I’ve always enjoyed school but lately, I’m not really feeling it. Since the beginning of primary school right up to today, I have loved every day. Now that I’m in sixth year, those days are fewer and further apart. There’s no more painting or double computers. I can’t switch off for a class because I didn’t sleep much the night before. I can’t ignore one subject because I know I’ll never use it. I can’t fast forward and be finished with school. For a system that prides itself on telling me everything I can do, there’s an awful lot of things I can’t do.
I was never bullied in school and I got along with (almost) everyone. That’s always been the case, and I know I’m very lucky because of that. I always went into school with a smile on my face, both primary and secondary. “Here we go again” I thought to myself every morning, revitalised from the day before, excited for the day to come. I was excited to see my friends, to crack jokes with my teachers, to learn something new, to look at a topic from a different perspective. School for me has always been a happy place. I didn’t have a bad home life or traumatic upbringing, quite the opposite. I have a loving family, and supportive parents who push me to do my best. It’s not that school was a chance to get away from home, I loved home too, but school was a chance to try something new. Every day was different, every class held something undiscovered.
But now, I’m not quite sure. That spark that has lasted nearly all my life has disappeared. It could be a number of things but whatever the reason, I simply don’t enjoy school anymore. I don’t hate it, it’s not a chore, but I’ll be happy once it’s over. The countdown has truly begun. Roll on Magaluf. I’ve always been a good student. I got all A’s and B’s in the Junior Cert at higher level, I’m on track to get very good points in my Leaving Cert.
That’s why this sudden change is so bizarre to me. I’m not overwhelmed at the workload, or worrying about college, but I still don’t get the same satisfaction from school that I used to. It’s weird. I think, partly, it’s reluctance. I’m reluctant to move on, to leave, to count down the days. I know my hours are numbered, so there doesn’t seem to be any point in enjoying myself. Frustration also plays a part, bigger than I ever expected. A lot of my friends outside of school are in college. They’re living away from home, eating ice cream in bed and watching Netflix unapologetically. They’re flat out snapchatting me about how much they’re enjoying themselves. I know that’s superficial, unrealistic and almost always posed, but a lot of it gets to me.
Here I am, an 18 year old with a leap card and a debit card, almost fully independent (I failed my driver theory test), but yet I still live at home following a timetable that dictates when I eat, when I sleep, when I study, and putting pressure on me when I relax instead of work. It’s frustrating. I’m not really sure what writing a piece would do to help the situation. Honestly, I wrote this instead of an english comparative essay. I hope that through my self-centered rambling and over-dramatic accusations, someone else in my situation will relate.
To that person, and to whoever else takes the time to read all this, we’re nearly there. This is the final straight in our secondary education. No pressure, but this is what the last five/six years have been about. We have to just keep going no matter what, and finger’s crossed it will all work out. (I’ll light a candle for us).