Boiling pot brains,
how you toil yourselves!
Watchword, between thinking I count the fingers grow on my days,
and delight in grass children, do watch them flourish
as they tilt their heads to the sun;
yet you, hardly ceasing to breathe,
are engaged solely in the catching of thoughts,
tangled in your grey meat traps -
I doff my scalp to thee, and hope the exposure not indecent.
Jealous stealing tinkerers, all moonshine thoughts pour from your heads,
but burn brightest when others see;
for you, they lack lustre, and their afterbirth is sorrow.
Wherefore this morass, of such inferior superiors?
Mired in a fen, penned in a bog, lost widely across this wide and subtle expanse
of timed living and free-hand writing,
you are so very fig.
Loligag, I wonder - art thou wiser
than I, poor sprout of gibber wishes,
drinker of tea and lemons beneath a tree’s spread,
whiles you bury in pulp and chew on words,
I have friends and acquaintances who are engaged in the IB, the international baccalaureate, a wide cross-disciplinary alternative to A-level. I attend a grammar school, but these people all amaze me with their tenacity and devotion to study; at the same time, I am astounded by the unhealthy, high-pressure atmosphere that seems to surround them. I remember being told that "you'll have a day or two when you don't do any work, and you'll feel so guilty for it". I know of one girl who is taking time off as a result fo stress related illness after the third day back. What's worse is that whilst they are undertaking a course more difficult than the current A-level, the grades that they will be asked for for an offer at an older university ar not correspondingly easier. This has the backlash that several amongst them, despite being at least as intelligent as the best of the best in my sixth form, are in serious doubt as to whether they will successfully apply to Oxbridge - not because they will be unappealing students, but because they might literally not "make the grade" of the offer. So, a nonsense tribute to them.
IB! Yay! Haha one of the major failings of the IB student is that they think universitys care. Well, it's almost over, and it was fun.
And once you're in uni, believe me, no-one gives a damn what you did, A-level, IB or otherwise. Shame, really.
Students, totally. People mention them on occasion, but usually in the context of "Your offer was what?! Oh, you're a science student... no wonder.". People talk about the teaching and the college of course, but not the grades.
is this the students, or the teachers?? With the students, I always imagined the IBers being a sort of elitist posh club.
A: you did IB? sweet! bff!!
A: you did IB? sweet! bff!!
well, we IBists are proud masochists.
cynical funny and cool
Amazing responce to and equal situation.