Following three successful days spent at QEHS as part of their transition, year eight were asked to write about their experiences. This narrative has been written by Marcus in Year 8.
Over and over again…almost.
The roars and screeches of what seems to be a panicking herd of elephants is getting closer. And closer. I’m running from this monster like I’ve never ran before, dreading the moment when it reaches me. My goal is tantalisingly close. But the rolling thunder behind is almost laughing at my futile efforts.
But then I find a mysterious rush of energy flowing through my veins. I can do this. My thoughts align with the beats of my heart. One more metre… come on, come on! That roar is deafening. But I realise did it. I did it! I beat the school bus!
As we near the high school, I begin to think about how I am going to create a bond with my new class. It’ll be like year five again, I think. There’s nothing to worry about. I am trying; trying so hard not to panic. I haven’t had to make new friends in years. But today, like all first days, it is all about making first impressions. I know it will be fun, although I know it will be hard.
The bus stops.
I gaze wistfully out the window, seeing the ecstasy of laughing, smiling faces bustling about before the main building. It looked so fun! I couldn’t believe how calm, relaxed and cheerful everyone was. Maybe it won’t be as hard as I thought previously, I think. But I’m still nervous.
I have a lot of my friends from my village around me. They’re laughing, exchanging tips and informing us about the teachers. But as I enter the yard, my confidence shatters. They all look so happy, but I feel it could become very, very awkward. Nevertheless, I stick with my group and we discuss our classes. We’re all separated but it doesn’t matter. We’ll meet at break in the café, discuss teachers and compare timetables. It does sound appealing; being able to talk over coffee, walk around and have a good time. Sounds almost grown up, I think wryly.
Out of the main building, a friendly looking teacher appears to meet me and my new form. She must be my form teacher, I think. I begin to feel a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Instead of the usual, “Welcome to QE!” we get a deadly serious face, followed by, “If you’re in the hydro, avoid year elevens at all costs. Words can’t describe their smell!” We all laugh. I’m glad my teacher has a sense of humour. We are led inside and begin an epic journey through a labyrinth of corridors, courtyards and stairways. How am I going to remember this? I think, still unsure whether or not I’ll find my way back to the bus.
“I think that’s a year eleven ahead,” some near me sniggers
“Just give them a wide berth,” our teacher replies.
Normally I would have chipped in to this conversation; however I’m intrigued by the work on the walls. Modern art. Paintings. Pictures of events. I wonder if I will ever have the pride of knowing my work is up on display at QEHS.
We eventually arrive at our form room, and I’ve lost this idea of anxiety. I’m going to fit in here just fine, I think. I’ve realised that this might be the best experience I’ve had. It isn’t going to be like first school, or middle school, but a whole new experience. I just can’t wait to be working here as a pupil - and eventually, a sixth former – and experience all I’ve heard about this school. It’s going to be amazing.
Marcus, Year Eight