I happened to attend a school for my A-level where I would come to learn that you don't have to first get to University in order for you to lose that "daddy's princess" naivety. It wasn't my intention to go there in the first place but my "former traditional" school was giving me the "waiting-list" BS just because I didn't have a newspaper-front page-first-grade: those ungrateful bastards, I was angry. I know I read novels during prep instead of understanding Pottasium Permanganate & Bernoulli's principle but c'maaaan, I was an old student, I gave you a first choice and got a good first grade, the least you can do is hand me that admission letter before these excited atoms from schools in my home district coming with their intolerable accents and small-town-girl mentalities to live their urban dream, I thought. No, I am not about to apologize for my thoughts, hehehe….
So seeing as I couldn't bench there or elsewhere, sijui go to "Cheat-ende" (don't kill me I saw this on twitter) or Muyingo's institutions (too mainstream), I took a totally different turn. Even the bazeeyi were in shock….but them being the we'll-support-you-no-matter-what-you-choose kind of parents, they were finally convinced I would still make it. I was very excited I must admit, the things I saw in that prospectus you won't believe: swimming classes on the curriculum, prom parties (like who needs monotonous sosh), the cute uniform, being able to carry my wardrobe to school for after class and weekends (I was a denim trousers person for a long time)…not to mention there was to be a dance the weekend after I reported, I mean, this was the ideal life!
Lesson 1: It was actually possible to look forward to school.
Fast forward to my first dance; time check and it's about 1800 hours and rooms are filled with the excited buzz of everyone dressing up and old students talking about their last dance experiences and what they expected this time. Incidentally, the tomboy in me just felt it appropriate to throw on shorts (knee-length) and a cute little tee, comb my by then short hair and step out. Barely had I shut the room door, when a form 6 roommate who was watching me the whole time (let's call her Manuela) screamed my name and stopped me in my tracks.
(I turned around)
Errrmm, where to?
Me: The dance….? (Startled)
Manuela: Like that? Come back
(looks at self confused while walking back)
It was in that moment that the other two girls in the room as if on cue, descended on my suitcase and started an unsolicited search for "better clothes" while Manuela sat me on the bed and started to apply lipstick and 'wanja' yeah, that cosmetic that stings and brings tears to the eyes in case you're wondering, to my inner lower eye lids……..let's just say I ended up wearing skinny jeans and that I also will never ever apply that wanja poison to my eyes.
Lesson 2: Wear make up….even if that make up brings a painfully stinging sensation to your eyes and get's you all teary.
At the dance was this really cute….(yeah he was reaaally cute) guy that everyone had been talking about in class. Let's call him Jacob; well I hadn't officially met Jacob but I knew about him from a certain popular neighborhood near our home. Having been in an all-girl traditional school, when I got to the dance it didn't really occur to me first hand that it's necessary to perhaps notice the guys and engage in small talk during a dance. Therefore, I, together with my two new friends got our groove on, jamming to every song until we were literally sweating and could dance no more. Did I mention dances in my school ended not earlier than 3 a.m? Yeah, so there we were tired by 11p.m and the dance was still so much on. Also there were drinks on sale but I had no money on me so I just decided to take a seat somewhere. It is then that Jacob and I met. He came sat next to me and we chatted, laughed and giggled the whole night away. Whereas I am not really into the habit of warming up to strangers that fast, I also did mention that Jacob was and distractingly cute so you can't really blame a girl, can you? The end of this story is that by the end of the night I had unknowingly made enemies with about 8 girls in my class.
Lesson 3: Do not have a completely innocent nice normal conversation with the boy that every girl or even any girl wants.
Reporting days: let's talk about those, shall we? For those who went to traditional schools, you know that on the first day of school or at least by the second day if someone is not in their seat it is really a matter of concern. In my new school it was totally normal and there are first days where we were about 10 people out of a class of 40 students…and no, make no mistake, this is not a lack of school fees issue. It's just somehow students had the wrong reporting days (at least that's what I'd like to believe) or it just didn't really matter whether you missed a few weeks or days of school. It was perfectly normal and quite frankly, wasn't any cause of alarm to the students and teachers alike, after all, who didn't dread the mere thought of going back to school?
Lesson 4: you could report to school anytime you wanted….who cares if you miss a few days, reporting dates are just protocol.
Prep time dress code: For the longest time I wore mostly shorts and denim trousers so while packing for school that's exactly what I packed. So for my first prep I wore jeans, a hoodie (I mean prep gets cold) and those Chuck Taylor All Star Sneakers and when I entered class, I got "the looks." I later understood why, when I looked around and saw skinny jeans and cute little tank tops and colored hair bands. In the days that followed, a certain girl frequented our room in the evenings asking to borrow "that top that you wore on Sunday" or "your bomber jacket" and it occurred to me that you had to look your best even during prep.
Lesson 5: Look your best at all times….doesn't matter if it's just for prep. Look your best…even if you have to borrow the clothes.
There was just a lot to learn and get acclimatized with but you see, the way my body is set up, I shall need to rest and catch up with this on another ocassion. Till then…….I remain yours, The Ivy League's Apprentice.