Blogging Through Year 12

There’s something incredibly artificial about VCE English. As one who actually enjoys writing, I’ve found the parameters of the course – in particular the Exam conditions – to be unnecessarily limiting. In the real world, people are rarely given one hour to write a brilliant piece of literary genius. In the real world, few people take the time to sit down and nitpick about the persuasive techniques used in a given. I see English in the real world like a sponge. When we read, we absorb; soak in thoughts, feelings and information. When we write, we release what we have learned in conjunction with our own original ideas. But when I look at the structure of the English exam, I don’t see a sponge. I see a brick wall. And I’m banging my head against it.

I’m two blessed days away from completing the final Unit 4 English SAC. I’ve been eating, sleeping and breathing Into Thin Air for weeks. I daresay that after exams, I will never be able to look at the book again. Not because I didn’t enjoy reading it, but because it has been tainted by association; association with all the negative things about year 12. The stress, the competition, the persistent voice in the back of my head going ‘Get me out! Get me out!’

So I will sit my English exam. I will run this silly race. And then I will do whatever I like.

Perhaps I will read a book, purely for the fun of it.

I would suspect that many people – more people, at least, than for other courses – go into an arts degree without knowing why. They drift into it because they don’t know what else to do. They’re not very self-organised and so it doesn’t prove to be all that worthwhile for them. Hence the perception that arts degrees are useless.

As I enrol to do a Bachelor of Arts, I am conscious that I will have to be very self-motivated and choose units that are relevant and stimulating. I certainly don’t want to be one of those people who either drop out or get to the end of a BA wondering what the hell they spent three years of their life doing.

I intend to get as much out of university as I can and plan to do an exchange year at a foreign university for language study (Mandarin). I’m looking forward to taking part in student union activities. I am not an individual who is drifting into a Bachelor of Arts because I don’t know what else to do. I considered applying for law, but even if I did get a high enough ATAR for law, I wouldn’t take it up. Although this sounds corny, that wouldn’t be being true to myself.

I certainly don’t feel smug and contented and certain about what I want to do with my life. But to have established this – my number 1 preference to put on the tertiary admissions preference list – is a welcome ray of certainty which I make no apologies about being glad about.

‘…readers are often poorly served when an author writes as an act of catharsis, as I have done here. But I hoped something would be gained by spilling my soul in the calamity’s immediate aftermath, in the roil and torment of the moment. I wanted my account to have a raw, ruthless sort of honesty that seemed in danger of leaching away with the passage of time and the dissipation of anguish.’

– John Krakauer, Into Thin Air –

Now it may be bordering on blasphemous to say so, but in a way these words by Krakauer somewhat embody my sentiments regarding this blog. Of course, the ‘torment’ of year 12 pales in comparison to the horrific events of the 1996 Everest disaster. However, I like to think of these musings as my little bit of ‘catharsis’ in amongst the stress and mental strain of the past few months.

As such, I apologise profusely for any excess whinging I may have inflicted upon you. I hope my complaints have not been overabundant.

I also apologise in advance for anything that I may say in the coming weeks that may seem irrational or obsessive. With exams just around the corner, I’m afraid all the cognitive faculties usually reserved for normal human functioning are quickly being annexed by the parts responsible for ‘study’, ‘cramming’ and ‘stress’.

But bear with me folks; there’s not long to go now.

One day at a time. Supposedly that’s the only way to get through year 12 with your sanity intact. Maybe that explains why I sometimes have to question if my sanity is intact. Relatively of course, I really can’t complain. The vast majority of my time in the past view months has been pretty easy-going. But even when the workload is ‘off’, the pressure never is.

I’ve thought a bit about this, and I reckon there are three states of being in Year 12:

1. Studying
2. Being stressed out because you aren’t studying
3. Having your motivation so far gone that you aren’t studying and you don’t care

Unfortunately, none of these states of being is both endurable and practical for an entire year. At the moment I’m in a bit of limbo. I’d very much like to be in state 1, but often I only make it to state 2. And woe to me, I’m becoming increasingly skilled at floating along in state 3.

Perhaps I will make it my goal to be truly diligent this week; apply myself like a good little year 12 should. Sadly, this will probably mean cutting back on the late-night television, Skype chats and endless games of Bubbletown. *Sigh* Less than 20 school days to go…

I have a deep passion for the humanities. I love the richness of the English language and the power of words in conveying meaning, emotion and influence. I love to question the world around me philosophically and muse over why humans act the way they do. I draw inspiration from history for reflection on the present. Man alive, do I love the humanities!

So, I guess the natural university degree for me to enrol for would be arts degree, right?

An arts degree… hmm, well, okay, said my mum the other week. Well, Jesse, just consider though that you’ll probably develop, eh, financial goals later on in life and family commitments. Do what you love, by all means, but just remember to keep the big picture in mind with your tertiary studies.

I love my mum, and especially the fact that she is so chilled out about my plans for the future. She only ever delivered these sentiments once, a couple of weeks ago, whereas many other mothers seem to try to manipulate their children’s lives at this end-of-school junction in an incredibly narky and highly-strung manner.

But she was expressing a common view society has about careers in the arts. From the blogosphere, someone else has put this view in somewhat more colourful and blatant terms: ‘It’s a fun-time four years, open to stoners, egocentrics and those that love the sound of their own voice, who will finish the course even more confused at what they want to do in life and probably end up working at a convenience store.’

Ouch! A convenience store? Surely I’d at least get a position in the esteemed and well-paid profession of teaching.

This stigma about arts degrees will need some further consideration in my next blog. What do you think – is the stigma well-deserved?