Tag: sadness

#oneaday Day 436: RIP my sixth form

When I originally went to secondary school, my school was known for having a good sixth form. For those unfamiliar (i.e. not British, I suspect), a sixth form is where you go for "further education" (as opposed to "higher education", which is university) after your compulsory 11 years of school in the UK. It's called sixth form as a hangover from the old method of numbering school years, where primary education didn't really have a fixed method of distinguishing year groups beyond "infants" and "juniors", and then secondary education from 11 onwards started at "first form" all the way up to "fifth form". Today, primary education starts at Reception, then goes from Y1 to Y11 as one continuous run from primary to secondary, with most secondary schools starting with Y7. While some people do refer to sixth form as "Y12 and Y13", the term "sixth form" has, for one reason or another, stuck.

Anyway, none of that is the point. The point is, my school used to be known for having good sixth form provision. It's one of the reasons I went there, as I was a bright child and it was probably a given that I was always going to stay on into post-compulsory education, and indeed I did — two years of sixth form, then four years at university. I was fortunate enough to be in a year group that was the first to take advantage of a brand new sixth form centre built (well, adapted from the former upper school dining hall) on the premises, and it was a really lovely facility. I had a wonderful time there; I enjoyed my studies, I made and solidified a number of friendships, and, as I've remarked a number of times in this blog, I think I count those two years as possibly the happiest, most content of my life.

Every so often, I like to check in on my old school. No real reason, I'm always just curious how it's doing. It never was an amazing school, outside of the sixth form provision, and it's certainly had its challenges over the years. What I was rather surprised to see when I took a Google Street View down to the premises was this:

(Pixelations are mine; I just don't want randos looking up my old school for whatever reason.)

I saw those doors and thought, hang on. That doesn't look right. That building used to be the pride and joy of the school campus, so why haven't they painted the doors for what looks like several decades at this point?

It's because, it seems, the sixth form that was once one of the best things about that school is no more — and, in fact, it has not been a thing since 2015. (The photo above was taken in 2016, which just goes to show how frighteningly quickly a building can start looking dilapidated and shitty.) I found this out from looking at the school's Wikipedia page — I was surprised to discover it even had a Wikipedia page — but there it was, the cold, hard facts. I followed the links to see the news and yes, it seems it's true; the "Post-16 Centre" where I had such amazing, wonderful memories, is no more.

Now, I suspect the school today has made use of this building rather than just leaving it there; there's no way for me to know short of actually going to visit it, and I haven't been there in person for probably more than 30 years at this point. I see from its prospectus and willingness to book out its various large "venues" to the community — something the school had always done, making it a true "community school" — that it has a "performing arts space" that may or may not make use of that old space. Hard to tell, really.

Regardless, I feel a bit sad about this. That sixth form centre opened with such positivity and excitement for the future, and it was genuinely exciting to be part of it. The facilities were good, there were comfortable common areas to relax and socialise, and we felt proud to be part of something new and wonderful. I was surprised and saddened to see that the dream for that space apparently hadn't lasted; the school now has no sixth form provision of its own at all, instead collaborating with another local school (a longstanding "rival" back when I was there, but now part of the same "educational partnership", whatever that means) to provide sixth form provision for both schools' students.

I don't know if all this is because sixth form numbers were on the decline, or the building wasn't cost-effective, or whatever. All I do know is that it's a shame, and I feel a bit sad. You really can't go back, but at least you always have those precious memories, I guess.

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#oneaday Day 770: February Blues

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It's a long-held tradition in my family that the month of February is the best time to get really depressed and despondent about nothing in particular. I say "tradition". It just seems to sort of happen sometimes, and as someone who struggles with depression at the best of times, I'm certainly not exempt from the February Blues.

I thought this year that I'd got away with it. It is, after all, almost the end of February and here I am having been feeling reasonably positive about things recently. I'm working, I'm enjoying it, I'm living in a place I like with a person I love and generally, things are pretty hunky-dory, whatever that means.

The last couple of days have seen a marked downturn in my mood, however. I'm not sure if it's the weather, the fact it's still getting dark quite early, the fact I'm tired, the fact I'm not sure if I'm ill or just have a bit more flatulence than usual — basically, though, something's got my goat and is jiggling it around furiously, refusing to let go. (Note: "goat" in this instance is not being used to refer to my penis. The grabbing of that, refusing to let go and jiggling around is normally quite pleasurable, but that's a topic best saved for another blog altogether.)

This is the frustrating thing about depression, particularly seasonally-affected depression, which is what I assume the "February Blues" are all about. There isn't always a reason for it. Sometimes you just wake up of a morning, consider getting out of bed and realise that no, there's not really anything exciting out there and it's actually quite warm under the duvet and wouldn't it be nice if you just closed your eyes again for a couple of minutes and relaxed and shit it's midday and so on.

The above-described is also laziness, lethargy or whatever you want to call it, but it can be brought on by an irrational black mood. Sometimes the world is just inherently unsatisfying, leaving you wondering if there's something better you could be doing, some greater purpose to your life.

Inevitably, the answer to those questions is "no", so after a while you settle back into a nice comfortable routine of doing what you do and finding the whole thing perfectly satisfactory.

Sometimes asking those questions spurs you on to do other things, though. It's from feeling bleak and wanting a convenient outlet that I started posting these daily blog entries after all, and now I feel they're a big part of "me". It's just habit now, but when I casually mention to someone that I've written a blog post of varying quality every day for the last 770 days, they usually seem quite impressed. Most of them, too, are kind enough not to mention that if I hadn't been wasting my time writing nonsense like this every day, I could have probably churned out a ton of novels by now. (I know this. Shush.)

Similarly, it's from feelings of bleakness and blackness that I have started on exercise journeys several times — though at the times of the bleakest blackness it's sometimes difficult to motivate oneself to proceed. (This is where a structured, scheduled programme like Couch to 5K comes into its own, as you then have feelings of guilt to contend with if you miss a session. Guilt is a powerful motivational factor, particularly if it doesn't hurt anyone but yourself.)

Will these feelings spur me on to do anything this time around? I don't know. I have a few irons that are not-quite-in-the-fire-but-at-least-somewhere-near-the-fire right now that I might give a poke from tomorrow. As previously mentioned, I'm running through Couch to 5K again. I'm still blogging. And I'm making sure to take the time to talk to friends both online and off.

February's nearly over. And when it departs, may the colour come back to the lives of any of those of you who have been afflicted with a surfeit of blue.