Occupational thoughts

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A wave of weirdness has hit the school. It happened all very suddenly and everyone’s going to say that I’m just a grumpy angry teenager for posting this. However, it needs to be said.

It started with the yearbook. Each person had to have a 50-word summary about to them and a picture (a bit like Facebook except more pretentious). These cost £7 but they started off as leather-bound hardback volumes printed by a professional company. Those ones cost £15 but were eventually scrapped. In registration we were forced to vote on ridiculous awards like ‘Best couple that never was’ or ‘Most attractive boy’. So that the person in question can stand up at the ‘end-of-year celebration’ and get publicly humiliated.

Then a Prom committee was called up and they decided on an innocently alcohol-free night of dance studiously overlooked by teachers. A professional photographer will be available, for £6 he will trail you for the night and take ‘professional’ photos of you which you can then order prints of from a website. The theme is ‘the Oscars’. Being a creative chap I took this to mean turning up as Klaatu from the (original, black-and-white) ‘the Day the Earth Stood Still’. As it happens the ‘Oscars’ theme just means that everyone should turn up in generic dinner suits and evening dresses.
If that wasn’t enough to put me off, loads of people talked about who they’re going to prom with or how they’re getting there. Apparently turning up to Prom in a hired limousine doesn’t make everyone instantly think of you as a huge walking twat. And who shall I go with? Hmmm, lets think about this carefully now, I don’t assign anyone with the social stigma of being my ‘Girlfriend’ so I suppose I’ll just have to go on my own. But wait! If I turn up on my own, my image among my peers would disintegrate because I don’t think of anyone highly enough to label them as a ‘Girlfriend’. Aha, the solution to this is to prowl around lecherously searching for a mate to dance with. WRONG.
Not to mention the endless fussig over idiotic details such as ‘What dress should I wear’ or ‘What music should we play’.

The ticket to Prom itself costs £20. That includes a whole night dressing up like you’ve just come back from a Victorian dinner party and pretending you’re cool while talking to teachers about something other than work.

 

Third and last thing which pisses me off: Hoodies. Despite both the establishment’s attempt to halt “hoodie culture” and the student body’s outspoken stance on school uniforms they’ve been buying “Cherwell School leavers” hoodies in droves. I counted no less than 14 people wearing them in a Biology lesson on the first day they were sold. To give them some credit, they were re-named from “leaver’s hoodies” to “class of ’09” hoodies after too many people complained that they weren’t actually leaving Cherwell after Year 10: They were just going up to Sixth-Form.
I neglected to find out how much they cost but by this point I don’t really care.
UPDATE: as someone commented – they cost £15. Roughly the cost of a good game on Steam. Or a good book. Or 2 second-hand mangas. Save your £15 for something else.

 

Again, you can look at this two ways: Firstly, I would have really thought that our year group would have grown up out of such childish foolishness. Secondly is that I’m just an arrogant grumpy teenager with nothing better to do than criticize.

Written by Pierre

April 30, 2009 at 18:37

Posted in life

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