School Days, Not The Best Days

The old saying goes ‘school days are the best days of your life’. I think this is about as true as carrots helping with night vision or crusts making hair curl. I hated school.

               I think I had already figured out that most of the things we were learning would have no practical application in real life. Knowing the symbols for chemical elements, the cause of an oxbow lake or the relationship between Hermia and Helena would all be a pointless took the interest away from whatever the government decided that we were being taught.

               My last day at high school was an odd one. We had a big assembly and all the people I expected to stand up and read their own poetry did exactly that, lots of people (including the drama teacher) cried and I just couldn’t get it. What were they all upset about? Are they really going miss hours of essay writing, trigonometry or hockey in the rain?

My walk home that day was possibly the happiest I had ever been. I knew I had exams coming up but didn’t care, the worst was over.

Exam results day also seemed unnecessary. I left it most of the day before working up the effort to go back to school to collect the envelope, it just didn’t seem important. It was only when I started getting phone calls from concerned family members that I finally went but by then I had heard the usual news reports about exams were getting easier and so our achievements were worthless and I think I agreed.

I did fine in my exams and since then nobody has ever asked what grade I got in my religious studies GCSE, which is good as I don’t remember anyway.

4 thoughts on “School Days, Not The Best Days

  1. Thinking about your last day at school, mine couldn’t have been more different. It started just like any other day, then at lunch time a group of us (including the head girl) sneaked out for our own celebrations. We drank the contents of my friends dad’s drinks cupboard, returned to school and disrupted the final assembly. Then we wandered round the school, tried to ‘molest’ the woodwork teacher. He didn’t complain but the assistant head mistress didn’t approve and asked us to leave. On the way out I insulted the headmaster, a lovely man who didn’t deserve it and luckily never held it against me. Oh for those days in 1974!

    Don’t tell my children this, they think I am a model of society!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I know exactly what you mean Martin! Beautifully captured as always. I adored my first grammar school and hated my enforced second one – so played truant most of the time at that one. I remember thinking exactly what you voiced…what is the point of it all?? Take care oop North and hope to see you back soon. S

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I enjoyed the time I spent with the Open University much more than any of my school days. I spent most of my junior and secondry years avoiding bullies. I left at 15 with never a backward glance until much later in life.

    Liked by 1 person

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