Somehow, I’ve found myself in the situation where I am the only Sixth Former on my school bus. For 25 minutes at a time, twice a day, I am completely surrounded by small people who irritate me. Or the year 11s, big people who irritate me.
There are obvious disadvantages to this situation. The obvious one is that I have no one to talk to (if there were any other year 12s on the bus, I would probably not talk to them. But it’s nice to know I have the option). I am a big fan of conversation, as it facilitates two of my favourite things; finding out new stuff and complaining about stuff. In an ideal world, I find out stuff which I can then complain about. I can do neither on my own, and it’s nice to at least have the illusion that someone’s listening.
The other disadvantage to being on my own is that it plays into one of my pet hates, overhearing stupid conversations. You’d think that a bus full of people who’d passed the 11+ would lead to some intellectual conversations, discussing the elusive Higgs Bosom particle and pondering the new French president’s left-wing economic stance. The reality could hardly be further away. In the last week I have heard:
“Can you see gravity?”
“I wonder if Twilight is more famous than the Bible yet”
“Your mum’s so fat that you have two dads”
(This one in particular blows my mind)
It’s been pretty much a year now, so I’ve got used to it, and there is a flip side. Being the only year 12 on the bus means that there’s no one there to judge me, or at least no one whose opinion matters to me. For 50 minutes a day, I can just do what I like and be weird. I can rap along to Jason Mraz and hum when it gets to the chorus and no one cares. I can daydream and stare out the window and no one cares. And I reckon that everybody needs time where no one judges them. Everybody needs time to be a weirdo. And every bus needs a weirdo.
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