Flashbacks of one crazy year that changed my life

On the 17^th of May 2019, 53 students out of 3000 were chosen as prefects in our school. I can’t say how lucky and fortunate I was to be among those few. What followed was a story of laughter and tears, duty and fun, responsibilities and fulfilling impossibilities.

To be frank, we got off a rocky start. The school’s second term started two weeks after the Easter Sunday Bombings, and on the first day of the term, there were only 37 students in the entire school. Only three girls were of my age, and we (the whole school) were put into one classroom and strictly instructed not to wander anywhere alone. I spent the rest of the day listening to my friend relate Stranger Things.

As the days went on, it became obvious that we weren’t allowed to have a grand investiture in front of the school and parents like the previous guilds did. Because there might be a possibility that a bomb would be detonated so gathering in crowds was dangerous…idk. Anyways, our badging ceremony was held in front of a select group of teachers and the previous guild, and I was given my dream position of being the deputy captain of my house. Short but not exactly sweet.

Our academic year was yet to start, so for a short while, we were free while the rest of the school was learning. Our job was to patrol the school at times to make sure children don’t gather in crowds (because bombs) and keep them out of the cafeteria at teaching hours (again bombs), although I couldn’t imagine how a bomb would get in while about five army personnel guarded the school gates and when the LSO examined us with a metal detector before we came in. There was a chance that some among us could have been crass about it, but thankfully, since my house’s captain was Muslim, this didn’t happen. (Eventually, those same people grew far more accepting enough to vote her as the best leader of our guild)

Because of bombs, we had to take shifts in coming to school as early as possible (this meant six o’clock), sign our names, bring out some desks from the nearby classes and check the bags of every single student that came in. And because we weren’t reliable, we had to place our fingerprints to track down the exact time we came in to the school.

Between times, we became fast friends. I found myself talking to people I’d been avoiding my entire life, to find out that underneath their rowdiness and strong language they were warm and welcoming people. They first didn’t fit in – with a head prefect who spoke more English than Sinhala – until they discovered that the HP had a pretty good repertoire of old Sinhala songs. We had to train our juniors – which included not only fifteen-year-olds but fourteen-years as well. Our teachers-in-charge were changed at least three times. We called ourselves the ‘labrats’ for I’m sure no other guild was subjected to as many experiments as ours were. It's pretty incredible how complete strangers grew to people swapping the most embarrassing and intimate stories of their lives. Gradually we all melted down into one unit.

Then the world began to kick in.

After what seemed like a pause in school activities, they started to rush in all at once. All of a sudden we were expected to do this, do that, set 3000+ chairs for this event, collect money, organize days, do fundraising projects, do our duties like silencing students and making sure they clean their classrooms and travel in neat lines – all the while staying in class and learning (how can you be in two places at once, ma’am? Never mind. We’re supposed to do the impossible).

I was the IT prefect. My job was to translate articles for the school’s website, set up the projector for events and handle whatever was going on in the screen. Which is more stressful than it appears, for if you screw up, the entire world sees it.

Then came the competitions – singing, drama, debating, sports…and with them came, inevitably, rivalries. While these may be fierce at the time, the four captains made it clear from the start that they weren’t ‘splitting up’. “At the end of the day, we’re still friends.” Oh, but it doesn’t take a lot to forget that.

My house got first place in junior English drama for a script I wrote (Oliver Twist). Debating was a mess where our topic was ‘Trade Wars between China and USA would lead to a downfall in global economy’. Much to my dismay we got opposition. It was my second debate so it was a pleasant surprise when we got first place, and an even more pleasant surprise when the judge singled out the “thin, dark girl” (namely, me) for being a pretty good debater.

Then came the sportsmeet, where I had to give at least twenty phone calls a day to children I didn’t even know: “Hello, is X at home? Yes, I’m Janitha, your house’s deputy captain. Can you come to school in the holidays for badminton/basketball/netball/table tennis/rifle shooting/handball etc?”

After a January of nothing but running to and fro and persuading students to practice sports and then cheering ourselves hoarse, we once again found ourselves in an interlude with nothing to do. Staying in class and learning was boring and strange after months of nothing but busyness, trying to bully our minds into studying for the looming term test. Eventually our classes were rearranged for the tests and we had our first test: a five-hour combined maths paper on the eleventh of March. Our papers were collected well after the school bell rang, and when I went to my duty position, a lot of people asked me, do we have school tomorrow?

But I didn’t know anything of what had happened, and it seemed like no one else knew either. It was after I came home that I got wind of what the matter was about: a second coronavirus patient had been found in Sri Lanka. All schools were closed and the rest of our exams left hanging in the air, and we’re still at home.

On the 7^th of July 2020, after one year and sixty eight days since we were given that badge, our term of serving ended and the new guild got their badges, without even a fraction of the celebrations we had. I think we might be the only guild in the entire school’s history that didn’t get a badging ceremony or a de-badging ceremony. I wish nothing but luck for the new prefects. Their newest duties - on top of everything they already have to do - would be to make sure that everyone wears masks and clean their hands and do not gather in crowds, at least one thing we have in common.

Some memorable moments:

Dragging an enormous pink elephant head bigger than the sidewalk on foot down the main road from my home to the school (Please don’t ask)

Me crying unstoppably without any reason why – stuff like that happens and it’s super embarrassing

Trying to silence akkas a year older than me and twice my size

Accidentally putting the wrong slide on the screen at the Colours Night

Making sure students travel in lines in front of the offices with the vice principal staring strangely at me (I am totally unaware that some mischievous nangas have stuck flowers into my ponytail)

And lastly, the same vice-principal spotting me and the HP crouching down in the garden and identifying butterflies with absolute concentration, complete with a field guide and notebook in our hands. It must have been a sight!

 

I didn’t expect this article to get this long, but it’s been a heck of a year and so much has happened. I left out names of people and places for privacy reasons, so please respect that privacy.

Glossary: Akkas – older sisters, Nangas – younger sisters