People, we are in the last leg of the race! No more AA after Wednesday - can you believe it?
If you want a last-minute practice run of AA, here's something for you.
Good luck everyone - remember, just have fun
Year 12 "Misery" Is Real, But Remember, Your ATAR Doesn’t Have to Define YouSo, here I am near the end of my Year 12 experience, sitting at my computer writing this article.
Mind you, I am having my trials right now, and they aren’t going so great, but my genius idea, apparently, is to write rather than study. Fact is, I’m at breaking point, my wits’ end, "my spans last inch", and as a means to consolidate this life crisis, I’m writing about it.
See, I’ve witnessed the happiest people in my grade succumb to the poison of final exams. Don’t get me wrong, some are doing great. Fantastic, even. But there’s always one whose smile doesn’t quite reach their eyes.
Ask any HSC (or VCE or WACE or whatever) student how it’s going, and they won’t even reply. The HSC is special like that; it gives us the power to emit waves of misery to anyone around, so they can feel how it’s really "going". So cool, right? It takes time to master the skill, but I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.
You can always spot a HSC student, regardless of their uniform. You’ve just got to look for the signature bags under their eyes. These aren’t ordinary bags, either; these are bags that have bags for their bags.
As a HSC student, the most common thing you’ll hear is that "HSC doesn’t define you" or "HSC is not important". Of course, the HSC is, like, legit. Still, that saying is true, and your ATAR doesn’t determine your value in society or your value at all. In fact, looking at the larger spectrum of life, ATAR isn’t really that important. (Moment of silence for those of you who have just made this profound discovery. You’re welcome.)
Yes it’s true, as shocking as it may seem: after a while, your ATAR will be about as relevant as your primary school awards. Everyone congratulates you at first, and you place it on your shelf to show visitors of your achievement ("Oh, what’s this? Just my year six award for always completing my homework.") but after a while, you’ll find your shelf getting crowded with other things (in this metaphor: work and volunteer experience, other certificates and qualifications, et cetera), and the "ATAR" gets pushed back and back, until it falls behind and gets stuck between the wall and the shelf, forgotten there to collect dust.
Moral of the story: What you do defines who you are. Not your ATAR.
-Zuhor Xersi