Off topic, non-coherent, does not make sense; poorly put together, D minus.
The first essay of my first year 12 class of my biggest schooling year, which was destined to be the catapult into my career as a fashion journalist, and I had received a D minus grade. I broke down into colossal tears.
Now, I’ll let you in on why this was such a catalyst into my utterly embarrassing crying session with the responsible teacher and my one of my best friends who inconveniently had not left the class before the water works began. Never being a consistently ‘A-Grade’ student, I don’t normally place such an amount of care into the outcome of my grades. Sure, I would be disappointed when I received a low grade, but never in my life had I actually succumbed to the physical humiliation of bursting out into a pool of tears and wailing. I’m telling you, this display could have far outshone Kim Kardashian after she had lost her diamond earring in the waters of the Barbados seas, (how unfortunate). The reason that I burst into this horrifying display of water works, was due to the fact that I had set myself on the mental path of becoming a fashion journalist in my future career. A career that I believed was not only attainable, but distinctly the path perfectly set for me, due to the fact that for the entire year prior to this, I had not received a below B grade on a single piece of my English school work. That’s right, the average scoring, dyslexic country girl who had never listed English as a strength in her life, pulled off a near perfect first VCE year in English. Trust me, the shock was intense at first, but the sudden discovery of said ‘strength’ in any part of my academic schooling life was so much more than welcomed. I had gone from a year of praise and encouragement of a hidden talent, into an unwelcomed reality that I was not prepared for. An entire year of encouragement from a subject I had struggled with my whole life. A year that cemented my longed for but previously put aside career goal to become a fashion journalist, all because I struggled with writing.
To me, the poor grade meant I would never amount to becoming a journalist of any kind. That this poor grade would carry on for the rest of my VCE and I would end up with the world’s worst ATAR (university entry mark) and lose any hope of being accepted into any university. I assumed I would never make it past year 12 English, never get into a university, never become a fashion journalist, and spend my life as a failed stripper, only then to remember that I like pasta too much and can’t dance. Regardless, I thought that this one awful mark was the end of my career and life. This belief, as a student who never held such a care for the outcome of grades, was the result of the society that surrounded the world of ATAR’s. Going through high school, especially upon entry into the VCE years of 11 and 12, the amount of importance constantly surrounding your ATAR, the importance of receiving a high ATAR, and the realization that the whole system is a competition style ranking order of every student in the state can drive you insane. Think about it. First, there are the teachers, telling you to study and aim for the highest grades you can. Then the constant assembly meetings where you’re told to get the highest ATAR possible, and instructed time after time on the endless processes and paper work you need to undertake in order to receive your ATAR. Then there are the other students around you constantly on the topic of conversation, who you eventually realize are your competition. Then you have every other year level looking up to you and asking what to do when they’re in VCE, when you don’t fully understand yourself. Then there are your ‘family friends’ better known as your parent’s friends and the adults in your life constantly asking, “year 12?! You must be buried in homework! Remember not to get stressed!” Now add on the teachers literally telling you how the other classes in the same subject are getting a higher grade average, and they really want their class to be better than the others so they can get the end of year benefits. And lastly, as the first child in the family to go through VCE, you have your parents and immediate family who despite how much they try, are months behind in grasping the endless steps and processes you’re only just beginning to understanding yourself, that you need to undertake just to graduate.
I wouldn’t have felt the need to break down in my mess of tears when receiving my worst grade ever, had I not been given the impression that an ATAR score defines the rest of your life.
In all honesty I was always a good student, never a great one, never the worse one, but an average, where I should be, good student, and only since finishing high school did I realize that none of that matters. The only thing that matters is what you do after it. How much of a drive you have towards achieving what you most desire to achieve. How far you push yourself to keep going and to find an alternative when all else fails. I’m not saying that school doesn’t hold any significance to your future; I am simply saying that it is not the be all and end all of your career. My proof of that statement? Regardless of the shockingly below average final mark I received upon graduation, I earned a place in my first preference university course. That’s right. Only after this entire ordeal, did I realize that my first preference course, the course that I had to submit an application for prior to notice of my final outcome, that this course did not require an ATAR.
Good lord.
Sure enough, after that entire ordeal, I now happily study a Bachelor of Fashion Merchandising, and live as a tertiary student in the big smoke of Melbourne City, all without a proper ATAR.
That is why I have started this website. It is all a documentation and commentation on this new stage in my life, my unlikely entry into it, the world that surrounds it, and anything else that is shiny or sparkly and may catch my attention. I also want to do this as a hope that I may help someone else yet to come who goes through the same struggles as I did and not doubt, will still do.
I hope you enjoy the ride, because I know I sure will.
Welcome aboard!
missbellamizzi.wordpress.com 