New Schools

 by Emma Pope

5 years ago, an 11-year-old me considered stepping into a new school to maybe be the scariest thing I’d ever been forced to do. I didn’t particularly want to be there. Being top of a junior school had given me a familiar comfort and a safety net that I relished. Here, I was lost, unknown and everyone seemed to know each other or tower over me, but (much to my despair) my tears did nothing to change the fact I had to go. Looking back, a lot of things in secondary school seem to just blur together into an indistinguishable haze of events that happened at some point, but parts of my first day are still quite clear. 

I remember scrunching myself up against the wall in an empty dining hall, having arrived far too early for most people to even consider being there. I was desperately awaiting the arrival of my only friend who hadn’t gone to another school. Eventually, they arrived - and hugged me so hard I thought they might break my fingers; unbeknownst to me, after that morning, nearly every aspect of my life would change. Despite how convinced I was I’d never fit in and my almost painful shyness, I made friends, I joined clubs and found interests, began jumping at opportunities – I got the chance to grow. There were points where I cried, angry at uncertainty and fearful of ever looming deadlines. 

Midway through Year 10 I realised things weren’t panning out quite how I’d envisioned. Even with unparalleled circumstances, I managed to laugh, celebrated tiny victories and forged memories. By the end of Year 11, when I set foot in that cafeteria for the last time as a pupil, I was undoubtedly unrecognisable from the timid Year 7 who’d entered it for the first time. And just as I cried at the end of Year 6, I cried again - on my last day, at my Prom, as I thanked my teachers for all they’d done, celebrating my results. The time had come for me to say goodbye to my teachers, many of my friends, and the school I’d spent years growing up in. If you’d asked me at the beginning, I’d have said 5 years seems like an eternity, but I know now that in reality it’s nothing. In the end I’d made it, survived secondary school – and I had to ready myself to do it all again, except this time I knew not to be scared.

Two weeks ago, the time came, history seemed to repeat itself as I followed in my younger self’s footsteps, and walked through the gates of a brand-new school: a school that 10 months ago I didn’t think I’d ever attend, in fact, I wouldn’t have ever considered applying without the encouragement and support of my Head of Year. If the last two years have taught me anything, it’s that plans can change, and the fact I made it here is certainly testament to that. This time, I was armed with a few pre-existing friends and vague knowledge acquired at induction events. After 3 blissful months of nearly no obligations, returning to any school was bound to be a shock to my system. Between having to meet new people again and axe-throwing, even the induction events felt wholly different to my normality.

Sixth Form life is inevitably different, I’m now studying just three subjects - ones that I’m actually interested in. The return of homework is admittedly a less exciting prospect. At the very least, I now have study periods and the ability to play my own music to ease the length of my to-do lists. Longer break times have also helped; I can actually eat my lunch and chat with friends without feeling rushed – and it also means a decent amount of time to participate in things. There always seems to be something happening: clubs, societies, talks and other events are constantly occurring. A certain global pandemic inhibited my ability to get involved in most things; my year group was isolated in a bubble, and most events simply didn’t happen. My academic life was certainly impacted, but not being able to participate in trips or fully enjoy my leadership roles was at times just as frustrating. As such, the opportunity to simply do things again, both those built into my curriculum and extra-curricular is one of the things I’m most excited to continue taking part in. 

Part of the oddity is that everything simply feels more grown up; I suddenly have the ability to buy coffee in the cafeteria or leave school during lunch. For people who’ve attended PGS for years, having a device with you to curb paper hoarding may seem second nature for you; it certainly isn’t for me. And things like toilets and water fountains that reliably work, might appear trivial, but, from the outside, they’re things that immediately became apparent. One of the biggest changes for me personally, is after 5 years of being part of the last all-girls Year at my school, suddenly there are boys in my class again. I am undoubtedly an outsider coming into a new environment, I’ve gotten lost half a dozen times and I’m still not quite sure where my locker actually is. Still, I’d like to think I’m getting there, and I’m sure things will become automatic soon enough. As certain as I am that the next two years fly by I hope they become two of the best.