French listening and Maths paper 1
Jun. 4th, 2003 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenI couldn't sleep last night, therefore was more tired than tired this morning, therefore went into school in a daze. Pedar offered to give me a lift, as he does most Wednesdays, which meant I had to listen to Radio Five. Consequently, Pedar and I both heard them reading out the winner of the British bid at European City of Culture, 2008.
It was Liverpool.
There are so many reasons for my disbelief I'm only going to go through a few, but Liverpool does not instantly come to mind when culture is mentioned, ne? It was the poorest city in Europe until not so long ago, it's full of scallies, and a few years ago, some artist or other was asked to create a sculpture to represent the people of Liverpool. For those who have never seen the Lambanana (sp?), it resemebles nothing so much as the front half of a lamb stuck to the back half of a banana, blown up until it's ten metres tall and sprayed yellow. It represents the people of Liverpool perfectly, inasmuch as its ridiculous and provokes mirth. And just to put the crowning touch on it, it moves. Every year, they relocate it so even more people can enjoy it. Oy.
This is not to say I'm not pleased. I am pleased. I'm especially pleased for my mother, who has had the city council on her tail for months, getting her to have "European city of culture" translated into dozens of different languages. There were other slogans too, but the most irritating one (for her, at least) was "Liverpool's learning." Apparently English is the only language in which this sentiment can be elegantly expressed. Once translated into Hindi, it came out as "Liverpool is in the process of being educated" and the other languages weren't much better.
But I digress.
I got into school entirely too early, flipped on all the lights and went to sleep on one of the desks. This only lasted twenty minutes until Becca, Mrs Doyle and Ella all came in at once. I had to wake up and think about French, and Helena amused herself by firing off random words and phrases at me, some of which I could translate, most of which I couldn't, and after a while we had to go to CL2, because it made so much sense to do a French listening GCSE in a Classics room.
The exam was... well, tricky. Make that difficult. I need to get eight points from it, but I'll probably only get seven, and I'm annoyed. It was really very demanding and I made up the whole of the English section, because I couldn't understand a damn thing. Apparently they lower the grade boundaries if everyone does badly, but I don't expect that will happen.
Lunch was amusing because of Bev's attempts to recite the names of the member nations of the EU, and because of Helena's presence. She was panicking about her Maths. I was, too, but in a less obvious manner. She was so scared because, well, her mother is a lot like mine. She started talking about the one practice paper she and I did together (we both got 92% percent, highest ever) and I wondered vaguely if we could do the exam together if we could prove we'd stay near each other for the rest of our lives, but I never got beyond wondering about it because she announce she felt sick and couldn't eat another thing. I didn't blame her (our blessed entrée was supposed to be "pasta bake" but resembled reddish ditchwater) but I ate her pie. It seemed like the thing to do.
The Maths paper itself was far from heartening. To be honest, it was awful, horrible, dire, disastrous, distressing, etc, etc. To start with, the room was warm, and I could hear the rain falling outside, and I'd had no sleep, and I was actually quite comfortable, so I just went to sleep. I don't know if it would have helped if I'd been awake, because while I did the paper, there was so much of it I couldn't do. I made random guesses because I couldn't cope. The time slipped away so slowly, and a few weird things happened (Mrs Myring was moderating barefoot) but it was just not a success. Afterwards, I found that everyone who did Intermediate thought it was a breeze. Everyone who did Higher was throwing fits. Helena wasn't in a particularly rational mood. She's stressed about this question, and that question, and while I was, too, I'm more annoyed about what my final grade will be. My coursework was crappy, and if this is crappy too, I may slip out of the A grade boundaries. An A is bad enough, but I was getting used to the idea. A B will not do wonders for my state of mind, but I can but wait and see. August 21st, day of reckoning and all that.
I came home in a dream, realised I'd forgotten my coat and got drenched. Ironically enough, I was listening to English Summer Rain.
It was Liverpool.
There are so many reasons for my disbelief I'm only going to go through a few, but Liverpool does not instantly come to mind when culture is mentioned, ne? It was the poorest city in Europe until not so long ago, it's full of scallies, and a few years ago, some artist or other was asked to create a sculpture to represent the people of Liverpool. For those who have never seen the Lambanana (sp?), it resemebles nothing so much as the front half of a lamb stuck to the back half of a banana, blown up until it's ten metres tall and sprayed yellow. It represents the people of Liverpool perfectly, inasmuch as its ridiculous and provokes mirth. And just to put the crowning touch on it, it moves. Every year, they relocate it so even more people can enjoy it. Oy.
This is not to say I'm not pleased. I am pleased. I'm especially pleased for my mother, who has had the city council on her tail for months, getting her to have "European city of culture" translated into dozens of different languages. There were other slogans too, but the most irritating one (for her, at least) was "Liverpool's learning." Apparently English is the only language in which this sentiment can be elegantly expressed. Once translated into Hindi, it came out as "Liverpool is in the process of being educated" and the other languages weren't much better.
But I digress.
I got into school entirely too early, flipped on all the lights and went to sleep on one of the desks. This only lasted twenty minutes until Becca, Mrs Doyle and Ella all came in at once. I had to wake up and think about French, and Helena amused herself by firing off random words and phrases at me, some of which I could translate, most of which I couldn't, and after a while we had to go to CL2, because it made so much sense to do a French listening GCSE in a Classics room.
The exam was... well, tricky. Make that difficult. I need to get eight points from it, but I'll probably only get seven, and I'm annoyed. It was really very demanding and I made up the whole of the English section, because I couldn't understand a damn thing. Apparently they lower the grade boundaries if everyone does badly, but I don't expect that will happen.
Lunch was amusing because of Bev's attempts to recite the names of the member nations of the EU, and because of Helena's presence. She was panicking about her Maths. I was, too, but in a less obvious manner. She was so scared because, well, her mother is a lot like mine. She started talking about the one practice paper she and I did together (we both got 92% percent, highest ever) and I wondered vaguely if we could do the exam together if we could prove we'd stay near each other for the rest of our lives, but I never got beyond wondering about it because she announce she felt sick and couldn't eat another thing. I didn't blame her (our blessed entrée was supposed to be "pasta bake" but resembled reddish ditchwater) but I ate her pie. It seemed like the thing to do.
The Maths paper itself was far from heartening. To be honest, it was awful, horrible, dire, disastrous, distressing, etc, etc. To start with, the room was warm, and I could hear the rain falling outside, and I'd had no sleep, and I was actually quite comfortable, so I just went to sleep. I don't know if it would have helped if I'd been awake, because while I did the paper, there was so much of it I couldn't do. I made random guesses because I couldn't cope. The time slipped away so slowly, and a few weird things happened (Mrs Myring was moderating barefoot) but it was just not a success. Afterwards, I found that everyone who did Intermediate thought it was a breeze. Everyone who did Higher was throwing fits. Helena wasn't in a particularly rational mood. She's stressed about this question, and that question, and while I was, too, I'm more annoyed about what my final grade will be. My coursework was crappy, and if this is crappy too, I may slip out of the A grade boundaries. An A is bad enough, but I was getting used to the idea. A B will not do wonders for my state of mind, but I can but wait and see. August 21st, day of reckoning and all that.
I came home in a dream, realised I'd forgotten my coat and got drenched. Ironically enough, I was listening to English Summer Rain.
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no subject
on 2003-06-04 09:27 am (UTC)Mum went into shock also. ;)
...it's full of scallies
And don't we know it? They're evil! There's almost as many scallies in Birkenhead, skiving school... luckily they don't seem to collectively have enough braincells to venture into Waterstones, where Clare and I spent almost 2 hours drinking one drink and scaring everyone else by talking about maths.
It represents the people of Liverpool perfectly, inasmuch as its ridiculous and provokes mirth. And just to put the crowning touch on it, it moves. Every year, they relocate it so even more people can enjoy it. Oy.
{Sniggers} True, so true. Is it still somewhere near the seafront near the yellow submarine?
I had to wake up and think about French,
Same here. And then one girl decided to be late (again!) and we had to sit there in silence waiting for her to arrive (15 minutes after the exam was supposed to have started), and Mrs. Rogers, Clare and Hannah's french teacher started telling jokes in French.
I need to get eight points from it, but I'll probably only get seven, and I'm annoyed.
Same here, but I don't think I managed it. At least it wasn't as hard as the practice one we did the other week...
To be honest, it was awful, horrible, dire, disastrous, distressing, etc, etc.
I actually found it easier than the practice papers, though I know I fucked up the entire back page, and I may have just written a load of bollocks everywhere else.
August 21st, day of reckoning and all that.
The day that'll ruin my holiday... ;)
That day is going to be really, really, really horrible.
Do you have English tomorrow too?
Re:
on 2003-06-04 09:35 am (UTC)French jokes? I only know one, which I will not repeat. And I knew you'd find the maths easy. As you can see, I did not. It was not good. And neither was the French.
Yes, it's English for me tomorrow, but no afternoon exam, thank God. I just want this English exam over with - I like the second one, I usually really enjoy it, but media is not so good.
Which brings me nicely to results. They are so, so, not not good I have no words unless I repeat myself. Sometimes I think I'm looking forward to it all being over - and then I think of August 21st, and realise it's not over, not at all.
no subject
on 2003-06-04 09:52 am (UTC)Re:
on 2003-06-04 09:56 am (UTC)However, we are missing the point. You're coming to England? How come?
no subject
on 2003-06-04 10:07 am (UTC)no subject
on 2003-06-04 10:00 am (UTC)no subject
on 2003-06-04 11:02 am (UTC)This is so scarily true. Intermediate was... do-able. Which is scary. (My normal approach to a maths paper is to stare at it, not understand anything, write down random numbers for an hour then sleep for an hour) And I did it, and I think I may have a B. El gasp.
But, on the subjeft of higher, we actually had various people who spent a lot of the exam hitting thier heads against the table, before ranting afterwards.
You have my sympathy.
And you'll still get a A.
no subject
on 2003-06-04 11:28 am (UTC)Re:
on 2003-06-04 11:31 am (UTC)I want to get all As and A*s, which I think I am capable of, but I did expect an A* for maths, which makes today's debacle slightly aggravating. I've no doubt I'll get used to it.
The national average for GCSE grades is a D... :)
no subject
on 2003-06-04 12:15 pm (UTC)