A message to everyone getting their ATARs today: - My most memorable nosebleed happened five weeks before my English exam. It’s a strange thing to remember; I know – but this was a colossal nose bleed. It was afterschool on a hot day, I’d been eating my fair share of Skittles (the best study food), and when I ran to the bathroom my nose was running just as fast as the tap half turned on. A teacher walked in to check on me, and I think he just about passed out thinking he’d walked into the world’s worst slasher film, going by all the blood. I went to the doctor and, in no uncertain terms, she told me I needed to calm the f*** down. Well, sorry Doc, but another Psychology practice exam awaits. Similarly, the most memorable all nighter I had was the very early morning of December 17th, 2012. I started frying some bacon and eggs at about 2.40am when I checked Facebook and saw that the Herald Sun high-acheiver’s list had been leaked! Of course, I checked the list, and was brutally overwhelmed when I saw my name in it three times (albeit for subjects that scale down worse than a party invaded by the cops). To this day, the smell of burning bacon feels like the most disgusting sense of relief on the planet. I don’t mean to give you my life story, but you can see that I was a VERY high-strung Year 12 student. My ATAR meant everything to me in the worst way possible – from nosebleeds, to breakdowns, to insane highs of relief when my marks came back labelled “acceptable”. I tell you this so you can better believe me when I tell you that – and I wish I could use italics right now – your ATAR doesn’t define you. We hear this everyday of our Year 12 life from wise folk, and always we hear them without ever really listening. ‘Easy for you to say’, we think. But trust me, I’ve been through it. I’ve just finished my second year of uni and I’ve changed degrees no less than three times (so I’m now in my fourth degree). Safe to say, there’s not a lot I know in life, but I DO know that the ATAR is produce by an imperfect system; a system that’s actually designed to represent who you are with a four digit number, and a system that is always going to fail at that job. Now, I’m not saying “do away with high-school! Do away with education!” – that would be silly. Obviously, we need SOME system in place. But the fact of the matter is, today, there are going to be three types of people: 1) the person who didn’t get the ATAR that they wanted 2) the person who did get the ATAR that they wanted and 3) the person who just doesn’t care. To the people who didn’t get the ATAR that they wanted… I’m not going to tell you that there are “pathways” that you can go down, that this isn’t the end of the world. You know that, and I know you know that. Instead, to you, I want to say two things. Firstly, I understand. A lot of people will look at your ATAR and console you by saying it’s still “pretty good”, or that it’s still a “success”. But I understand that to you, success is relative to what your aims were, and no matter what your ATAR is, if YOU didn’t meet YOUR aims – that’s a failure in your mind. I want to say that I understand, and that it’s okay to feel that way – just make sure you don’t keep feeling that way for too long. Secondly, I want to say that I’m proud of you. If you’re disappointed, it means you had the balls to care about something, and invest yourself into it even though you knew there was a chance at failure. That’s really hard, but you did it. Well done. To the people who did get the ATAR that they wanted, no matter how big or small – hell yeah. I hope that it gives you a sense of satisfaction and meeting your goals isn’t underwhelming. Firstly, and I’m sure a lot of people will be telling you this and your newsfeeds are probably blowing up with it – make sure you’re compassionate to your close friends who may not have done so well. It’s important we take care of one another. But secondly, I wanted to tell you not to ‘hide’ the success just in case it hurts someone. This is your day, too, and you should own it! Be compassionate as possible, but don’t get so caught up in how other people are feeling (whether they’re feeling good or bad), that you forget to give yourself a small self-congratulations. This battle was hard fought and hard won, you’ve earned it. To the person who doesn’t care – don’t sweat, I feel that, too. Nothing wrong with a little bit of apathy here and there. Perhaps it’s the case that you don’t care because you gave up long ago, or that you never needed an ATAR anyway, or that you knew your ATAR would be less than desirable so decided not caring was better. Whatever the reason may be – don’t let the apathy extend too far outwards! Keep in confined to your ATAR, but don’t let it extend to future educational opportunities. You might not care about school, that’s sweet, but make sure in the next few weeks you begin to care about uni, or tafe, or your apprenticeship, or your entry into the workforce. I’m not sure if my point is coming across at all, but… life’s just beginning. School’s over. That’s exciting, and that’s something to care about, so do it! That’s most of the specific stuff that I wanted to say. Today is strange because in 2013, it was too close to my own ATAR release to properly reflect on, whereas today I really feel what you’re all feeling, and I also have the benefit of properly reflecting on what I was feeling. So, I know this is a huge day for so many of you, and random emotions – relief, confusion (that it’s all over), happiness, nostalgia – are all flying at you like bludgers in a Quidditch match, and that’s awesome. Feel it; own it. THAT matters. Your experience matters, from the start of the year to right now. That matters a lot. It’s shaped you as people in particular ways you might not even acknowledge yet. But your ATAR itself – the actual numbers. The four digits, THOSE don’t matter. THOSE don’t define you. I hope you see the distinction I’m making. When people say “Ah, the ATAR doesn’t matter!”, it sounds like your whole year was just goddamn meaningless – but it wasn’t! The success matters, the failures matter, the experience matters, so in this sense, your ATAR matters and it’s really important. When people say the ATAR is meaningless, it’s true. The actual number itself only has one meaning – it means you’ll either get into your first preference or you won’t. So in that rigid, pragmatic sense, yes it’s meaningless, and hence CANNOT define you. But that most certainly doesn’t mean today, and all the previous days were meaningless. Anyway, this turned out far longer than I could ever expect a reader to tolerate. I’ll wrap it up and say that, more than anything; I want to congratulate all of you on making it through. If there’s anything ATAR Notes can do to help you, whether it be course advice, score condolences, or questions about part-time work, please head over to our forums and ask away. Every year it’s an honour for the graduates at ATAR Notes to help another group of Year 12s make it through, and it was certainly no less of an honour this year. So congratulations. And we really mean it in the deepest sense of the word. Class of 2014 – hell yeah! You started from the bottom. Now u here bby. Sick job, 10/10. Go live it up, today and for the rest of your life, Maddest regards, ATAR Notes.
Posted on: Sun, 14 Dec 2014 20:29:00 +0000
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