I've been wanting to post up my Powerful or powerless reflection from Year 12 English since this year started...but I never came across to do so until now (perhaps procrastination? it probably is). Our English teacher made us describe our own personal experiences of strength and weakness as part of our theme analysis for text "The Secret River". Did I just make you cringe?
I was also surprised when I opened my Word document, I had in fact written my reflection in the size 10 font. I now religiously write in size 9 font.
Anywho, here you go!
The worse feeling in the world for a five year old child is being left alone, abandoned or exposed to change. The first recollection of these traumatic emotions occurred at the bank where my mother worked. It was a weekday and she had brought me into the bank introducing me to the staff. “She looks like you! She’s the mini version of you...” cooed everyone to my mother. She then brought me behind the teller desk and pulled out some blank pieces of paper from the cabinet. I was given a few pens and automatically understood that it was drawing time. I was too preoccupied tracing out the shape of my hand on the piece of paper to notice that my mother had left and worked in the other rooms. When I had realized her absence, I went astray from my activity and became scared, powerless and alone. Thoughts of “Where did mum go? I don’t know this place!” were running through my head. The tears were forming before my eyes as I turned my chair to the new woman next to me serving the customers at the teller. “I want my mum” I managed to quiver out among my twinkling eyes. I was reunited with my mum again when she walked through the door from her office. To avoid anymore tears, I was allowed to play happily on the floor with a bag full of rubber bands near her desk while she worked.
The worse feeling in the world for a five year old child is being left alone, abandoned or exposed to change. The first recollection of these traumatic emotions occurred at the bank where my mother worked. It was a weekday and she had brought me into the bank introducing me to the staff. “She looks like you! She’s the mini version of you...” cooed everyone to my mother. She then brought me behind the teller desk and pulled out some blank pieces of paper from the cabinet. I was given a few pens and automatically understood that it was drawing time. I was too preoccupied tracing out the shape of my hand on the piece of paper to notice that my mother had left and worked in the other rooms. When I had realized her absence, I went astray from my activity and became scared, powerless and alone. Thoughts of “Where did mum go? I don’t know this place!” were running through my head. The tears were forming before my eyes as I turned my chair to the new woman next to me serving the customers at the teller. “I want my mum” I managed to quiver out among my twinkling eyes. I was reunited with my mum again when she walked through the door from her office. To avoid anymore tears, I was allowed to play happily on the floor with a bag full of rubber bands near her desk while she worked.
A
time that I was physically powerless was also during my early childhood when my
legs were chronically fatigued. Moving the bottom half of my body took extreme
strength and pain causing the top half of my body to also become exhausted. Due
to this illness, I had to miss out on a few days of kindergarten which was
frustrating and boring. Cooped up in bed all day, I also missed going to the
local library and engrossing myself in the latest picture books there was to
offer. Not knowing or being able to understand the reason for this unceasing
condition, my body continued to feel an imaginary persistency of heavy weights being
held on top of me. Being isolated from stimulation and the exuberant outdoors
were all due to this exasperating bodily weakness.
The
status of being a year 12 student has been most welcomed with its various
privileges. Firstly, the anticipated opening of the year 12 kitchen was warmly
welcomed into our daily life as we’re allowed to independently cook and store
our own food. Feeling very much territorial, we’d grit out teeth so that no
other year levels were obliged to this region of ours. The ever beloved not so
silent, silent room is a place where other students can peer into their own
future behind glass windows. We’ve waited five years to use this room and if a
student believes that they should ever push their time and boundaries, they
should be prepared for colorful verbal abuse from the seniors. Wearing the
shiny gold year 12 badge on your jumper indicates separation and division from
the year 11’s, which is a pleasant acknowledgement of clear superiority within
the entire school. Walking in through packed corridors have became more of an
ease to most students as the light blue jumper, a uniformed signature of power;
recalls juniors to move their bodies away from yours. To witness a teacher walk
out of the class to control and scold other students for their nosy behaviour
because “The year 12 class is doing a
very important SAC” triggers a sense of empowerment and supremacy




2 comments:
So powerfully written.
THANK YOU SOPHIE :D i miss english with you!
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