the ATARThis might be the toughest thing I've ever had to write, let alone post on ATARNotes. Nonetheless, it's all a part of the experience.
We left Seoul on an overnight flight Wednesday, and spent the day in Singapore on the Thursday. With another overnight flight into Melbourne, we were truly exhausted. I kept my eye on the time nervously as 7am edged closer and closer.
We were on the Skybus when I decided to open the app. I had my mum's phone in one hand recording my reaction (on recommendation of a ATARNotes user!). I had initially decided to keep it to myself, but put it on my story because my reaction was bland enough to not be embarrassing.
A transcript:
warning: profanityIt's 4:11. No it's not. It's 7:11, and 4:11 Singaporean time. Let's go.
Oh my God.
That's a bit awkward. Yeet. Fuck.
My ATAR…
Oh shit.
Oh… no, no… mmkay.
My ATAR is 97.45. Oh my God.
So… why would that be my scaled fucking aggregate!?* No...
Wait, so I did w– *gasp* what?
As you might have realised, it came as quite a shock.
The first point of interest I have is “my scaled
fucking aggregate”. If you're confused, so am I. What I actually was referring to was the fact that somehow my VET study ended up contributing to my 6 subjects. For those not familiar, an unscored VET creates a study score equivalent by taking your average study score as a 10% increment.
The second point of interest was how “I did w–”
orse in psychology this year than what I did two years ago! Mad. In 2016 I got A+, A, A+ and a 43. This year I got A+, A+, A+ and a 41! I was mortified.
So, two study scores revealed: 41 for psychology, and 43 (4.3) for VET.
The next thing to catch my attention was philosophy. That is, the fact that it was in my top 4. English Language, Japanese, Psychology, Philosophy, UMEP, VET. I was stunned! My chemistry and methods scores were kicked to the curb. A 31 for chemistry
… and, as I had feared…
a 24 for methods.
I cannot begin to express the feeling. It wasn't panic, nor disappointment, nor, well, anything. I just sat back and wondered to myself: what am I going to do?
My study score for chemistry was meh. I barely even gave it a second glance, then or now. I thought it was good enough and since it wasn't in my six – who cares?
On the other hand, my 41 in English Language was a source of frustration. I had honestly thought I would, dare I say, ‘easily’ score over 45.
Overall, most of my thoughts were left unrecorded:
This isn't enough for medicine!
I can't believe I didn't score higher
I shouldn't have underestimated this
The previous dux got 97 as well, right?I text my friends. The digits flow in. 91, 88, 90, 79…
Some are happy. Some are disappointed. Some immediately assess their likely offers. Some slept in.
It was only that morning that I truly thought the ATAR was a cruel thing. “I really wanted a 90,” one of my friends says to me. I knew she did. It sucks that “top 10%” is such a big deal. “My expectations of myself were too high,” says another. It sucks that the score had to be so entwined with ideas of the self. I try my best to console and congratulate.
My friends did the same for me. On Snapchat one messages me, “congrats my little dux!”
Another jokes, “dux for sure. Can't wait to hear your phony speech. “Study hard” when in reality “what homework did we have due today for Lang?””.
I say to them,
“Haha dunno about that.”
A bit later I ask,
“do you knew anyone who got higher?”
“Nope you're the highest.”
“Idk. It's anxiety but meh,” I reply. “Time will tell.”
Later again,
“I’m beginning to think it's not me. I haven't heard anything from the school.”
“Nah, maybe they'll send it later,” she replies.
We return home on the train. Standing under shelter from the rain and waiting for a taxi, my mum's phone happens to ring. It's the school reception. My mum talks to them briefly and hands over the phone. I don't even know who is on the other end of the line.
“How are you feeling?” they ask. I reply that I'm fine. It's obvious in my tone that it wasn't entirely true. “If you can in this weather, could you come to school briefly for a photo?”
Of course I agree, despite being desperate to sleep and having a knot slowly forming in my stomach.
We stand at the taxi rank, waiting and waiting. My mother suddenly remembers we don't have keys. I begin to panic.
I had always dreamed of this moment. Dux of my school, in the newspaper, and done up so nicely. It was slowly becoming obvious that “getting done up” was going to be taxiing to my cousin's place to have a shower and wearing clothes out of my suitcase.
I truly wanted to cry.
We get there, I shower, and put on creased, baggy clothes stinking of oil. There's no time for makeup, so I put on some lipstick in the hope it brings some colour to my face. We rush to school.
As we come through front reception, my Japanese teacher happens to be standing at the door, poised to leave for the day. I almost lose the strength in my knees. This woman is like a mother to me. Maybe someone I want to impress
more than my own mother - a mentor, an inspiration.
She says congratulations to me. I'm on the verge of tears, and vaguely thank her.
“So, did you hear who got dux?”
“Oh, no, I haven't yet…” I reply. I have to look at the ceiling and pretend to laugh as my mum explains that I'm trying not to cry.
“She did all humanities subjects. It was the subject scores. You did well in Japanese, but she did well in everything,” she tells me. I can't even bother to try and think of who it is.
I try my best to finish our conversation.
I search for I'm meant to be. I just make it to where the newspaper photographers are. On my way, I pass the head of math (who barely acknowledged me lmfao) and my favourite teacher, my chemistry teacher. “Congrats on your big score,” he says. I want to kick myself.
As I line up with the other girls who got over ninety, I see one person is positioned in the foreground. With her back to me, I realise it is the dux. I couldn't recognise her but when we disbanded, I finally saw who it was.
I couldn't have been more pleased.
One of the nicest people I know, and a really hard worker in all aspects of life. I love her artwork, and the way she would spot me waiting outside her gym for the bus and chat with me. I felt so ashamed and upset having to find out I wasn't dux from one of the most important people in my life, but I felt a weight lift because I genuinely thought that she truly deserved it.
I stayed back and chatted to the girls who had achieved over 90. I felt a little more contented. Eventually, I decide I should leave. Finally, I thought I could get home and sleep.
We get our keys from a friend who had been looking after our dogs while we were away and head home.
We open the door, and our young pup comes rushing in. But, my mum and I walk out to see our other dog lying in her bed. We try to get her attention but she refuses to move. My mum picks her up to bring her inside. As she places her down on her feet, she slides and lies down. She is panting heavily and rapidly. I say to my mum, “I don't think she can stand.” My mum props her up on her legs and bribes her with treats to have her walk. She stumbles around to and fro, looking a shell of what she was when we left.
My disappointment from my ATAR and my shock from being runner up to our dux was not enough to make me cry all morning.
This time, I began to wail.
Spoiler
I sit with my girl, Ruby, at the front door. She seems to recognise me, but her eyes are glassy. She doesn't seem to be in pain, but her laboured breathing doesn't cease. We had a family member come check on her but two days ago only to be told that she seemed fine. I looked at her and I knew I couldn't let her be in this condition overnight. Me, someone who won't even cry at the Notebook and yet was so upset at the Hachiko movie I threw a phone book across the room.
We called and took Ruby to the vet. The receptionist looks at her and says it's best to take her to triage. We wait in a separate room, faces red and eyes swollen. The veterinary surgeon comes in and tells us that Ruby is in a bad way, that we had two options. One, to investigate what was causing her laboured breathing - warning us that it was most likely untreatable. Two, to put Ruby down. We admitted that we both thought the appointment today had one outcome. The vet agreed that it was probably the best thing to do.
And so I said goodbye to my best friend.
I can't begin to explain. The shock of seeing my slowly ageing dog suddenly deteriorate. The guilt of making her suffer for a whole month alone. The emptiness of our house. My younger dog howling at night.
The only things I can say are that I am truly glad we could see her before she had to go, and that she was at a point that we knew what the only choice was.
Most of all, it put everything into perspective.
I was disappointed and upset at my results, but it was nowhere near the devastation and grief I felt after letting Ruby go.
My ATAR day has quite possibly been the (second) worst day of my entire life. Very dramatic but not an exaggeration.
But in the end, I truly realised what everyone has been telling me this whole time.
In the grand scheme of things,
it's just a number.
P.S. my deepest apologies for the extreme emotion lol. I thought about lightening it up a bit, but I wanted to record my true feeling towards what happened.
Please stay tuned for a more optimistic post soon (19th)!
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Topic: Sarangiya's 사랑하는 VCE Journal (Read 64410 times)