Once a first bencher, always a first bencher!

As promised in my last blog "M for phobia" here is how me and my friends became the designated first benchers in our first year of pre-university course.

Having lived 10 years of our life by the rule-book, abiding teachers, following discipline and being the goody-goodys of school, like most teenagers even we had thought we'll at last taste some freedom, there won't be any more uniforms, class prefects, assemblies, bells announcing the school hours or punishments for missing a class.

But let me clear our intentions here. We had no desire to go wayward or stir up any storms, just simple and safe liberties that will give us the ecstacy of quitting the title of "school-girls". One such liberty we looked forward to was taking whichever bench we preferred, for we were really tired of being allotted seats in class by our class-teacher through out the school years.

But it was not meant to be! The first we attended, most of the classmates had already arrived and taken the benches of their choice (leaving the first three empty). We didn't think much about it and as we were 6 in all, we occupied the second and third row, as the last few benches were very distant from the lecturer's podium, and we were not sure if we would be able to hear them.

The day went well, except for the little disappointment that nobody felt like changing seats throughout the day. But it happened the same way the next day and for days following it. Even the lecturers started recognising us as the front benchers.

It wasn't a big deal, but we only wanted to break free from the dull routine. We even tried going early and taking other seats before others arrived but their usual occupants always fought their place back. They said it was the perfect spot for them and they either didn't want to be noticed by the lecturer, or be bored by their lecture, or had important gossip to share which couldn't wait and obviously impossible to be done right under the lecturer's nose.

We even offered sweetly the front benches to few other sweet types, but no! They were too nervous to sit there and be noticed by the lecturer so easily. Their chosen spots were their perfect hiding spots!

Thus, by choice, by force, happily and unhappily we became the "designated" and "perpetual" first benchers of our first year pre-university course.

Smiling along the miles

Having had such a friendly reaction from my neighbours (read My friendly neighbours to know), I was rather motivated to be all the more friendly to her. Here's another fictionalised account of my endeavours and their outcome:

I smiled at my neighbour,
Everytime I found her near;
In her garden, at the store,
At the crossroad, or her door.

At first she rechecked whether
It wasn't  one of her silly dreams;
Then as always gave me a glare,
That were her silent screams.

I still pursued her with my smiles,
For I believed good will result from my tries;
I smiled when she glared at me,
I smiled even if she gave me a sigh.

I smiled at her warmly
When she won at a game;
I gave her a smile so soft
When a trouble made her lame.

Then like sunshine
My smile broke the ice betwixt;
It struck a chord in her heart,
And she smiled at me so very sweet!

I, tortoise

There is this fun online quiz I once took as to what animal am I. It might sound weird or silly, but the purpose of the quiz was to emphasise the basic traits of the animal in our attitude from the answers we pick, thus metaphorically making us the animal.

I got "polecat" as my result, though I hardly agree with it. As far as I know, polecat and me are poles apart!

The other day, in the intro to my blog on Judy's challenges (tests of friendship) at facebook, I called myself the proverbial tortoise. Later on, recalling it I realised how true it actually was.

Like the tortoise, I'm usually slow and cautious in my approach and carry my nutshell on my back. I little something disturbs me, I snap shut myself into it and make it seem as if I'm not there at all.

And if I'm provoked too far, I can be cruel and my retort hurt like the tortoise's bite.

My family and friends often I talk ancient wisdom (though they don't always appreciate it).

And like the proverbial tortoise, I persevere long and hard. If I have made up my mind or if I think it is important to be done, I go head long into it. I must either succeed or lose even the last ray of hope, but see it to the end I must.

So, what animal am I?
I am the Tortoise.