5/27/2005 06:40:00 PM|||James O'Malley|||

Today was the result of thirteen years of school. It was the last day of school evar. With less than a week until my 18th birthday, I'm now officially too old for sixth form. Oh, the mixture of emotions that I'm failing to express!

This said, it was a good day today on the social front, but not on the coke front. I went to school this morning, sans bag and educational equipment, for my one lesson of IT. We did nothing, as usual, and I did something I've never done before. I rebelled against the system... on my last day! When my now former IT teacher had left the room, I made a run for it, and walked with pace back to the sixth form centre. Unfortunately, at the end of the lesson, one of my now former "classmates" informed me that my now former teacher was annoyed that I'd run away from the lesson. I hastily ran back to the IT room and apologised- she didn't care! I'd be wound up! By someone who I'd only spoken to perhaps twice in two years! And on the last day of school evar! Unbelievable!

It was now I realised that after thirteen years of school, I hadn't successfully bullied anyone. I had to make up for lost time. The next lower sixth people who walked into the sixth form centre had some bad luck. "Give me your lunch money!", I cried in the most menacing voice I could muster. To my surprise he complied and handed me two fifty pence pieces. I was taken aback- I wasn't expecting this! The guilt set in immediately and I tried to give him his money back. "No, keep it", the poor innocent victim shouted as I tried to fix this horrific injustice. After a brief argument, he took the money but... handed it to Heggs. Oh well, at least I can say I've been a bully.

I spent period 2 slackin' it up in the sixth form centre. It was exciting at the time, but probably not to you, the reader.

For some reason, my now former school forces everyone to return to their form rooms at 10:25 every day for 20 minutes of... absolutely nothing. Seriously. This isn't an exaggeration based upon there being easy work, we literally do nothing. It's because other "houses" (it's like Harry Potter) have assemblies. This even happens when all assemblies are cancelled due to exams. But anyway, point is, I had to endure the last ever "registration" (as they call it). It was an awkward affair, as none of our form actually like each other. More awkwardly, my form teacher had bought us all presents... presumably she was expecting us to have bought her one... whoops!

Then it was another big slack until the exciting leaving assembly. The only notable occurrence here was the number of enemies I managed to make with literally only hours left of full time education that doesn't have a big loan and a mountain of debt attached to it. I think I hurt my good lower sixth friend Heather's feelings by suggesting it could be the last time she ever sees me. (Unlikely). I also criticised another lower sixth's voice as "irritating". Needless to say, I'm brilliant at winning friends.

Finally, at midday, the big conclusion to my school career occurred. All of the upper sixth were in the upstairs of the sixth form centre, the projector was on, the head boy and girl were sitting smugly at the front of the room, and the senior staff were poncing. It was the leaving assembly, of course. (I think I spoilt the surprise of what happened after this big build up by mentioning it in the previous paragraph).

After a brief word from the very autocratic head of the sixth form, including a slyly played rendition of the Imperial March, the self-important head boy and head girl, who were elected after arguably the most corrupt ballot this side of Iran, presented various "awards" to various members of the sixth form. (Read: their group of friends).

The winners were largely decided by the people presenting the awards, with one or two of the awards being "democratic". Hmm.

The awards were both silly and serious in content- the standard "best sports people" and "best musicians", and the pseudo-standard "biggest flirt", "most likely to be Prime Minister". I say pseudo-standard because they're like standard "silly awards". Probably. I was gutted at not winning any awards- after my erm... massive contribution to sixth form life, you'd have expected me to at least get "best celebrity encounter", or something. The aforementioned Heggs won the award especially created for himself... best in drag.

Farce!

The soul band (starring my fellow Canned Ham editors, JD and Evilmonkey) played us out with a couple of songs that were so very close to sounding like Warsaw Pack, one of my favourite bands. Unfortunately, they were bland pop songs during the singing bits, as opposed to ranty left wing politics.

But anyway, afterwards, it was the end. No more teachers, no more school, no more homework, that's what's cool. Oh, apart from the exams THAT WILL DECIDE THE REST OF OUR LIVES.

Long story short, I ended up at (yet another of my many friends, who must all sound the same if you've only got my descriptions of events to go on) Scot's house. All of the usual upper 6th gang were there- so we did what we knew best. Slack. We slacked it up his garden, drinking coke. It was like being in the sixth form centre we'd abandoned only hours earlier... and it was lovely. It was like my two favourite activities rolled into one, with a lazy rabbit in the background.

The nicest thing was that I was spending the last day of school with four of my oldest friends- Andy, Craig, Teb and Bouff. (The names probably mean nothing to you... they don't have websites so I can't provide links for context). At around half three Bouff, Teb and I did the most pageantry-like thing possible. We took a final walk home like the old days. It was that exciting. When we parted, I shook their hands and walked off triumphant. Not sure why, though, as I didn't win any awards. How poignant!

|||111722093283758270|||Last hour of the last day of school