The thing is, for the past year so many has gone through so quickly I haven't had the time to stop and look back until school ended. Yes - one whole year in that mess.
Summer has just gone and we're finally stepping into the IB.
Honestly, that one year of pre-IB was messy enough and it has made me fear the real IB so much. One year of pre-IB was so busy and when you are told you'd be busier even still your brain just has no way to comprehend with that. Those nights busily working way after the hours, that night I couldn't even stand up from my chair and ended up lying on the floor after the math, "googling" the table just for that one important sheet of paper and that stack of notes... It's so mad.
Well yes they compare the IB to the A-levels. Kind of feels like we're skipping GCSE and directly jumping into IB (and in fact we are). It's not that I'm not prepared for the IB - I know what to expect, I know how much I need to sacrifice - but still it still seems too much.
School is starting in less than 12 hours and a few days ago one teacher of ours already uploaded a deadline for a piece of coursework that needs to be "internally assessed and externally moderated". The stress is coming in way before school starts. Together with that 20-page-thick of "guidelines" that we need to go through and all those strict rules and administrative business, I have to honestly say it is comparable to a prison.
A senior told me I am worrying for nothing, considering the amount of stress we've already undergone in pre-IB year, it would not be much harsher in the real IB. I don't know whether that's just an understatement, or whether that is the case. I believe the former in fact. They say prepare for the worse, right?
It's so weird. I can't picture myself in the IB working, studying, struggling, at all. I can only foresee what would happen tomorrow morning - the roll call. None of my imagination stretches beyond it. And as the clock ticks, the minutes pass by, the hours fly through, much of my attention is placed right on where I step into that building, scanning my ID card on the card-reader, and perhaps ready to start. I don't know how I'll start, I don't know where to start, I don't know what to do to start off with, I can't imagine myself starting. My imagination is completely blank beyond roll-call.
I guess pre-IB has already gotten into me so hard even now as I am writing this I keep on being careful not to use "abbreviations" (Yes I am aware I have used it already, but I am not going to explain why here), as we were taught in the pre-IB lessons when we are writing essays. I'm so mindful of every sentence I write (even though I'm pretty sure I would have made mistakes here and there) - even every now and then I would accidentally type "I'd" or "I'm" and have to delete it. See, the madness. (And now comes to urge to double check and proofread it - WHO DECIDED THAT THIS HAS TO BE IN TIMES NEW ROMAN TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A TYPICAL ESSAY!?)
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It all feels like on a track where you are already beaten, bleeding, hurt, and you walk slowly, carefully, tiredly... You finally see a line marked on the track.
It's the starting line.
Beyond this line is darkness. That bold, thick brick of tar.
They say rainbow comes after rain. But there isn't even the sun. Not that I can see it.
CC Note: I am still in agreement of my saying that I would only return to this blog whenever I feel sad. So far I'm keeping up with it.
