One last holiday post from Brins

As alluded to in the previous post (albeit some time ago), the exam results arrived across Scotland this Tuesday, making themselves known several days in advance (which surprised me). But you knew all this already, didn't you? Yes, I'm sure. After all, over the past couple of years, exam results have been the equivalent of the Sven Eriksson scenario for the news and papers; they can't get enough of the cultural revolution that is the SQA certificate.

Last year, they were strictly warning us not to tear open our envelopes, lest we damage the sheet (or worse, receive a nasty paper cut). Now, they've taken some cautionary measures to evidently remind people that 'it's not the end of the world' should they fail. But what gets me is... how do they know that?!

Alas for me, Mr. Postman was rather complacent about shielding my future from a slight downpour on the 3 metre walk from his van to my house. But it's not his life.
My heart goes out to the poor soul who allegedly was forced to spill her results in front of TV camera crews, all for our entertainment early Tuesday morning. On the other hand, at least that exempts her from the dreaded Great Grade Finding Frenzy come next term (anyone in S5 and up knows what I'm talking about), where our fellow classmates run around like Jehovah's Witnesses to extrapolate some grades from us (and, in most cases, vice versa). Of course, being the Master of Indifference, I stay on the sidelines for this one. Don't want to divulge? Then here's a top tip: Don't let them know. Works for me. I just tell 'em 'I can't remember' or 'it's not important' or 'it was alright'. Of course, they persist, but never prevail.

There's always a sense of sadness about receiving your grades, good or bad. It's only then that you realise your previous year's over. 365 days of blood, sweat, toil and revision, and the SQA sums it up quite succinctly with the first 3 letters of the alphabet (or numbers 1-7). But they don't know the machinations. The good times. The extraordinarily-more-heavily-weighted bad times. And worse... no more Mr. McNeil. We'll all miss him, nya?

I have a mystery identity here on CICC, but I can guarantee I won't get out of my schooling without ONE and exactly ONE person at my school knowing it's me here, because that's life. But it doesn't matter now. I've got the grades, and those teachers can't touch me any more (and to all new S5s: the year's not as bad as they want you to think, trust me)! Just another year to go...

But have a nice time, and enjoy the remainder of your holiday if you have one - Brins
  ¶ 10:07 am