After lunch yesterday I walked up to a little office in the administration building of the business school I go to. I gave them my student roll number and collected the green registration card with my picture on it. Picking up a pen I looked at my own handwriting.My name neatly scrawled in different ink on five different dates. I paused for a moment before I gingerly put my signature for the last time and turned away. The last leg of my academic life.
I have pictures of my first day at kindergarten in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. Four years old, neatly dressed, a blue cotton bag on one shoulder, a red penguin water bottle on the other, giving an impish smile at my dad. After close to a year of a lot of fun there, they gave me a 'Diploma of kindergarten'. Needless to say, I was on a high for a whole week, my first recorded high. Ever since, school has always been joyful for me. I was one of those eager kids who hated missing school and would go almost forty minutes earlier than the first bell. The wonderful life of friends, books, grades. And a few teachers I hold close to heart.
I have pictures of my first day at kindergarten in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. Four years old, neatly dressed, a blue cotton bag on one shoulder, a red penguin water bottle on the other, giving an impish smile at my dad. After close to a year of a lot of fun there, they gave me a 'Diploma of kindergarten'. Needless to say, I was on a high for a whole week, my first recorded high. Ever since, school has always been joyful for me. I was one of those eager kids who hated missing school and would go almost forty minutes earlier than the first bell. The wonderful life of friends, books, grades. And a few teachers I hold close to heart.
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