Thoughts on leaving school (forever)

Today was my last day of school ever. And to celebrate, above is a photograph of a wee version of myself when it all started! Yes, this was my first ever day, and I had no idea what I was bloody in for, did I? Ooh side note: look at that top knot and Disney lunchbox!! Funky Maya- not much has changed really. 

I hate school. I have been desperate to leave since I ever started. The routines, early mornings, authority, assembly, (its been 14 years and I still fail to see the importance of assembly) shit lunches, hot class rooms... it's never really appealed to me. I have always struggled to make first period and I have always been ready to go home way before last. I have felt trapped in school, instiutionalised. It took up all my time when really I wanted to be travelling and reading/writing, not learning pointless facts for important exams. And I thought that when the day I finally finished sixth form came I'd feel liberated but actually- it's a little bit daunting. 

Sure, I feel great that I never have to go back, but at the same time there is a sense of knowing at school. I've been there for 14 years and I know what to expect every day. And it's safe, there is a comfort in knowing that you don't have to plan anything because school has it planned for you. But now, that security and knowing is gone. I mean I have a few exams left, but after that, my time is my own. There wont be anybody telling me what to do or that I'm not doing enough, there wont be any time I have to get up or deadlines I have to meet. I have known this life for so long, I'm not sure what to expect. I am bloody excited, thrilled that my life is just beginning. But, there is something a little scary about not knowing where I'll be in 3 months time. 

Peppermint Tea, Poetry and Politics.

Did you like my use of alliteration in the title there? Poetic, I know.
Basically, I had a really beautiful day yesterday and I thought why not give you a taste of a day in the life Maya and write a blog post about it.

So, I arranged to catch up with my dear friend Ben for tea at 12:30pm in the centre of our town. We popped to the library to request some books which I needed for my History project (investigations, Cold War- if you do A level History, I share your pain) and we had a delightful chat with the librarian before heading for pepper mint tea in the coffee shop where Ben works. It is my new favourite place, there are walls covered in books and art spread across walls, it's truly beautiful in this place. So we shared poetry. And this isn't something I normally do. We took out our notebooks and swapped, and we read. And there were words shared and there is such a lot which can be read about a person from the way their notebook is arranged. I mean that, if anyone ever blesses you with looking at their hand written poetry, or even a look into their moleskin sketchbook if they draw, take it. And read between the lines of how their words are written on the page. I never show people my written word, I feel like the opening of the Picture of Dorian Gray sums up my feelings between sharing perfectly. The words say too much about me and I am terrified of the criticism, of being judged. But I faced a fear, and I shared and he liked it. And that is an achievement in itself.

Post tea time we went charity shopping across town and Ben picked up vinyl and a vinyl case and it was all very quaint. We talked politics and the comprehensive/private system and we wandered around town. We talked insecurities, we talked religion, we talked faith, we talked drugs and alcohol and insecurities and films and books and relationships. We talked plans, we talked hitch hiking in France this June. We sat down the embankment and wrote spoken word poetry, a line each at a time. And we Oooerr'd at each other's ideas and directions. I wrote words down, I took inspiration. We petted passing dogs, we exchanged words with passing film creaters. It was spontaneous. We giggled for ten minutes straight because joy is free and infectious and we can. And we watched the sunset and talked about Waterloo Sunset by the Kinks, which we both agree is a bloody good song.We drunk beer in the pub (I actually drunk coca cola because I am alcohol free) and we pondered some more. It was enlightening. To spend a day with somebody so full of adventure showed me that the life I have been pining for exists. Having beautiful days is possible if I decide to do it.

And the day was finished beautifully with us watching a play Ben has written being performed at our local theatre. It was inspiring, it was hopeful, it gave me hope. Seeing Ben stand on the stage and welcome questions from the audience gave me hope that my work may be read and appreciated too one day. He is so happy in himself, he's comfortable with who he is. And he closed the play on the question: 'is there more to life than this?'

I think there is. Because the girl who didn't leave the house because she had three panic attacks a day seized the day and went to bed happy at the end of it. The girl who is fearful of what people will think of her held her head high for five minutes. Which sounds like a minute achievement, but it's progress after looking at the ground for three years straight. And even if the more to life is simply finding friends who share your interests. And want to thrift shop for vinyl and encourage you to embrace who you really are. Rather than being lonesome in your room pondering about the gutter.
There are some beautiful people in this world.

I hope you all have at least one beautiful day this week. And embrace yourselves for who you are, drink peppermint tea and talk about your talents. There is more to life than the school yard society.

Whatever happened to good old fashioned manners?

I was walking across the quad (the big concrete space between the four school buildings made to sound a bit more glamorous than it really is) at just 9am this morning, when I was greeted by a group of teenage boys shouting abuse at each other along the lines of ‘I’ve fucked your mum anyway.’ Needless to say I was slightly offended when in reality these boys probably hadn’t lost their virginity they were so young. This was followed by being barged into by a different clique of boys in the corridor when I was just trying to eat my pan au chocolat and by the time I’d reached the class room a young girl had called me ‘fucking stressy’ when I asked her to politely move from the doorway and her boyfriend went on to shout ‘you're fucking pussy.’ Delightful.

This calamity happened this morning alone. I have experienced groups of people walk through a door rather than hold it open for a man carrying twelve laptops. Daily I hold doors open for students and the walk straight through, gracing me with only a dirty look as if I owed them the pleasure. A boy I’ve never seen in my life looked over my shoulder and said ‘who are you texting then?’ as I was trying to contact my mother. I over hear girls threatening to beat each other up and calling passer by's sluts. Old ladies have asked me ‘who do you think you’re smiling at?!’ when I smile at them in shops.  And what happened to good old fashioned manners?

And maybe I am just old fashioned. But I cannot see the attraction to foul language, lack of appreciation and being incredibly rude. It seems the younger students in my school find this whole demeanour to be attractive and something to aspire to be. When quite frankly where I’m from, manners, appreciation and good etiquette (I’m not talking knowing the difference between types of cutlery, just not barging into girls in corridors without a care in the world really) are three of the most important qualities going. But is this the future? Are manners simply old fashioned, is it generally accepted as okay among our generation to violently swear and never say please and thank you?

In Maya’s idea world, everybody would be kind to each other and give each other flowers on streets and give way in corridors saying: ‘after you, sir’. But we don’t live in a dream world, and from my experience people no longer share my ideal. Even elder ladies in shops feel the need to ask me not to smile at them, and grown men and women fail to thank me when I step aside and let them pass. It’s disappointing, I’m disappointed. But I have no idea what to do about it. 

As you can probably tell I let the events of today ruin my day a little bit. I have lost my tolerance for the humanity around me. Once a wise man told me a story though, about a shop keeper throwing the change at the customer with a snide look. The customer, rather than swear or throw the change back at him responded with 'thank you kindly, have a beautiful day.' This somewhat surprised the shop keeper, who asked him why he wasn't angry? And the customer simply replied with 'there are bigger things to worry about, I'm not going to let you ruin my day.' It's a lesson, right? Sure the World is full of negative people, but we shouldn't let them make us negative too. Maybe we can all kill bad attitude with kindness one day. For now, I'm focusing on ignoring negativity, and keeping my own manners intact.