Today, is the last day of school. Only half of the class came, which is already better than unnie's class which only has 5 students. In the first four sessions, only our English teacher came. She didn't teach, only marked our papers. There were only a few left and she was done pretty quick. She started to read out the marks and we soon gathered at the table to see our marks, exchange looks with our friends and read the essays of our friends, even thou they refused to let you.
After reading my friends' essays, we found out that the 3rd question (... ...but it was all too late now) is the most popular among our classmates. And, the essays were I think more that 3/4 were connected to "death". We were laughing and we asked our friends "who did you kill?" Answers range from mother, sister, brother, friend... ... I was the one that "killed" my "sister".
I also read back my own essay. Mistakes...Vocabulary... Grammar... Evaluating... problems came out... T_T...
Then I suddenly thought that for the past 2 years (since form 4), I had been writing essays (stories) with sadness or running away, anger....kinda felt creepy... Maybe somewhere inside of me knows that these stories weren't just from my imagination... ...Or maybe I'm just thinking too much and TV series CSI has fused with my brain???
After recess, only Add Maths teacher came. It was so weird because the monitor wasn't there and we greet the teacher: "1,2,3...good morning teacher" He told us that he hadn't even seen the papers when we asked him about the marks. After that, there were no interactions with the teacher. We sat there, sleeping, drawing, reading, talking... I drew with Hem... characters^^ I think there were more than 10 people in the whole A4 paper.
Until the clock struck 12, we went home, talking on the way...
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