I went back to my high school yesterday for Raffles Move and Groove. Why I bothered to go, I'm not entirely certain. My two years in that place - even with the blessing of having found a wonderful person who eventually became my first boyfriend - were not at all happy ones. You see, my school is very academically inclined. That means that most of the teachers merely focus on the grades you're getting rather than on their own teaching/lecturing methodology and how to inspire students to do better. My civics tutor was certainly one such teacher. When I saw him yesterday, I didn't want to talk to him, but politeness and civility (as I am a well-brought-up girl after all) dictated that I ought to at least say hi. So I did. We had a rather awkward conversation for a while before he said, "I don't think I did a very good job with your batch." "No s***, Sherlock," I thought, but of course, didn't say. "Why is that?" I said. "Because your batch had a low rate of A's," was the reply.

Is that what teachers really think? That their success rate should be measured by the number of A's that their students get? What about the kind of person that your pupils become? Wouldn't a teacher be happier knowing that even though someone they taught underachieved and didn't manage to get the A the teacher so wanted them to get, that at least the student then went on to make something of himself? Getting a scholarship isn't the only sign of success, no matter how much we've been trained to think like that.

And that, in a nutshell, sums up part of why I hated my time in high school. If you were to ask me to donate money to my secondary school or my university, I would - gladly. But my high school? I'm sorry. I have far too many unhappy memories of the place. Of course, my friends never knew. I'm a well-adjusted, tough, responsible girl. I can cope - without having anyone know how much I was suffering in that damn place.

But anyway, yesterday was, fortunately, a happy occasion. I met up with old friends and managed to attract a great deal of attention because I was walking around in a beautiful Phuture mini-skirt that somehow had the same colour scheme as my old school. Yes, I managed to look not like the working professional that I've been for the past 21 months, but instead, like a cheerleader fresh out of school. And, not meaning to sound arrogant or anything, but I did look good. Heh.