The Expected Post

Yes I know, it’s the post everyone’s expecting every 12th grader with a blog to write. The End of School post.

There’s so much to say. So much emotion just bottled up inside because I don’t know what to say and how to say it. I don’t know what’s the right way to say farewell. What’s the right way to accept that we’re moving on.

After 14 long years, of waking up daily at 6:00am to either my mum shouting or my alarm clock, to the bus honking outside the door waiting for me even though I was way over my assigned pick-up time. 
To the endless conversations and sarcastic comments in the bus. To the getting our phones to listen to music even though it was against the rule. To the bonding with both seniors and juniors in a way it wouldn’t have been possible without the bus.

To the long boring classes to which we’d yawn. To the continuous looking at the watch/clock to see how many minutes left. To the ecstatic feeling when the bell rang and we’d jump up and say “GOOOOOOD MORNING AND THANKYOU MA’AM/SIR”
To the begging the teacher to take us for PE. To the joy we’d feel when a substitute teacher would walk in. To the sitting in a circle while stories were told, conversations exchanged. 
To the sitting in the clinic pretending to have a headache just to avoid the submission of an assignment.

To the weekly aerobics sessions we’d have every morning. To the bunking of Afternoon Sessions to sit and chill. Sometimes getting away with it and sometimes getting caught. 
To the special event-days where we’d roam around school because of no classes. To the joy of coming to school in casuals on the birthday, only to have your chocolates snatched away before half the day was over. To the birthday bumps and the hitting on the head each time someone would get a haircut. 
To the messing with the projector so the teacher couldn’t teach. To the making so much noise that the supervisor had to be called.

To those days when the results would be given back to us. To the happiness and the sadness of scoring poorly and well. 
To the hours spent collecting 50 fils and 1 Dirham from random folks just to buy something from the canteen. To the lunch sessions where the house tables / divisions was our worst enemy. To the occasionally eating school lunch desire being home lunch and running after the server for ice cream. To the school trips. To the morning assemblies. To skipping some morning assemblies. 


To the end of each day when we’d pack our bags, and eagerly wait as the final bell would ring, and we’d be on our way home.

It’s been a hell of a journey. With changes all along the way. With tears, of both happiness and joy. With friendship, competition, a little jealousy and ego too.
It’s truly been my second home. It’s been there for me despite all that could happen. Nurtured me. Seen me grow.

To the teachers, the support and administrative staff.

To the juniors, across all grades.

To the peers, who’ve supported us, tolerated us, and loved us. 

To the memories, good and bad.
To Dubai Modern High School. 


Once a Modernite, always a Modernite. Always and Forever.
"Lead Kindly Light". "Excellentia"