Magneton

I am glad to finally announce that I have collected my O'level cert this afternoon which was unfortunately, due for almost two years. It goes like this, my mum received this NS letter stating that you would have to bring all relevant certificates to prove your current education level to the medical checkup. I am clueless about wherever that came from, and I was highly skeptical of the relevance of one's education and the medical checkup, which was well, no link. But being lazy to rebuke (and ironically), I decided it was time to get that cert, which was well, two years due.

I never liked walking into the gates of Bpghs. The thought of it sickens me. There's absolutely nothing wrong with the school, just a minatory aura, and somehow it displeases me. I walked into the games as soon was I was dismissed. Walking into another school in another school uniform attracts stares of unfamiliarity. Well, PJC with respect to BP isn't really that much of an unfamiliarity. It's just me, I'd like to think. So I checked into the guard house. And unfortunately it seems like a surfeit of students are being dismissed and they are all marching in glee out of the school gates. I made my way to the general office, which took me a while to find (I'm not used to the new campus, and I've only been there, say thrice). On the way, the journey was horrible one. Unpleasant, and awkward.

I saw Mr Ng my lower secondary Math teacher who had the habit of pronouncing calculator as CARRR-culator. I could still remember that quite distinctly. I wonder if he could still recognize me. I wanted to move forward and greet him, but the thought was appalling. After all, I was a problematic student, both to the eyes of ordinary teachers and especially the discipline committee. I decided not to do anything, and continue in my designated path. I saw some juniors whom said hi to me, probably they did not know how I was known as being hated by all the teachers. It was refreshing, to a certain extent.

In the general office, I saw familiar faces, who were nonchalent towards my sudden abrupt existence. I apologetically asked for my O level certificate from the office lady. I was feeling guilty because of my indolent character which induces procrastination which as a result has caused the collection of my O'level cert to be postponed to two years later (which is today).The office had to keep it (and not like they threatened-burning it) She sighed and gave me something to sign. And on the other end of the office, I saw my ex-literature teacher. He came, and with his mordant wit he spoke to me. " Doing O'level as private candidate? or school?" or at least that was the impression I received, as if trying to put it as though I had failed O'levels.

As I signed I saw the names of my ex classmates. I sighed. the date of collection was somewhere in 07 at most. Early 0'7. I wonder how the heck did I even not collect such a document. Upon noticing my uniform, he (my ex-literature teacher) remarked a "well done" which was so unconvincing. And then started adding on how terrible my English was. I just kept my head low, and signed. Upon receiving my cert, I left swiftly. Hopefully in stealth.

While I was walking home, I played around with the cert. I pondered upon why going back to Bp was such an unpleasant experience. The teachers hate me, I hate them.Back then, I was scoffed at, despised, more often than not labeled in a nasty manner. It's a part of the past that cannot change. I don't regret, but I just don't like the entire feeling of Bp, as well, as anything that has to do with Bp. It was perhaps, an extremely good school, with with heavy politics in the teacher's office, teachers who confiscate for personal gain, hordes of elitist-wannabe students, and best of all, a tiger mascot to go along with all that package. Please do not take umbrage against what I've said. After all this is coming from someone who probably has most retarded secondary school life experience ever. I flicked the cert, I tossed it around, used it as a fan. Just an ordinary piece of paper marked with "Ordinary Level" and simple words and alphabets that tries to make sense. As I stare at my myriad of A2s and B3s, I cannot help it but feel I can do better. But people would shoot me for being ungrateful. After all, I'm just a slacker who studied for two weeks. I cannot expect more.

A mistake? I would say it's part of me growing up. Perhaps next time PJC to me would like how BP is to me now. I don't care even if it turns out that way. After all, I don't work well with systems.

I know my writing style seems very "off" today. That's perhaps, because of the plutonian adventure I had this afternoon. Wow.