Remember Remembrance Day
Remember ‘Remembrance Day?’
I sat cross-legged on the blotchy carpet, splattered with an abstract painting. My elbow rested on the dent in my knee. My fingers touched the fluffy texture beneath me, tracing the scattered shapes. Beside me, Jenny sat with her legs unfolded, her body was leant back, making her amber hair droop across her shoulders, with her arms propping herself up. Her skin contrasted with the dark orange carpet; her eyes fluttered around the room, where a group of girls sat in chairs filing their perfect walnut nails whilst discussing what colour and shade would most compliment their skin tone. Another group of girls were intensely debating what the latest trend in school would be. The perks of going to an all girls school included how knowledgeable you become by updates you received about the ‘necessities’ of fashion.
In the center of the room was my quirky English teacher – Miss Smith. She was babbling about how it was important to be Australian – our English topic for this term. She reminded me very much of a fairy, physically small but wise. Her feet never seemed like they touched the floor, she practically flew with eagerness on this specific topic as she spoke. Maybe it was because she cared too much – many Australians did. Mate-ship was one of the few aspects she would endlessly chatter about. It was an aspect that was regarded with great significance. Being Australian practically meant there was an expectation of helping others and standing together whilst doing so. Our history revolved around the obliged law shared experience of mate-ship.
The classroom seemed disjointed; there was no focal point in the room. Everyone seemed to be intrigued with something different, their attention was divided. An urgent ring echoed through my reverie. It brought connotations to my mind that it was a message that had significance. Through the cracked speakers, situated at the top right corner of the room, a croaky voice began, “Please excuse this
I sat cross-legged on the blotchy carpet, splattered with an abstract painting. My elbow rested on the dent in my knee. My fingers touched the fluffy texture beneath me, tracing the scattered shapes. Beside me, Jenny sat with her legs unfolded, her body was leant back, making her amber hair droop across her shoulders, with her arms propping herself up. Her skin contrasted with the dark orange carpet; her eyes fluttered around the room, where a group of girls sat in chairs filing their perfect walnut nails whilst discussing what colour and shade would most compliment their skin tone. Another group of girls were intensely debating what the latest trend in school would be. The perks of going to an all girls school included how knowledgeable you become by updates you received about the ‘necessities’ of fashion.
In the center of the room was my quirky English teacher – Miss Smith. She was babbling about how it was important to be Australian – our English topic for this term. She reminded me very much of a fairy, physically small but wise. Her feet never seemed like they touched the floor, she practically flew with eagerness on this specific topic as she spoke. Maybe it was because she cared too much – many Australians did. Mate-ship was one of the few aspects she would endlessly chatter about. It was an aspect that was regarded with great significance. Being Australian practically meant there was an expectation of helping others and standing together whilst doing so. Our history revolved around the obliged law shared experience of mate-ship.
The classroom seemed disjointed; there was no focal point in the room. Everyone seemed to be intrigued with something different, their attention was divided. An urgent ring echoed through my reverie. It brought connotations to my mind that it was a message that had significance. Through the cracked speakers, situated at the top right corner of the room, a croaky voice began, “Please excuse this