My Reputation

My own personal reputation is practically none existent. I used to have the vain hope that most people in my college know who I am, but just this half term it was robbed of me when the boy sat at the computer I had logged on remarked:

‘Katie Hall… Who’s that?’

Okay so I am quiet and shy, but also ginger, and was stood right behind him mumbling something about it being the computer I was using. I used to think because my hair was so bright everyone would have noticed me some time during college, maybe they know the name and not the face?

I also have a reputation of being the ‘A* girl’, as one boy kindly put it. I have pointed out several times that obtaining 4As at AS level does not by any stretch of the imagination grant me a single A*. In fact, although I was predicted 3A* on my UCAS form, my Maths teacher point blankly refused to predict me one and I decided to change it. She pretty much told me she didn’t believe I could get one, but would gladly be proved wrong on results day.

I thought at first she’d want me to ask about anything I didn’t understand so I could put it right, logical, right? Nope, she says because I ask for help with the harder, more challenging questions so in the future I can tackle them, I can’t fully understand the work. She’s a clever teacher though, so maybe she knew this would just make me strive to prove her wrong. Currently I’m pushing the boat out with my maths work, but I’ll never be amaaaaaazing. I have too many friends who clearly exceed all my mathematical capabilities.

With regards to Spanish they’ve only ever had one boy ever get an A* in Spanish… and he went to Oxford… to do law. Not that I’m bitter or anything, but I want the A* in Spanish, if I had to pick anything, just because learning Spanish completely rewrote my life plan, so if I could pick a subject to have one in, I find Spanish would be the most appropriate.

Physics is my most unpredictable exam. Sometimes I really think I understand something in the subject and I’ve completely missed the point and ending up listing the DO NOT ALLOW section of a mark scheme. In all honesty it will depend what happens on the day, but I’m going to revision like a boss to give me the best possible chance of getting that.

Therefore I am not an A* girl. Until recently I didn’t think I’d be able to get into university because I’d not get at least one A* at A-level. I know he meant well and he is lovely but I just didn’t have the heart to explain all this to him if he ever reads this he’s been a great friend and I was only avoiding him because I couldn’t bear to explain all this to him.

Today’s Assignment: Make a writing prompt your own

Reputations; I currently attend a sixth form college and it seems to be a top hang out for superficial impressions.

Looking round our Sixth Form common room it was evident form the first time I stepped foot in there that divides and breaks were forming. My parents would laugh if I told them it was just like an American high school, but it’s really not that far off. As Janis from Mean Girls once put it:

“Now, where you sit in the cafeteria common room is crucial because you got everybody there.”

Maybe the stereo types in mean girls do take everything to the extreme, but I can relate to a few:

Let’s start with the greatest people you’ll ever meet. My group, my friends, made up primarily of my form class. As we’re now in Y13 we have inherited the comfy black seats that last year’s Y13 ‘main’ boy group used to have. There are about 20 of us…? We party on select weekends and don’t really pay that much attention to the other groups. We’re a diverse bunch of people and between cover just about every subject going, excluding maybe health and social and child care.

But in the next arrangement of black comfy seats such subjects are rife; health and social with child care form a definite majority. I don’t know the Y12 girls who sit there, but I’m pretty sure I don’t like them. I’m not some raving prejudicial stereotyping being, but before any one of them begins eating their lunch, the lipstick is out and applied in copious amounts. My particular grudge with his group began the day I asked one of them if I could borrow the chair her bag was placed she flatly refused to let me have it! If I could go back now I’d probably remark something like:
“Why is you bag using it? Trust me honey, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that one!”
But no… I probably just nodded, smiled politely and walked away.

I’m glad to say that since I left secondary school the Umpa lumpa race of girls- those who wear so much orange make up they’d give the Roald Dahl characters a run for their money- has somewhat become completely extinct. Maybe it’s due to the need of a good 5 GCSEs to get into college. And if they didn’t understand the conception of foundation (where the instruction are printed on the pack of the package) they didn’t really stand a chance did they? Nowadays they only seem to be gracing the younger years, with the exception of a few sixth form girls imitating them from time to time, claiming to have ‘done their make up in the dark’ that day.

Currently there is a rather large and growing intimidation circle which dwells in the corner on the walkway to the vending machine, but personally I haven’t had a single misdemeanour with any such member of that group. My only worry is that they do all look when somebody walks a little bit too close, and maybe that’s why their circle is described as one of intimidation…

We also have a pool table and X-box in our common room but sadly our final avid gamer graduated last year. Luckily this year the amateur inhabitants of this area are currently in the process of making a comeback since the thief who stole Fifa 14 has kindly returned it (nice catholic ethos right there). The pool table population is composed mainly of Y12 boys who all avidly watch whoever’s playing, adding the sound effects between conversations. Said pool table only takes 20p coins and there’s one individual, known to have over £20 worth in such change, loved deeply by each of his pool playing friends. However not even he can overcome the sad day when the pool balls are removed after bad sixth form behaviour…

“Look out, incoming Band Geeks!” (or as I prefer, the Music Kids). Such lucky individuals have gained unprecedented access to music facilities during school hours. Last time they entered the Common room expressions reading ‘Where are all the guitars?’ crossed their worried faces. For them, it had definitely been a while. I’m surprised I didn’t slip into their inviting trap, as a choir goer, and guitarist, I’m sure the jacket must fit. Maybe I was lucky to read the rejection get out clause at the bottom.

All members of the music kids will be forced to work unreasonable out of school hours singing and playing for the enjoyment of others whilst raising of charitable funds…

They infuriate me, but I promise to write a full review on this music society at a later date.
I also believe there to be a group of individuals whom I have never seen before in my life, but sure as the Pope’s a catholic, they attend my small sixth form, and some of them are even in my year. They inhabit the lunchtime-abandoned arts classrooms working to finish their projects even though they’re 539085 pages ahead of everyone else in the class.
You may be surprised to learn that taking, art, or textiles or photography doesn’t grant you access to this group (there are in fact amazing artists who are frequenters of the common room) I believe its roots lie between each individual having the shared fear of entering the common room. In this each member decided that it would probably be best that they brought their own lunch and found an empty far away (art’s on the 3rd floor) classroom, where they wouldn’t be bothered. And so when all the classrooms were taken, the art club was born, a club where each separate person realized they actually quite enjoyed the company of one another. If you’re out there, art club goers, maybe give me a sign sometime?

And how could I possibly forget the jocks? Well they’re an endangered species in Y13 with the endless parties and nights on the town taking their toll. Few make it past Y12, due to the reluctance from teachers to sped anther year battling for them to get some work done. In the end I think it’s the PE teachers that have a quite word, show the teachers to the trophy cabinet, and express the unending pain associated with finding such cabinet empty were these young jocks to be exiled.

And finally tucked away near the back, there’s a group of about 15 who sit round two wooden square tables and discuss Manga magazines and TV programs with frequency. Sometimes they place empty packed lunch boxes on their heads with cries of “you’re a wizard Harry” and I have to be careful my Harry Potter pencil case is shoved firmly into the bottom of my bag, safely out of sight. If I were ever to be alienated tomorrow form my group, this group would welcome me in with open arms and it’s true, I do enjoy the company of some of its members. In all honesty I’m probably like each and every one of them at heart; I just didn’t express my shared interest before the imaginary passes to each group were given out.