On the bright, cold day of the eleventh of August, a letter pertaining information, and one that could potentially deliver a catastrophically deathly blow towards my self esteem, gently enticed my mother's gmail spam folder. We locked eyes, and the chill bone-struck thumb hovered above the "Open Message" button that appeared onto the iPhone screen stained with soy sauce. A short, sharp breath escaped from my chastised and chapped lips in deathly need of hydration. My broken Chinese marred the atmosphere, 我 考上, elated laughs followed in succession.
Okay, enough "Melbourne High Creative Writing" examination jargon. I
somehow managed to "get" into, yes I did italicize those; I genuinely don't know how. Despite not conforming to Asian stereotypes and withering away all Saturday and Sunday afternoons to sitting in un-air-conditioned classrooms with ovals named A to E, and not attending a single scholarship coaching class, I still made it into one of the prestigious selective schools of Melbourne. Well, there's really only two, Macrob and Melbourne High; Nossal and Suzanne Cory are considered 'reject' schools for the dubious seedy underbellies of Melbourne's far east and west metropolitan areas. I did feel slightly "guilty", as in I had classmates that were locked and loaded; chocked with private tutors, scholarships classes and boost in morale for being a perfect well rounded epitome of the ideal kid: fluent Chinese, proficient in two or more instruments and participates in at least one state level sport.
I've already been suffocated by the poisonous culture of being a "gifted and talented" student for the past two years. On year seven orientation day we had three kids already talking about future VCE courses and university courses and this was exacerbated by the presence of kids bringing in their year seven NAPLAN mock exams to interrogate the year level co-ordinator with. I've been encroached by the bias and prejudice of all the "other" kids warping their perception of what "actually being smart is", of course letting their bias and prejudice against Asians (or South East Asians in this case, I've had a fair share insults from Indian kids such as: "chink", "small eyes" and "the yellow race") to shadow basic social etiquette. Kids who want to "get to VCE already" and redirect all efforts subjects with "futures", so just Maths and Science; but of course not without the mention of how their dad, "back in the day", got perfect scores, and how he was "a real hard worker".
Oh, and yes, the principal had to walk into the future median ATAR boosters (I mean the year seven gifted and talented accelerated class
) to inflate their ego with "You're all so special" and "Don't let anyone not let you be yourself". Of course a chorus of scoffs and hmms, no; a melody of scoffs and "huhs" followed suit as I sat dumbfounded at the kid reading a year twelve maths quest books across the ledge of me. I closed my eyelids and subdued myself to the toxic nature that I am forced to reside in for my high school career (which the principal referred to).
And another question, does everyone go through a phase of intentionally projecting an image of simply redirecting all their efforts towards the opposite gender by year eight? I've sat through countless sessions of "You're wasting your talent" by my English teacher as I teeter the tattered edges of my workbook as I gaze into the distance ignoring the overly simple vocabulary sheet my classmates struggle with... I've sat through countless sessions of art classes in which my classmates continue to boast about how "Art doesn't lead to real careers" and "Only Maths and Science does".... So will you please relinquish my yearn for what does Melbourne High encapsulate the general school population with?
Does my English ability (as my teacher refers to) substantiate my entry into the acclaimed utopia that is known as Melbourne High?
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