why you should always carry an umbrella: a synopsis

I was only a child until I turned eight. I figured, knowing as little as I did about the ample workload I would soon encounter in Year 12, that rubbing out your sister's answers to her homework from last Monday and replacing it with your own correct ones (just to fulfil your own twisted leisure) was absolutely and unconditionally, completely normal.

Really, I'd loved school since the day I got there. I came home from the first day, unpacked my school bag, and insisted to mum that we pack it again, ready for tomorrow. "It was fun," I would recount to my family over a roast chicken at the dinner table that night, "Can't wait to go back" (I imagine I would have said).

I reach high school eight years later, showing up early to home group with my stainless steel travel mug full of English Breakfast tea, taking detailed notes with a blue pen (a recent upgrade from the pencil) and carrying my books up to my chest. I loved doing it right - the ease of it, the tidiness of my diary, and the painfully organised stack of books in my locker - each day arranged in order of use. Rain or shine, with the exception of only occasional illnesses, I would go every day.

I had never loved going to school more. The stuffing of a packet of Twisties, bruised banana and leftover spaghetti bog for recess and lunch respectively into a school bag that you thought was big enough to hold all your oversized folders but disappointed you, yet again, in that department. The waiting in line for the one remaining corn jack that you thought you left class early enough for but fear, for both your emotional state and the corn jack's, that someone else will most definitely get the one remaining corn jack. Even the opening up of your locker to find some inconsiderate jerk (probably the same kid who robbed you of the one remaining corn jack) had disposed of their empty packet of Twisties, into your locker.

But, like most things, that feeling inevitably faded. Three weeks into the first semester of Year 12, at the school I thought I loved attending each day, rain or shine, I would start showing up to class with my half-eaten corn jack from recess (that I may have been lucky to get) and an empty water bottle, having left my textbook at home on the kitchen bench and complaining to my teacher that "today wasn't going to be a very productive day". The reward at the end of the year wasn't enough to keep my mind on task, and ultimately, life caught up. 15 minutes into a Biology lesson and I'd wander 10 years into the future, post-university, when I'd be able to do my own rich shopping, buying all the high-end brands, and consume an even richer café latte from only the nicest coffee shop in the city after having a stressful, yet highly productive day making people feel more mentally stable at work.

Much to mine and the lists I had written earlier in the year containing 'all the reasons I loved school' surprise, I was losing my love for it. As soon as I declared it to all the voices in my head, it was happening. A cascade of 3-week-old tears released down my face. I felt them, hot, heavy and intact, running from my eyes and hitting the floor, and I was too blind to be self-conscious. To care that every lecture about which University was the best one for me, along with a practical report upon a maths folio about shares upon 2 lost USBS, was now decorating my floor in the form of tears, was too much of a relief.

I pet my own head, a cooling endearment I adjusted to after witnessing all my friends with their boyfriends, and reared up. Everything was just where I had left it except my laptop screen displaying my shares folio that I had yet to finish.

There were many things I learnt that night; that night 3 weeks deep into Year 12.

1) The decisions of Sam’s employed stockbroker were effectual in Sam resulting in good profitability of the overall investments. (Sam was a person who bought shares in two companies with a recent $10,000 investment in my maths folio).

2) Petting your head definitely works as a cooling endearment if you're a Year 12 student on the aftermath of your first mental breakdown for the year.

3) Calm down.

I didn't learn to calm down. Whether this was by choice or not was a question I seemed unable to answer, for myself or for my parents, who were obviously concerned. I still cried and managed to drown the pages of my biology textbook the night before a test on organisms. I still whined to my mum after I'd only be given till Friday, with the hypothetical exception that it was Monday, to complete my 1000-word English response to a book I had hated reading during my 6 week Christmas holidays and the corresponding movie that was 2 hours too long to waste my time watching. And I still got angry at myself on Thursday nights, with the hypothetical exception that it was the Thursday night before the Friday in which my English response, to a book I had hated reading during my 6 week Christmas holidays and the corresponding movie that was 2 hours too long to waste my time watching, was due, and I had yet to make a dent in the 1000 words.

Rain or shine, with only occasional exceptions for illnesses, I would have to continue going every day until the year was up. Up until the second semester, I had convinced myself that the work I was creating and handing in to be graded was just what the teachers had wanted and expected of me. It wasn't work I was happy to produce. It was work they were happy I produced.

As the semester continued on, the pressure only intensified. Going to school felt like one big competition of who had the best grades, who was going to acquire the highest ATAR, and who was taking the more challenging subjects. It made me feel pathetic. I was constantly comparing myself to my peers, always feeling like I was falling short.

It wasn't until, approximately the commencement of the second semester, that I encountered an extremely detrimental space inside the hazy bubble I had trapped myself in. I wouldn't know how to explain it as such, as it was almost as though a whole lot of me, that I thought only made up a little part of me, jumped out and ran far away. That's really the best I can do. I, without warning, began to realise just how important right now really was. "I will only have to do this assignment once", "You're one step closer to doing no homework and watching Offspring all night, every night". The work I was creating and handing in to be graded mattered more to me then ever. It was work I knew I had spent tedious nights convincing myself was good enough. It was work that suddenly, determined which coffee shops I would attend in 10 years time, post-university.

By the time exams were around the corner, I felt confident in the content I had worked hard revising. Leading up to final assessments, my grades were demonstrating my re-dedication to each of my classes and I suddenly didn't feel so scared that a bad exam score could ruin my life. And I suppose, in the end, it turned out fine. Oh so much better then fine. I did well on my SATs, achieving an ATAR I only thought was possible if you dedicated 24 hours out of each day to your school work, I got accepted into a college, and celebrated, on the 19th of December, with the lady on call at university after she told me "you have the world in your hands".

When I think about all of the mental breakdowns I experienced, all of the excuses I used to doubt myself, and all of the classmates that laughed at me when I gave the wrong answer, I question if it was all worth it. Did I really have to put myself under that much pressure to end up here? And the truth is, you don't. If anything, I worked so much harder not trapping myself in my room after school until 11pm. I cared about looking after myself first before my grades, which in turn, benefited my grades so much more.

Looking back, if there is one thing I've learnt to take away from this school year, it's that you should always carry an umbrella, metaphorically and literally.

Metaphorically; because despite how much I believed I loved school and would always achieve grades that demonstrated my passion for it, I didn't ever expect to feel like I had been flipped upside down and my parade been rained on. Pull out the umbrella and take care of yourself. Avoid nasty comparisons. Don't commit to a subject that doesn't interest you. Use folders. Don't always expect to receive great grades, we're not all perfect. Use your privates better than I did. Know how, when and where you work best, don't resort to studying in a way your friend told you "really works", because we all learn differently. Revise as you learn and overall, have such a super time; these people you see every day won't be there next year.

And literally; because well, you never really know when the weather is going to turn to crap.

,ally (wishing you clear skin and happiness!!!)