School days are, according to the saying, meant to be the happiest days of your life. Its meant to signify that the carefree days of school are shortly replaced by bills, adult worries, job hunts and stinky nappies a plenty.
My take? Give me the adulthood slab of supposed misery cos school was pretty damn nowhere near as fun as it was held up to be for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I do remember some bits fondly. I made some friends, like Nursey Natalie, Eskimosie Josie and Bestie Mate Zoe, to name a few.
The issue I had was I was a bit (Understatement alert) of a geek, and instead of hiding in the library, I put myself out there for further torture by joining in with Athletic Club, Dance Club (and its subsequent shows for the whole school), School council and was a Prefect too. If there was something to join up to, I was always at the front of the queue like a 90s Patty Simcox, wielding a pen to put my name down for it.
By far the worst part of school, though, was “No Uniform” or “Tag” day. I can’t remember why it was called “tag” day in my school, so if your school used that definition and you know why, feel free to let me know. There was also the dreaded “Activity Week” which mixed no uniform horror with a week of “fun” (the teachers term, not mine) at the end of the school year. Basically, every year until Year 10, the classes divided up and took part in a contest, including Netball (awful at it, inexcusably bad, which doesn’t do well when you factor in the competition element), or scientific competitions like the well remembered (note the lack of “fondly” affixed there) “get an egg across the netball court without breaking it” test. Fights would break out within class groups, and some kids would bribe losers like me and my fellow geeks to fake illnesses for that week so they improved their chances of winning a Yorkie bar each. Plus I had no sartorial elegance and my parent’s had no funds to supply me with designer sports wear, so it wasn’t something I looked forward to.
I walked through the doors on my final day with untold glee, knowing that, save for bumping into a few of the worst bullies the odd time in town, I’d never have to see the shower of losers I put up with between the age of 5 (in some cases) until the age of 16 ever again. To the point that, when I organised the school reunion, I asked the people I actually liked along.
Its all been going very well- especially since I hot footed it out of Medway five years back. I have avoided becoming a regular member of Friends Reunited, and have all but ignored friend suggestions on Facebook too. Especially since it never suggests people you’d want to add, just ones you forgot to add to your block list (so I suppose it does serve one purpose).
I have an ex-school friend, Marie, and she is lovely. She was near the top of the reunion list, such was her ability to be nice to everyone. She always looked nice at school, like the bullies, but was just a happy smiley person to be around.
She kind of keeps the home fires burning when it comes to what our year, Class of 1993-1998, are up to, so, when she invited me to try a new app on Facebook called “schoolfeed” (all one word, lower case), I thought I’d have a nose.
Why, why did I think that was a good idea?
I can only assume it was the after effects of no carbs and 3 gin and tonics making me feel warm and fuzzy towards school.
All that has happened is, besides finding one girl who I had tried to find but had been unsuccessful due to her having changed her name, I’ve been added by the worst possible offenders for school abuse. The ones who, to put in bluntly, I would not save from falling off a cliff edge. Or spit on if they were on fire. You get the idea- I really do not like them at all.
Why do these no marks think that I want anything to do with them? It would have been fine if they had of just ignored me, but these were the kind of nasty people who went out of their way to be abusive, and/or violent towards me. One girl was so nasty to me over Infant, Primary and Secondary, that on the last day of school before our GCSE exams, I punched her in the face. Then ran home and hid. But this was after daily abuse- she would seek me out to be violent to me, throwing basketballs in my face and nearly breaking my nose, throwing tennis balls at me (and knocking me out), or the lovely “board pins in playdoh on a chair” trick.
What possesses this person, a part from she is obviously still as intellectually challenged as she was at school, to think I want to reminisce on those heady days of daily kicks, punches and thefts of anything she could nick from my bag while I cowered from further blows?
Frankly, I will be ditching schoolfeed pronto. It makes it worse that you can deny their request, yet they can send it again and again. If they are that thick that no doesn’t mean no the first time, then they really need to get out more.
Schoolfeed. Why do we need it? In this day and age of social media, if we want to find a specific chum, it doesn’t take that much effort. We don’t need another pointless app.
So, dear schoolfeed, you shall be buggering off soon.