Back to the Beginning

Today’s daily prompt is, August Blues:

As a kid, were you happy or anxious about going back to school? Now that you’re older, how has your attitude toward the end of the summer evolved?

As a writer, I want to write about everything—from the way I feel about rainy days to the way I hate liars with a passion. But, if there’s anything that I’d not rather write about, it’d be about my experiences in school as a child. I’ve already mentioned in some of my previous posts that I didn’t really have a happy time in school. I hated going to school. I hated waking up at 5.30 in the morning. I hated my uniform, most of my class mates, the bullies, the wannabes, most of the teachers who had no idea what teaching was. Every morning, as soon as my dad dropped me at the school gate, I wanted to run back to him and go home. The nuns of my kindergarten had to let my dad stay near the classroom on my first day because I wouldn’t stop crying. My dad still describe—in a funny way—about how I didn’t stop whaling for hours that day as if I was kidnapped.


In middle school, I was a silent kid, decent in school work, had a great track record with my grades and the teachers loved me. I never made any trouble nor did I cause any. I had really close friends in school and it’s surprising that I don’t even speak to any of my school friends anymore—to say the least, I absolutely have no idea where they are. I went to a mixed school and while it has its pros and cons, being able to interact with both genders made my school experience a little more interesting. I only had few close male friends and most of the other guys were jerks or bullies. On most days, I would pretend I’m sick and often bunk school because I liked staying at home. I wasn’t bad in school academically—except, in math and science—but I liked the idea of staying home and studying more. Oh yeah, for any of you who doesn’t know, homeschooling doesn’t really exist in Sri Lanka.

On school breaks, my dad would often let me stay with my relatives for a few weeks, so I used to love the holidays. Normally, we had the usual three main breaks a year—December to January, April to May, Late July to August/early September. We had three semesters and at the end of each semester, I’d spend a week at my Aunt’s and go to my uncles’ the other week or switch between my other relatives during the semester breaks. The holidays were always a blast and therefore, it’s one of the favorite memories of my childhood. Going back to school was a disturbing nightmare. Yuck!! I was never happy to go back to school after a long vacation. I wasn’t excited as much as I should have been about going back to school. Every year, I always thought about the final year that I’d get to leave the school forever. School didn’t excite me—ever.

After almost 7 years, shockingly, I am now a teacher who works in the same environment that I once sat and dreaded living in. I deal with kids everyday now and I know what it is like is to go to school every day and sit in that same chair and be forced to hang around some obnoxious kids. But, my attitude of how to deal with it has changed. I wish I had loved going to school as a kid because then I would have probably made a bunch of more good memories instead of the bad ones.
Now, I love Summer—the beginning, the middle and the ending of it—and every bit of it. I am excited for what it’d bring me, I’m excited how it’d end—as long as it doesn’t involve going back to school as a kid!


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