Student Writing Feature 

A Day in the Life of a Year 8 Student

By Grace Kiosoglous, Year 8 

Today is a new day.

Similar to the last, but so different.

Like an unfinished blueprint, the basic ideas have been laid out.

But the opportunities, the obstacles, the intricate details, they are yet to be found. Yet to be known.

This year is a new year.

There’s still so much to come.

This day, it’s one in 365.

One in 365 glorious days of being a Year 8.

Though it may seem insignificant, it is just as important as any other.

For life is a staircase, and each step brings us up in our journey to the top.

If we disregard one stair, we fall.

But so long as we brush ourselves off and continue on our way, we will get through just fine.

That’s what life is truly about.

Year 8 has its good parts and bad parts.

Some days you’re bursting with energy and smiling inside and out.

Other days feel like there is a storm cloud eerily levitating above your head, about to release lightning.

Emotions will pass and shift into new emotions, new feelings.

As we carry on through the year, this is how we grow.

We may think that life isn’t fair.

Or maybe that the world seems against us.

But remember that nothing lasts forever, and soon the sun will appear from behind the storm clouds.

Year 8 only happens once.

For some, it’s already gone.

For others, it’s yet to come.

For us, it’s happening right here.

Right now.

If we never dare to open our eyes,

Then it will be gone before we even glimpsed it.

So we must take in this very moment,

And make the best of it.

For in this moment we are the Year 8s.

My First Day of Senior School

By Damon Diamantopoulos, Year 7

I jolted out of sleep; the rambunctious blaring of the alarm, louder than a police siren. I moaned uneasily and forced myself to awaken, fighting through the crippling agony of sleep deprivation. Today was it. The first day... the first unavoidable, sickening day, one of many to come.

The engine wheezed and coughed as I was driven to School, I could hear the wheels turning on the warm asphalt. My mother questioned, 'are you excited about your first day of school?'

'Sure, whatever...' I mumbled inattentively.

The car decelerated to a halt. I saw them in front of me … hundreds of children, with grim expressions glued onto their faces, stumbling around aimlessly. I edged in, as nervous as a small fish in a tank full of sharks.

As I walked into the hall, a voice echoed through the building, 'Good morning students, welcome to Kilvington Grammar School. Please find your class on the billboard with sheets attached.'

I froze.

Class.

Anxiety engulfed me, swallowing up my every thought. I felt extremely agitated, wondering whether I would be placed with my friends or complete strangers.

I approached the sheets of paper slowly to see my allocated class. When I saw I was being placed with my previous peers, I felt my anxiety melting. 

I waddled to my classroom, which was quite a difficult task; a main contributing factor  the absurd number of books I had to carry to each class. Only two, to be exact, although when you are carrying a heavy laptop and an iPad it can seem like twenty.

After I hiked through the densely populated corridors and into my classroom, I got handed my planner.

'Class remember, your planners must be signed each week.'

I gasped! With memory worse than a dead goldfish, it was practically impossible for me to even remember to sign my planner one week, let alone every week!

'You will also be expected to record any tests or homework.'

I felt freezing shards of fear trickle down my throat…

Tests.

Homework…

I felt jitters of panic shooting down my spine. I couldn’t hear a single word over the cacophonic stampede of thoughts.

'Class, you are now permitted to leave the classroom for a lunch break.'

I grinned and raced out of the classroom, eager to meet other new ‘prisoners.’

I swept my eyes over the luxurious playground, iridescent beams of pure golden sunlight bringing energy and vibrancy to the area. I spied a group of students sitting under the cool shade created by a veil of lush green foliage. I approached them…

'Hello, I’m Damon.'

They welcomed me kindly, I took a seat next to them and began to listen to their conversation. They were very generous, warm and welcoming, courteous people. We shared similar interests and seemed to get along.

I felt amazed … one of my worst fears, and most dreaded moments, had turned into one of the best experiences of my life!

Ding! Ding! The deafening ring of the dismissal bell signaled the end of the final class. The corridor was instantly flooded with students.

I bolted out of the premises and into my mother’s car.

 'So, how was your first day?' My mother questioned. 

'It.

Was.

Phenomenal…'