Typical Teenager

On the surface Lenna is a completely normal teenager of the 21st centurary; she is in love, she is doing exams and rebeling agaisnt the school. But after a series of confusing events leaves Lenna unsure of herself is she just protecting reality from herself? When she gets to the bottom of what's going on, it becomes a life or death situation. A situation in which she seems to have no influence...


3. "Don't fear change, embrace it." - Anthony J D'Angelo

"Don't fear change, embrace it." - Anthony J D'Angelo

Our school is a bit small I guess, so small that the main entrance can’t cope with both boys and girls entering at the same time. This means we have two entrances to the school. The boys get to go in through the main entrance and get the least amount of stairs. Whereas us girls have to walk half way round the school to even get to the entrance and then get stuck with 2 extra sets of stairs.

               In year 7 and 8 we had a day once every 2 weeks where we had an hour long form period instead of 15 minutes. It was an amazing day! We spent the hour counting up ‘credits’ (Credits: stamps of stickers given to students as a reward for work or good behaviour) and ‘red marks’ (Red marks: the exact opposite of a credit. A written comment regarding bad behaviour, incorrect uniform etc.). We then went to the hall if we got over a certain number of credits to get a sticker for our planner. They were shiny. They were awesome. Nowadays we have a 30 minute form period to do the same thing. We have nowhere near enough time. All thanks to the new head teachers and SLT (SLT: Senior Leadership Team. A group of people that walk around with iPads pissing us all off). And there are no shiny stickers either.

                I don’t think the SLT realise how they are dragging the school down. They keep making new rules but give us no time to adjust. Just rule, rule, rule, rule. If I were the head, I’d introduce a new rule each term and give my staff and pupils time to adjust to the new before introducing the next new one. But no. My teachers don’t think like that. They have forgotten what it’s like to be a teenager. Then again so has most of society. They just don’t get it.

                It is getting to the point where I am just at school. Not there to learn or anything. I don’t seem to be paying any attention or anything. It’s like my skin is just an empty shell. My brain doesn’t seem to function properly. I feel like I’m drowning and I hate it. I feel like I am barely able to keep my head above the water. I’m not only drowning in the ton of homework I get given but other people’s problems and feelings. If someone has a problem I feel bad for them and I don’t stop feeling like I’m carrying their weight on my shoulders until the problem is resolved. I can’t help it, I just hate it.

                But as I said I guess I like the school itself it has a nice aura about it. It’s very English. Stone. That’s quite an English material isn’t it? Well I think slate is a bit more English but anyway I like the school but I don’t think I could survive from day to day without my friends. Thalia, Eve, Avalon and Me. What a bunch we are. Just by are names you can tell we are unusual. Not exactly your average names are they? Then again we pride ourselves in our ‘weirdness’. As I have always said if you’re not admittedly a little weird, you are denying your true self.

                I don’t think I’d be able to survive without those down to earth teachers either. Sometimes you see that glimmer of realness in a teachers eye that reminds you that they are humans too. They go through the same democratic crap that we do. I once had a teacher break down crying whilst trying to explain to me why my new GCSE target had now been changed to a somewhat unreachable one. It was awful not to mention awkward. It reminds you that they are not people who can mark 60 books in one night, but a person who will sit down to mark 60 but will only get through 20, because they started to procrastinate, then told themselves just watching one TV program then getting back to marking is a good thing.  I can tell you that it wasn’t really a smart idea because they just have to do it later but hey ho, it makes them human.

                The other day I was sat in Maths thinking about our leaver’s assembly and who would get picked to speak, and what I would say if it was me who was chosen. After all it is our last year in mainstream school so the possibility is always there. I think I would say something like:

‘Hey guys, we did it! We get to leave his hell hole! Adios! Auf Wiedersehen! Au revoir ! It’s time to leave and get on with our lives! I’d like to say that I enjoyed my 5 years here; but if I did, that would mean I would be lying. These last two years have been hell and I absolutely hated them. Side note: teachers if you want some constructive criticism stop counting down the weeks ‘till we leave, it just stresses us out. I’m glad it’s over but I’ll be sad to see you lot every day. I’m ashamed to say that I have only learnt who some of you are this year. I know it’s bad, but I can’t exactly help it…

                I’d like to say thank-you to the teachers that brightened up the long dragging days at this school. Those that fell of their chairs, the  that shouted ‘Welcome to the land of the D’ in classes full of teenagers, those who make you smile when you honestly feel like giving up and those who give you that extra helping hand in achieving your extremely high target. So thanks I guess. See ya!’

I guess you can draw your own conclusions about my school education by that speech.

                I think I would miss the school if I left. I guess that’s why I’m planning on staying on at the Sixth Form at my school. Just so I retain that element of sameness. I feel a bit like Peter Pan sometimes; ‘I don’t wanna grow up!’ but there is always that sensible part of my brain that talks an awful lot like Wendy. Telling me that I need to grow up. Life will never slow down let alone wait for me – so I might as well ride it as best I can. The Wendy of my head is also the one that tells me to stop passing on food, the Peter Pan half, well that's the half that just wants to stand up in the middle of an assembly and yell 'Fudge this I'm OUT!'. I wish I could do that. I guess I just don't have enough nerve.

                As I drift from class to class I start to notice the little things that I haven’t realised were still dotting the school corridors. For example the little crack in the window on the 4th floor was still not fixed, still blowing slithers of air through to un-noticing students as they rush by. Or the mucky fingerprints creating little smiley faces on windows above the speckled floor. Isn’t it amazing how much people miss? I never really notice my surroundings when I'm with people because I’m too busy focusing on what people were saying with their hands and body language than the walls that stand silently behind them. I'm trying to tell what they are implying and what has actually happened, not what they are necessarily telling me. And if I’m not looking at people or listening I’ll most likely have drifted off. To the world of 5cm ballerina ballerinas pirouetting along the table tops or the place where rain drops have Grand Prix’s. Well either that or this room.

                This room. How do I describe it? It’s scary and it’s white. I don’t know why it pops into my head. The same room every time. I know it’s the same room because there is always a pot of pink roses on a table beside me. From the angle that I see the roses I assume I’m laid down on my back. Straight ahead of me is a white ceiling with a picture of a hand drawn Winnie the Pooh in the centre. It’s beautifully done. It is not coloured in so you can see all the pencil strokes that have been left on the paper by the artist. It’s so simple but so elegant.

                BRRRRRRIIIING! Ugh the bell. I forgot where I was again. I’m in school and now I’m late for form. Again. Miss Shah won’t be best pleased. Never-mind what can I do now? I’m late just going to have to make sure I’m not excessively late. Run. I’m joking I wouldn’t dare run. You see little Year 7’s doing that, then they get all hot and flustered as they sweep into their form rooms. I’m Year 11 so trust me I’ve done my fair share of those when I was younger. You also see them get told off by teachers a lot for running too. It makes me smile because in a few years’ time they’ll be in my position. Snowed under with work from exams but smiling at the new Year 7’s getting told off just as they had when they were that age. Full circle.

                I sweep into my form room. S21. An art room. This means that the walls are never bare nor is it plastered with boring facts on colourless posters. It is adorned with thought provoking pieces like black paper silhouettes being hung by their necks by a puppeteer who has a striking resemblance to the education minister or pieces that make you smile like a painting of a huge gnome hugging Santa Clause. The other good thing about an art room is that it is constantly being used so you can see how the student’s work develops and turns from a weird mesh ball into a wonderfully painted piece designed to be a huge baby mobile. It’s fascinating. As you can probably tell it doesn’t help with my drifting off. Especially the piece with the black silhouettes, I don’t know why but I feel like I can connect with them. They take me straight to that room.

                There at the back are my friends sat in a line looking relieved that I’d finally turned up. To be honest you’d think they’d be used to me being late, it’s not like the bus is ever early. Thalia points at her wrist so I shrug a reply. Then she starts laughing. I tell miss that I’m sorry I’m late again and I blame it on the bus. She’s used to me late arrival now. I don’t think she cares anymore. Avalon looks up at me and threatens to throw her pencil case at me if I don’t go and sit down next to her in the centre of the group. I walk past the CHAV’s and the not so popular ‘populars’ to my friends. Annie sits in the corner taking mild interest in what my friend Issy has to say. Issy flicks her long brown, slightly curled hair over her shoulder so it drapes down her back. She can see Annie better that way.  Annie and Issy get on well and I’m glad. I went to primary school with Annie and she slowly seems to be trying to disconnect herself with society. I don’t know whether that is purposeful or whether it’s just happening and she herself doesn’t know how to stop it. Somehow Issy seems to be able to drag her out of the dark every day. I often try and listen in and try and find out how she does it, but I can never find any correlation from one day to the next. She’s amazing. I wish I had her skill.

                Something cold jabbed into my ear brings me back from my deep thought process. It was Avalon. Just as I thought. She has this weird habit of when I’ve dropped out of conversation she’ll poke me in the ear with her pen to bring me back. It works but its bloomin' annoying. I forgive her though because we share the same music taste and hair type. This means we can have little hypes together when our favourite artist releases their new self-titled album whilst sharing tips on how to control our seemingly unmanageable hair. The bell rings again signalling the end of form. Eve asks where we all are, a standard question for the end of form. You can hear it being asked all over the class room. Thalia and I were in I.T. so I let Thalia reply. Eve found that Molly and Emily were heading in the same direction so they headed off together, laughing the whole way. Again, I don’t know how, but Molly seems to have the gift of making people smile or laugh instantaneously. She’s brilliant. You can never be sad around Molly, it’s near impossible.

                Me and Thalia walk down the stairs to the first floor and into the I.T suite. All the computers flickering on. It’s the start of the day so they’re just warming up. It’ll take some time but we’ll still have enough time to get something done. As the only girls in our class we have to adapt how we talk and what we talk about. We can’t exactly talk about guys because someone in the room will know who we’re on about and will tell them. Then again it’s always a laugh hanging around with 27 lads and your best friend. Never a dull moment. Our friends Ben and Jordan were just walking in when a huge BOOM echoed around the school. It felt like the room shook.  Thalia instantly hit the floor thinking it was a bomb or something. The rest of us surged towards the door to find out what had happened. We couldn’t believe it when we did.

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