We all ran the corridors together to make sure we were always ahead of the headmaster. If one did get caught, we all took the blame being ready to be held accountable for every one’s mistakes. This unity is something I was willing to give up to settle sooner. It was never a happy family, after all, every family has its own disputes and so did we. Despite the countless fights we may have overcome, we never failed to get back together and be as one. The last two years came by where we knew the finish line is just a milestone away. Four different classes, multiple cultural backgrounds, various ages, nothing we had in common except for the love and respect to the emblem placed on our shirts and the family that was formed from this batch.
We conquered the basketball court, leaving all the juniors have their jaws drop open wide. No, we were not playing “ball”. Instead, we found the love in holding one another’s hands and playing catchers. Many times did they leave me to run around crazy to the end, but never have they let me down as much as the rest of the people in my life have.
Going back after all these years could not stop me from missing to have climbed the stage up once more and have the curtains unveiled for our performance, by ‘The Local Boys’. How ironic could that even be for a set of students representing an international school. We were grateful for having been born to a generation that enjoyed cricket with file covers and paper-ball so a “posh” name for our group couldn’t have done better.
We were never the most preferred set of rascals. As a matter of fact, we were the most mischievous batch but hey, guess what? We were still one of the most respected batches. This, I do not tell to boast of me and my family, but to enlighten on the importance of respect no matter what you do in life. The respect we had for one another, the teachers and our school.