That afternoon, she walks into the house for the first time. It's dim. The ceiling light shone weakly. A thick curtain covered the window. "Good afternoon", they exchanged greetings. She saw a mahjong table in the center of the room. Books, papers, folders, a pencil case covered the green table. Instinctively, she walked over and took a seat beside her student. Question after question of mathematics filled the stale afternoon air. "Do you understand?" "Yes, I do", the student always replies, albeit with a blank expression. That blank expression that fills the face of the dazed, the uninterested, the blur. The mother puts on a surgical mask and gloves and begins wiping down the room. Every spot is kissed by the cloth gently. No area is missed. It's strange. A musky scent filled the house, the corners are dark, the walls black with years of neglect, the sofa peeling from mistreatment. Yet, the mother is prideful in her job that afternoon.
Take this sinking ship and point it home; We've still got time (Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, Falling Slowly)
I just realised the reality of informing parents that I, their dear daughter, has failed Chem twice in a row. 43%. And that isn't a pretty picture. Its a son-of-a-bitch of a reality. It's always at this point of time wherein I panic, and regret not studying harder, though I can't quite change anything already. That panic should probably kick in 1 month before the exams where I actually can do something. Pity my reaction system is a tad delayed. And I don't seem to have conditioned to the idea of: Panic way before exam > Study > Do relatively ok > Happily ever after. It's probably also not good that I don't think critically enough. Observing and thinking should be natural. Just not coming to me. So there was a talk on how to write personal statements. So people get coached on how to write personal statements. Any random person's personal statement can be transformed from a bland boring one into a pretty, inspiring, lovely, memorable, unique one with ...
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