Tomorrow is my graduation day. I’ve been in this school for six years now. I could write an entire blog post about how I’ve changed and how my life has changed in this school, but I think I’d rather make this a light-hearted post.
The first week of school was orientation week for all of us, because although most of my classmates had been in the school for more than six years already, we were starting secondary school and there were a lot of changes. One of the activities was an exercise in leadership. We were divided into groups and the designated group leaders had their hands tied behind their back. The object of the activity was that the leader had to direct the group to build something using only words. Partway through the activity, my group leader’s trousers fell down. I didn’t want to say anything, because I didn’t know him that well and expected one of the other group members, all of whom had known him for years, to do something. He turned to one of the girls standing next to him and asked her to help him, while the boys in our group stood back and laughed. We were 11. If this had happened in our senior year, maybe someone would have helped him. I hope we would have been more mature about someone’s trousers falling down (which honestly isn’t as big a deal as it seemed at the time), yet at the time, I was impressed that nobody harassed him about it afterwards. They laughed when it happened (out of awkwardness, not malice), and his closer friends gently teased him about it, laughing with him, but (as far as I know), he was never bullied for it. That really struck me, because in my previous school, they would have.
Fast forward five years and a girl in history class realises she has her period and needs a pad. She uses hand signals to try to communicate with a female classmate, but the (male) teacher notices and asks what she’s saying. Despite the entire class being five years more mature, they still can’t talk about menstruation without blushing.
Later the same year, the school announces that everyone will be having sex education classes. During the first class, everyone tries to sit at the back of the room and silence reigns supreme. It soon becomes clear that only myself and one other girl are willing to discuss sexuality. Many of my classmates still will not say the word ‘sex’, despite the fact that we’re all 17 or 18 years old and above the age of consent.
This post honestly doesn’t have a point, I just wanted to talk about how although we’ve all grown so much, we’re still children and not very mature.