At the end of last year, my classmates and I took certain country-wide tests that are a pretty big deal. I only took two, and therefore this year I have eleven. It’s going to be great fun. But the point is, we get our test results back only at the beginning of the following year.
Milling around the lobby of our school, the entire 11th and 12th grade (it’s not that many, don’t get excited, it comes out to 25 students or so) were chatting excitedly with each other. A senior was standing with all of the grade sheets (discreetly stapled so as only your name is visible), and handing them out. I walked up, took a deep breath as he searched for mine, and prepared myself.
Standing against the wall, my teacher happened to pass by (he taught one of the two subjects I was tested on), and I asked him if he wanted to be present for the historic moment. Yes, that’s how I worded it. He waited while I pried open the sheet of paper, shrieked, and passed it to him. 100! On both! On everything! He passed it to the principal who was passing by, who shrieked too (sort of) and congratulated me. All of that hard work last year, it served its purpose.
I joined the milling teenagers and pretty much everyone was satisfied with their grades (our school’s average on these tests is in the nineties). I was chatting with two girls about how despite being happy with the grade, it feels like there’s something missing…. Then I graced them with this beautiful dream scenario (the presenter is Ryan Seacrest, the result of watching the American Idol finale the other day):
I’m standing in a really fancy dress on a big stage, while a good-looking man in a suit (with pretty hair) walks up holding a gold envelope. The presenter (there will be a presenter) narrates to the audience, “The good-looking man is walking down stage to Ella, and is holding the gold results envelope in his right hand while his hair shines and swishes. He is presenting Ella with it. This is it, ladies and gentlemen, here- we- go. Ella is prying open the envelope, the results are in, she shoots, she…. She’s smiling, she scores!”
And the hall erupts into erroneous applause, everyone is on their feet, cheering and stamping! Confetti is falling from the heavens as my test scores flash on the screens behind me. A red carpet is being unrolled before me, and the good-looking man holds my hand as I navigate my way into the people. I’m laughing and crying, camera flashes are going off like I’m actually photogenic, and everyone is overjoyed on my behalf. The day is forever declared the “Ella did it” day, to be celebrated by no one, ever.
We were all talking about how this slip of paper doesn’t feel substantial enough, and we really just deserve the Nobel Prize. As my friend corrected though, we’ll settle for a simple Oscar or Emmy.
Instead, we just went on with our day. But that could have been nice. As it is, I’m very happy with my test scores and I’m glad all of my friends did well as well. This is exactly what I need to fill me with some sort of non-depressed feelings about starting school again. Now I’m a little bit buoyed. Mini yay!
P.s. This post is dedicated to my friends, with whom I spent whole days cramming for these tests. Our study dates have a special place in my heart, forever.
These are the days that bind you together, forever, and these little things will define you, forever. –Bad Blood, Bastille (alright, so the name of the song sounds negative, but this quote isn’t, so just go with it.)