University. I've been there for half a decade now and it is crunch time. Final Year, Final Semester, Final Coursework, Final Exams, Final Final Final Final. The End. Then the start. I have applied for Teacher Training. I am applying for a Masters with a view to PhD. The plan was that I apply to both of these things and one way or another I get into a career and work on up from there. The prospect of teacher training was always appealling and the idea of being a postgraduate something beyond my ideas of what I could achieve. So that was the plan... one way or other, work hard and there you go.
Now though, I find out there are a total of TWENTY, yes only twenty spaces on the teacher training for history. In addition, the necessity of a first class degree in order to obtain funding makes postgrad not only the hard stretch it always was, but something that I may well be over my head in. I need an average mark of 70 or above and at least half my papers to be that level too. I have recently found out two things that turn the completley uninticingly scarce job market from a grown-up worry to an all too grim future for myself.
1) You cant dual-qualify yourself at Jordanhill for teacher training. So I have wasted 3 years studying bloody political science with a bunch of moronic socialists who go on amnesty international rallies, when I could have been doing all history. This in turn also makes me less employable should I, and it is very unlikely that I will, get into teacher training.
2) I got a mark of 60 for a politics essay. I got this under the tutor who I have only ever received first class marks from before. All logic is out the window and now it is time to FREAK.
But not too fast. I always freak. Then I panic. Then I spend the better part of a year overcoming panic attacks. Then I get back to normal and some shite happens. No more! I'm going to lie back and be cucumberesque, because I beleive I do worry my life away, and lets face it what is the worst that could happen? I don't get into teacher training, I don't get a first and therefore don't do a masters, and I have to face the harsh reality of joining the oversubscribed group of graduate jobseekers (yea, thanks universities for accepting any high school student who turned up enough to get a B and 2 Cs at higher) and work some job earning less that someone who works in tesco.
It's all shit if you look at it through shit tinted speccies. I don't have such eyewear, yet I'm pretty sure I was born with jobby coloured contacts in. My glass is not half full, and it is not half empty. It's split on the floor because I knocked over in a freak out and then no-one can drink 50% of a glass of water.
Ah well I think I'll just go freak out. And nurse my food-poisoned kitty cat.
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