The Week of Little Attendance

Monday Morning. A girl gets up, doing all of those things a 9 year old kid does to get up and go to school. Entering school, she trumps her way through the freezing playground, up the classroom ramp and indoors.

Not many people were around, but she figured, with a sigh, that it was still early and there was plenty of time for that to change.

And when little under half a class were present, the school day began.

(And a heck of a fun one it was too!)

She had little idea 'twas to be the week of little attendance...

The enjoyable activities went on through the week. (she avoided the horrid cut-stick-arty-stuff one afternoon by having a Violin lesson instead, which was far better) The numbers reduced for Tuesday, increased for Wednesday morning but whittled down to Tuesday's figures in the afternoon, and a small trickle of pupils started to appear for Thursday and Friday.

However, the next Monday returned a full class once again and the class remained full to Friday's assembly, where the class percentages were announced.

5AZ - 89%
5BY - 72%

(I made those two up on the spot, however, the true value for our class percentage is showed below.

If you don't want to know the result, look away now!)

5MH - 55%

Related: Eid

Betraying Trust

As a 10 year old, I was trusted to walk home by myself. In later days I walked part of the way with a nice girl called Hepzibah. But in the earlier days I used that trust for my own purposes.

Going on the swings.

I started off rather paranoidedly (is that even a word?), as you do - it would be one or two minutes before I was hiking home again, smiling about my victory and hastening off home.

It wouldn't be too long before I started to get cocky.

This started with staying longer at the playpark, 5 to 10 minutes minimum. because it was so fun.

Then I started to use the other gate out of school. It was closer to the park than the one I was supposed to use, so I used it. Unfortunately for me the Lollipop Lady there was good friends with my mother and she told Moth that I'd been going out that gate recently. Moth automatically thought "Bullying" and so she asked about it several times. I wasn't supposed to be going to the swings, I thought, so I never said anything about that, and as Moth only followed up the bullying line I got off Scott-free. Which must have been very relieving for Scott.

As I started to get even more comfortable about my stupid little excursions I started going the park way home rather than the way I was supposed to go. This could have caused 152 problems, but only one occurred - that is, I spent so much time in the park that I met my elder brother and sister on the way home. They asked me why I was going that way, and I lied, by saying that I'd been gathering conkers. I'm not sure if they were convinced or not but they never really looked into it.

I started walking with a 6-7 year old and her family instead (My sister thought this was immature, but so was I) and later on, a girl of my own age - Hepzibah. I guess it was more appropriate than playing on the swings.

I Solved The Mystery!!!! :D

*Looks around expectantly to see if anyone claps or cheers*

*Nothing Happens*

Aww...

A load of Year 6 students in a classroom. A bald teacher talks to them. The students get on with their task.

A boy and I take it in turns to write a short sequence of numbers on a mini whiteboard. Then the person not writing then writes more figures that correlate with the pattern.

He writes, 200, -200, 200, -200, 200, -200...

I write, ...200, -200, 200, -200, 200, -200...

Later on in the lesson, we cover the nth term.

Ever since then, I have thought back to that sequence, wondering whether there was a way to express the general pattern of the sequence. But not enough to use Google.

And today, I found it at long last.

Now are you happy?

The Farm

When I was in Year 4, there was a prospect of a really bloody good school trip - a 2 and a half stay at a farm not too far from home. It was the most excitement-filled trip in my life up to then, and from what the officials said, it looked brilliant, and I could not wait. I'd never spend so much as a night away from home and it was really exciting!!!!!!!

As it got nearer and nearer the trip I got more and more excited, and all of the paperwork boredom and things like that got completed, and soon it was just a point of making sure you were there on time.

Some point very near to the trip, I started feeling crappy. But it wouldn't last long, I told myself. I would be okay by Monday, I would be fine by Monday, it would be someone else who felt rubbish by Monday. I was not going to miss the best trip of my life so far, nope, never. Of all of the trips in the world, this wasn't going to be the one to miss. It was going to be a brilliant trip, and I. Would. Be. There.

When, on Sunday evening, it became obvious that I wouldn't be going, I was really upset about it. Even my two new toy cats couldn't cheer me up. Stupid bloody illnesses.

If those are toy cats.

Monday came. I'd be going on that trip if this damned illness hadn't got me, I thought gloomily.

That day was spent feeling gloomy and rubbish and really just plain dreadful, until a little glimmer of hope shined. You see, the way we were going to go was our class plus half of another class from Monday to Wednesday lunch, when the rest of the year would go until Friday. And in my naive 8 year old mind, I genuinely believed that this was actually a viable option. 

Only it wasn't to be. Even if it was feasible, I still felt all eeuuurrrghhh. It was horrible to feel so yucky and it was horrible to miss out on what could have been the best trip ever.

The yuckiness stayed around for 3 weeks after it started, one of those weeks I was in school and had turned to tears because I'd been confronted about some work that wasn't very good (it may have been art and I never was good at art anyway). Not the happiest time of my life.

After everything was okay again I ignored my brother, Crotchet, who moaned about never having the chance of the farm visit (when he was in Year 5 the pupils who took the farm visit were changed from Year 6 students to Year 4 students) and pinned all of my hopes on having perfect health for the Year 6 France trip. Thank God that that did happen.

Remember me?

N: Hi, do you remember me?

Me: *thinking about high school* Err...

N: Oak class? Mr H?

Me: *trying to remember Year 6* Umm...

N: G's friend?

Me: I think I remember you... err...

Problem with my memory #1 - Forgetting most people I've met before, and/or not recognising them after years of change.