Jul 2, '07 2:22 PM
for loretta's contacts
THE DAY FROM HELL REVISITED,
or LETS PUT THINGS INTO PERSPECTIVE AND SEE THE BIGGER PICTURE.
There was one tiny detail that maybe I should have mentioned re ‘day from hell’, it has been pointed out this was possibly relevant. The night before the day in question was the night of the 6th Form Prom. This was a formal dress, invitation only occasion, tickets on sale within the school and available strictly to 6th year leavers and staff.
I didn’t know exactly what to expect, I had declined the tickets on previous years but this year just thought ‘oh why not’. Think I’ve already said I hadn’t been well for a while and just hadn’t been anywhere, including work for weeks, so off I went to 6th year Prom.
And I am just so glad that I did. It restored my faith in so many things. These young people, at the end of their school career, were in every sense totally awesome!! They were, without exception unbelievably well turned out, there were shimmering, swaying, sequined full length ball gowns in every colour imaginable which must have cost some proud parents hundreds (£ & $) There were young men, hardly recognisable as the schoolboys I knew, in full dress kilt. They had organised the whole event themselves, they booked the venue, designed, printed and sold the tickets, booked the piper who piped everyone in, organised the photographs under the arbour, booked the entertainment and were consulted on the menu and table decorations. These kids, well I shouldn’t call them that anymore, just suddenly……..for want of a better expression……..grew up.
The tables were set with what looked like miniature bottles of Champaign, but which were actually tiny party poppers full of gold and silver streamers and confetti, there were slightly bigger bottles which turned out to be bottles of bubbles and every table was festooned with bunches of gold and silver balloons. These 18 year olds acted every bit the sophisticated adult (for most of the time). The bar was open and there was wine with the meal but not one of these young people seemed the worse for drink (worth mentioning that alcohol sale and consumption is legal for 18 year olds in the UK).
It turned into a bit of celidhs, we danced the Gay Gordon’s and the Highland Reel, pupils took staff as partners, those of us who didn’t already know were all taught simple traditional Scottish dances. Everyone joined in and much merriment was had by all. There was wine with the meal and a bar but no one was drunk and/or disorderly.
It was quite magical seeing these young people who for weeks had been stressed about exams, revision and securing a place at wherever they wanted to go just blossoming into young adults. They were so obviously ready to move away from school and on the next stage of life. Think my lasting impression of that evening will be a dance floor full of young 18yr olds, dressed to kill, full techicolour ball gowns complete with sequins and beading, partnered by handsome kilt clad gentlemen, ALL singing at the top of their voices AND doing ALL of the hand gestures to the nursery song…… I am a Music man, I come from far away…….
I can hear it now…………….
I am a music man,
I come from far away aayyyyyyyyyy,
What do you play aayyyyyyyyyy,
I play pian-nooooooooooo,
plinky plinky plinky plonk!
Plinky plonk, plinky plonk
Plinky Plinky Plinky Plonk……………
Wonderful… these 18 year olds who were singing their hearts out with as much gusto and enthusiasm as is possible (for 18 year olds that’s quite a lot), wildly gesticulating with hands flying around the air in theatrical mimicry of a pianist plying his trade. All of them; standing in all their glory with their ball gowns and kilts and manicured nails, hair extensions, professional make up (not those in kilts obviously), just so alive, so exuberant Their voices rising to, a rousing triumphal chorus of extravagance, plinky plinky plinky plonk plinky plonk, plinky plonk.
These were the same people who a just very short time ago would have been sitting where my sorry little entourage of battle fatigued, war wounded, misfits sat on my ‘day from hell’. It’s just so important to get these ‘days from hell’ into some sort of perspective, not always easy to see the big picture but sure as hell is important to keep on trying. And to be fair, it is possible that my 'Day from Hell', MAY.. have been influenced by my later than usual night and modest couple of glasses of wine, which MAY have made me just the tiniest bit less robust than I would usually be at work.
My belatedly found optimism was enhanced and brought sharply into focus on the last day of term, last Thursday, (yipeeeeee last day of term = no school for 6 whole weeks!!), sorry I digress. Last morning of last day of term saw the Annual Prize giving ceremony to which I invited myself, at the time the thought of an hour or so sat on me backside sounded quite appealing. I got more than I bargained for; we were treated to a 15 year old female singer performing her version of ‘Somebody to Love’, eat your heart out Simon she was absolutely bloody pitch perfect!! The guest speaker was a former pupil who now works in PR at the Scottish Parliament, the School Choir sang a selection of well known songs and they did it beautifully, the school Woodwind Group performed a difficult piece, 'Khasene March’ absolutely flawlessly and the list of pupils recognised for their outstanding skills and contributions outwith the school read like a roll of honour. I am not that easily impressed but ….. I was impressed.
The achievements are too many to recall, and anyway my memory isn’t what it used to be but; there are kids at our school who have been recognised at national level for their sporting skills, their artistic skills, their musical skills, their academic skills and for their commitment to our community. When I add together what I experienced at the 6th year Prom AND at the Annual Prizegiving it goes a long way toward putting into perspective the more difficult days of the year. Ours is a school in a not particularly desirable area, we have more than out fair share of so called social deprivation, kids in care, inappropriate behaviour etc etc. Yet from this quagmire of human debris flowers the most unexpectedly sweet buds of optimism.
Tags: 360 import, school, arbroath, scotland
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