I don't know or remember much about myself in
kindergarten.
In
prep, I was friends with a kid that liked to steal other kids' hats and put them in bins. I can't remember if I actually did it myself.
In
grade one, I got really upset because I whispered 'fuck' to myself, and my 'friend' (different kid to prep) told on me. Some friend he was. I remember he got kept back in grade one the next year. I also started to show an aptitude for maths, or something. I fell from some steps and broke my nose as well. My uncle really helped with that - he told me that the throbbing was little men working to fix my nose. Nowadays, I go on photography trips with him, and we discuss topics as wide-ranging as investing, military strategy, philosophy, and the like.
In
grade two, there was this 'number game', where the teacher would get two kids to stand up, and then he would call out a multiplication question. I was always the last one standing, and I can't remember ever losing a final. I remember one time he said a question, and I instantly said "I beg your pardon?". I honestly didn't hear it properly, but he was a bit suspicious. I still won after that though.
In
grade three, we took a spelling test, and I miraculously scored 100% on it, which got me 'interested' in spelling. My teacher was known to be very strict among the kids, but he was never cross at me. We were all assigned numbers in the role, and we would all call out our number (in order) as fast as we could, and he timed it. That was a lot of fun. He was pretty strict to the class, but he often rewarded us with stories from 'Naughty Stories for Good Boys and Girls'. I got interested in WW2, and in particular tanks. I started to read a lot of non-fiction. I remember one day, my teacher was telling my mum that I should read some fiction, and less non-fiction. The teacher taught us good manners and general courtesy, which has been valuable I think. Later on in primary school, I decided that this was my favourite teacher of the lot.
We had regular spelling tests in
grade four. I used to prepare for them last minute, but always got 100% (20/20). I told one of the parents helping out that I had never got a word wrong, and she said that sometimes it was good to make mistakes. I wasn't too happy with her. One day late in the year, I got a word wrong. I can't remember what it was, but I was devastated. We started to participate in national maths/English competitions and standardised tests. I always scored miles ahead for my age, in reading in particular, but also maths. I started to see myself as academically superior to my classmates (and still haven't stopped) for the very first time, but often tried to help them out with problems. I got into Animorphs by K.A. Applegate, and the Tomorrow, When the War Began series by John Marsden, which were the first fictional books that I had read (willingly). We had to record how many pages we read each night, and I honestly recorded 100+ each night. I did a project on D-Day: Operation Overlord, and I still have it somewhere. Grade four was the first time I paid any real attention to my report at the end of the year, and was the first time I got all E's (top mark) for each of the fields (there were at least 50). This would continue in grade five and six.
For
grade five, I was in a mixed class with kids in grade six. I remember one time, when everyone was sitting down on the carpet, one of the grade six girls asked my best friend a trick question, and he got it wrong. She said to her friend, something like: 'Well if the smartest kid in the class can get it wrong...', but her friend said something like: 'No, the other one's smarter [referring to me]'. I had my back to them, but was listening all the same. I felt quite proud at that moment, but also a little sorry for my friend. I knew he was intelligent too.
In
grade six, there were these thin strips of paper with 50 maths questions on them, to be filled out as fast as you can (while timed). I took it really seriously, and even did practise ones during lunchtime (whenever I wasn't playing battennis or footy with my best friend). I kept progressing until I could do the hardest ones in blazing time. I was by far the quickest at that game. Interestingly enough, there were also footy tipping competitions (ignore this section if you're not Australian). For some reason, I got almost every round 100% correct, and even picked the premiers for the year (1/16 chance) early on. Nowadays there's an entire gambling business built around footy tipping, and had I been as accurate today as I was in grade six, I would win BIG money. A good portion of the grade 5/6s liked to play gang-tiggie during lunchtimes, which was fun due to the strategy, deception, psychology, and running that took place. I knew all the best hiding spots, and I tried to avoid getting in a chase, although I was pretty fast. There was this awesome spot that kids seemed to miss, and there were small gaps in the bushes where you could see out all around the courtyard, while remaining hidden. I had two backup route plans ready, but I rarely had to use them. From grade six onwards, I got really interested in the epic fantasy novel genre (I think it was after I watched LOTR 1). To this day, it remains the only fictional genre that I read, and sorry if this offends you, but it's a whole lot better than whatever the hell you're reading!
Year seven was a very different experience for me. I was finally doing a bit of history in class, which had been my favourite subject since grade three. I mostly left things to the last minute, but I did a fair amount of work too. I took all my tests and assessments very seriously, and rarely got below ~100% for each. One day in maths, we got a test back, and I got only one question wrong. I was really annoyed, because I knew that I actually got it right, and the teacher had it wrong. In the parent/student/teacher interview later on, my maths teacher said that I was a perfectionist, and I got REALLY pissed off at her. I didn't mind getting a question wrong, but I hated losing marks for no reason.
Year eight was horrible. My marks were the same as year seven, in other words, perfect. However, a group of boys in my class seemed to have a real issue with the fact that I was quiet and timid. Most of the 'bullying' was verbal, but there were some physical incidents as well, involving 'noogies' (head lock + hard rubbing of knuckles against scalp). I absolutely hated it, and hated them, but I never retaliated. This was my worst year of life that I can remember. Nothing bad enough to make me 'depressed' however. I guess I'm lucky in that.
Year nine, I got placed in a class with absolutely noone that I knew. However, it so happens that all the boys were computer gamers (or nerds, whatever you want to call them). I started to open up a bit more, and I found so much common ground with them. Most of them were 'rebels', so I imagine it must've been an unusual sight for the teachers to see me, the teacher's pet, become friends with the most rebellious kids in the year level. However I always had a rebellious streak which I never nurtured. This year took care of that! I figured out a way to acquire complete admin rights to the school intranet, and I could access all the reports, secret reports, and confidential data of all the students. I was showing one of my new-found friends how to do it, when a teacher caught us in the act. It so happened that my friend was seated at the computer, and I next to him (on the left). He took full responsibility for it, and almost got expelled, while I was lying to the teachers for the first time in my life. The way that my friend took all the blame and denied that I had anything to do with it, made me respect him an enormous amount. I was completely dumbfounded by the way he smoothly denied that anyone else had anything to do with it, and told them that he was in fact showing me my report (with my consent of course). He has been one of my closest friends ever since. My marks immediately dropped from A+ to B+/A as I adopted a lazy/indifferent/rebellious attitude towards schooling. Only my Chinese marks were completely unaffected, and they remained the highest of the year level (after all, it's impossible to get above 100% in every test). I bet the Chinese teachers were shocked when their favourite model student decided to drop the subject the next year.
Year ten was more bludging than ever. This was when the 'lazy intelligent guy' image started to set in. I can't remember any particularly striking anecdotes for this year.
Year eleven was more of the same. Now that I'm getting closer and closer to the present, I'm remembering less and less it seems.
Year twelve was the final year of secondary school, and everything seemed to revolve around exams. Not that I noticed. The only studying I did was on the morning of a test. I took my essays and assignments seriously, but no regular homework for me. An amusing year, full of inside jokes and intellectual rebellion. Exams went fine, relative to the amount of study I did. I got an 87, while I needed an 85 to get into the course I wanted. This proves that I did not overwork. Good thing I didn't.
This year I'm at
uni, doing a Bachelor of Science undergraduate course, probably to major in physics. So far it seems good, but the best part is the fantasy reading while in the Rowden White Library (a library with mostly fictional books, dvds, and fun stuff). As you could have probably guessed, I need to work on my two assignments, but I'm procrastinating!
Wow, longest post I've ever written. Go me. Yay.