Pressure

If statistics could kill, I'd be dead by now.

Upon the release of last year's A level results, teachers obtain

the facts and figures of their students' (or not) performance in

each and every subject, every class, everyone.

And we aren't spared, AT ALL.

The rot begun yesterday as our dearest Ms Tan May May, the

great chemistry educator, launched into a tirade following

my class' dismal showing in the previous Lecture Test.

Believe it to be true, we were ranked LAST.

To rub salt into the wound, the entire class was 10 mins late

for her remedial lesson. And there she exploded into a

concussion of reprimand peppered with mispronounced

words and sprinkled with a zest of Singlish.

Though I was beginning to feel the heat, I kinda hated her

for ranting and raving like an escapee from the local

asylum. She even threathened to bar me from soccer if I

screw my block test up real bad.

Take away the beautiful game, and Dinie aint just Dinie.

Today, Friday the third:

It was our wordwise GP teacher Madame Lim who was

irked by our lax attitude towards GP. She commanded us to

consider; whether other subjects are more paramount that

GP. Her stand was obviously NO. Tryina rile us up, she

mocked our ability in that language and claimed that

most failures will come from my class, my S42!

If that actually transpires, she already has plans to quit

and enjoy the rest of her live swimming in the pool of her

wealth. CPF included.

Which certainly makes me ponder.

How f**kin bad are we?

Is there hope?

I feel now is the best time to start my revision and to catch up

with others who are leap and bounds ahead. I feel so useless and

extremely vulnerable at the moment, looking at the state of my

studies. Seems to be beyond repair.

But I shall have faith and commitment to the cause.

I shall work doubly hard to get to levels I've never fathomed

possible. WIth grit, hope and determination, Im sure that any

varsity would be within reach.

And kids, always always recall; there is always a silver lining

behing evry cloud. Put in the effort and may you, and I, reap

the fruits of mugging.

Oh, and what a scummy man!