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Ed
is 14, lives in Cam with his mum Jenny and 10-year-old sister Caroline
and goes to Rednock School.
Early
morning
That dreaded sound. The one that, from every bedside table from
across the country, arouses a gut-wrenching tiredness with but one
AA battery: the alarm.
Its
incessant beeping chirrups into the chill air of my small bedroom.
It is cold because my radiator does not work owing to some dodgy
plumbing, and my alarm is beeping five minutes earlier than the
day before because I was, again, late.
This
initiative was thought of in a rush at around 10.30 last night,
a time when many ideas seem good. Now, at precisely 6:26am it does
not.
I'm
awake enough to be pleased with my grunt: it fully conveyed
anything I could have possibly wanted to say...
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| Ed
Leighton |
Groggily
I swing an arm over to the approximate location of the clock, and
miss. Another swing dislodges the torch. The third, however, makes
contact and with a satisfying click the beeping stops. Bliss.
Twenty
minutes later Mum yells up the stairs.
"Are you up?"
Sleepily my eyes open. I manage a non-committal grunt.
"ARE you up?"
Another grunt. Now I'm awake enough to be pleased with my grunt:
it fully conveyed anything I could have possibly wanted to say.
I roll
off my bed anyway, and the draught washes around my feet. I stagger
half-heartedly to the bathroom with my uniform, exchange pleasantries
with my sister (more grunting), and then I shut the door.
I turn
on the radio. It can only pick up four stations: Radio 4 (too deep
for 7 am), classic FM (see before) and the other two it plays simultaneously.
Not that it mattered as they are both playing R&B. I flick it back
off and start the routine washing, cleaning, showering, deodorising
and sanitising that normally happens and throw on the uniform.
Downstairs,
now worrying about the gel in my hair and the homework I need to
hand in and which I haven't, technically speaking, done.
Off
to school
A slice of toast, a hurried bag-packing session and then into the
car. I seem to spend a lot of my time in this car, rushing here
and there or getting dropped off by Mum. Not as much of that though,
now I walk or get the bus more often than not.
Journey:
instructions for the day from Mum. My mind is back in bed after
its cold shower (more dodgy plumbing) but my body seems to be managing
fine on its own.
Dropped
off at my friend's, a polite grunt goodbye and I walk up the drive.
I heard somewhere that teenagers need more sleep because they use
more energy growing in the day. Even if it's not true then it's
still a good excuse for the grunting.
Parents can't seem to understand that with our music the perfect
volume is at the precise level between being able to hear the
base guitar as clearly as the lead and when the ornaments start
falling off the shelves. |
| Ed
Leighton |
Grunts
exchanged with friend as we watch the TV for a good five minutes
to adjust to the real world again. One of us starts a CD and we
listen to whatever it is. Usually rock.
Parents
can't seem to understand that with our music the perfect volume
is at the precise level between being able to hear the base guitar
as clearly as the lead and when the ornaments start falling off
the shelves.
We
walk to school. Conversation has evolved from grunting through to
monosyllabic and homework stages and we talk about what was on TV
last night. We spend five minutes trying to remember what "Simpsons"
episode was on, another two debating which of the five answers we
produced were correct and the remainder recounting the funniest
moments.
We
walk in to school. We separate soon after as my friend goes into
the three-storey block and up to his tutor room and I walk towards
mine in Technology.
I always
pass my girlfriend's group on the way, say hello. With any luck
my level of conversation has reached a level past grunting (today
it has) because otherwise I'm in for a rough day. A brief conversation
and then I'm off again.
Tutor
time
I swing my bag off my shoulder and drop it with a thud into a small
pool of water under the impermeable hand towel.
There
are already a couple of other bags sloshing around there, and I
look up to see another friendly face. The face says hello and after
the effort of the last conversation I can only manage one syllable.
The face (thankfully) understands.
My
tutor reads the register and then gives out the notices he was meant
to announce two days before, and forgets the ones handed to him
this morning.
Depending
on the day, tutor time is either spent chatting about cars with
the friendly face (who happens to know more than Jeremy Clarkson
about them) or doing the homework due in 15 minutes' time.
Lessons
The bell goes. Everyone marches resignedly back into the autumn
air. Then follows the day's first two periods. A short break, then
the next four. Lunch. Two more (four on Wednesdays) and then home.
As
this is Year 10, I chose some of my subjects at the end of last
year. Me and a few friends ended up doing 13½ GCSEs, though how
we have no idea. However, I like most of my subjects (having dropped
French) but especially English and Music.
Music
is a big part of my life. I play the piano and saxophone (both of
which have lessons and in theory nightly practice) and I play in
a school orchestra, swing band, jazz band and an orchestra on Saturday
mornings, on top of two music doubles and an extra theory lesson.
I play
tennis and badminton outside school, and then attempt to fit in
homework and coursework. Six days a week on the go: but I wouldn't
change it. I love the pace, the problems that need to be solved,
the challenges that need to be hit full on. But it makes you appreciate
the breaks you can get.
Lunch
time
FOOD! Meals hold my day together. I think of the day as slots between
meals. I probably eat too much, but it doesn't stop me.
One of the big issues for us is security guards. They way they
will persistently look at any teenager in HMV, or follow you
round the DVDs in WHSmith. They may have their reasons, but
it's still annoying. We often rant about them. |
| Ed
Leighton |
After
the first six periods of the day, we are all a little bitter with
the world at lunchtime. Light-heartedly so, but there are sinister
mutterings a-plenty. The subject varies. Parents are a common one,
exams another. World peace, however, is not.
It's
just the way it is. Because teenagers' opinions aren't listened
to or even asked for, they aren't known.
One
of the big issues for us, though, is security guards. They way they
will persistently look at any teenager in HMV, or follow you round
the DVDs in WHSmith. They may have their reasons, but it's still
annoying. We often rant about them. Two more lessons, then home.
Evening
Might kick a football with some mates, might go out with my girlfriend.
Probably will do some homework at some point.
Music,
sport, TV, sleep in any combination or order fill in the gaps. Might
ring anyone who I didn't see after school for half an hour, might
even go on the computer, you never know.
I put
on a CD in my room, something calm. It's probably about 10pm.
I have
an idea. I think I'll set my clock a few minutes earlier - I was
late this morning . . .
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