Big Ben and Aliens
Nicola in Year 11 writes about a Project Based Learning Day when the girls joined the boys at our Cliffe Campus.
The typical stereotype for an alien race is little green people with either numerous arms or eyes, depending on how broad your imagination is or how many TV shows you watch. The stereotype also includes distant planets millions of light years ahead of our time.
Well, my definition of alien is those boys from the Cliff Road site. I’ve never met a stranger bunch in my life. Oh they look like us – they’ve got the standard one pair of eyes, and one set of arms and legs. There’re no floating cars, just the odd bike or two. But they’re quite alien, I’m sure. Well, they don’t check their hair every two minutes and constantly tell their friends that they honestly don’t look fat. That’s what we girls do, and that makes them alien. Hmm-mmm, I’m sure of it.
Despite the success of the previous PBL day, I was still rather unsure of the concept. We’d got along with the boys well enough on the last one, but that was on our site. Familiar territory. We were completely comfortable in our own surroundings. But to be spending on a site completely alien to those of us who hadn’t been dragged along to an older or younger brother’s parent’s evening at some point in their education? I was dreading it. And I don’t usually say that about birthday presents. (This PBL day had fallen on my sixteenth birthday. My best friend had taken great delight in showing me the poster about it and laughing at me until I stole her lip gloss and refused to return it)!
So as I walked into the Cliff Road site with two best friends, one considerably happier since I had stopped confiscating her make up, I wasn’t exactly optimistic about the day. But I did have some hope.
But when I walked into the reception, all those thoughts fled at once. A serious problem dawned on us all, and we began to look around wildly.
WHERE’S THE GIRLS TIOLETS?! My thoughts screamed. WHERE ARE THEY?! I began to panic – where on earth would I hide if the groups got awkward, and where could I check my hair conveniently?! The boys loitering intently at the back of the reception looked bemused by our mass hysteria. I felt like narrowing my eyes at them, but I was too busy completely freaking out. Oh, you can grin at us like that all you want. I hissed mentally at them. You know where your little boy’s room is!
And then Mr Logan appeared. A familiar face! I doubt I’ll never be so overjoyed to see him again.
‘Hall’s over there.’ He said, pointing at the double doors at the back. We trudged into the hall, feeling rather despondent. We found a middle-ish row of seats and plonked ourselves down, wondering what to expect. The hall began to fill with our friends and boys who appeared out of curiosity. I thanked all who wished me a happy birthday, discussed the subject of the girl’s room with any female who would listen and glared enviously at the balcony at the back, overlooking the entire hall. We don’t have one of those. I thought sullenly.
We sat there for what seemed like a good chunk of forever as the hall slowly filled with familiar and unfamiliar faces and UCA students (Whose clothes were so bright that they looked like a box of Quality Streets), all this being accompanied by a frenzied phone call from a friend who had inexplicably gotten herself lost on the way to the site. A teacher began to hush the noise in the hall, and introduced a guest speaker – a model maker. We clapped politely and began to watch a slideshow of many numerous cool looking models he and his team had worked on. I was impressed! When the slide show was over and the guest speaker had spoken his last, we were shown pictures of famous buildings we could make models of.
And then came the salvation.
‘And if you go just through the school cafeteria, you’ll find the girl’s toilets…’
The female population of the hall sighed in relief, that worry firmly booted out the door, leaving us with only concern. How was this day going to turn out?
When the talk was over and our groups were assigned; we trudged off down the corridors, this time having to contend on the boys to lead the way. When we reached our classrooms, we set ourselves down, figured out between us what buildings we wanted to do, sent a couple of our members back to the hall to pick up the pictures, and the rest of us attempted to make conversation with each other.
And we had success.
Soon groups were laughing and chatting as they had done on the previous PBL day, even though we were in different groups than the first time around. Even though there wasn’t much chatting my group – we were quite focused on our task, whenever there was chat, it was funny and we all had a good laugh.
And then came lunch time.
Exploring was quite fun. My friends and I huddled up in the random cubby holes and laughed at the purposes that we made up for them, and whenever a group of boys made very unintelligent noises at us, we met them with our own with as much fervour as they had, doing our sex proud, if I say so myself. I found a couple of friends who had promised me birthday hugs, received them, and treated myself to an iced slice of cake. It was my birthday, after all, and we made our way outside. The maze that was this site thickened – there were so many different buildings to wonder into. We followed the paths and doubled back with numerous bad words hurriedly when we realized what the time was.
After lunch, we had some more time to work on our models to perfect them to the best of our ability. I suppose, as a reader, you’d quite like a description of our masterpiece. As the writer, it’s up to me whether you get one or not.
I’m in a good mood. You’re in luck.
Our model was, quite simply, brilliant. If you looked at it from a certain angle. Preferably about forty three degrees right from the centre. It doesn’t look so diagonal from there. But, our model of Big Ben had everything from four detailed clock faces to a hurriedly made paper sleeve with gold and silver stripes down it. Even a foam-board frame work. I’d like to see Da Vinci do better.
.
And then it came to the final assembly.
Anticipation was brewing as each group cradled their models in their arms like terrified first-time parents, scared that they’d end up dropping their babies. Upon arrival into the hall, models were laid with frenzied cries of “CAREFUL! CAREFUL!” onto the surrounding tables, and we found our seats again.
I glanced at my model with pride, feeling like a parent who was watching their child up on stage in a nativity play, thinking smugly that none of the other kids could hold a candle to mine. I think I would have blinded everyone sitting near me with joy if my model had suddenly waved at me, mouthing the words “HI MUM!”
Mr Moore stood up on the stage. We all leant forward in our seats. After a presentation and a couple of speeches, we had finished. I hauled myself up with the rest of my peers and filed out of the hall, deciding to find the friend who was spending her evening around mine for my birthday.
I think there’ll be mixed opinions about the day. I can imagine some groups getting along, others not so well. Hey – you can’t be everyone’s cup of tea, can you? (Some people like it weak, some like it strong, and some of us take sugar!)
But, I think I can sum up my experience of the day with a series of small metaphorical paragraphs. Bear with me - you’ll just love the last line.
Man is branching out amongst the stars, leaping over constellations in its ever persistent efforts to touch that star just beyond the horizon. That one. Just there. And who knows? – maybe we’ll make contact with an intelligent life form. But what will they think of us? Will they think of us as odd looking? (Take a good long look at your toes when you don’t have socks on next, and you’ll see what I mean). Will they think us as pointless? What will we have to offer them? Land? Earth? Oil? WKD? Chicken Tikka Masala?
I think that the human race and the alien life-form will unite on one thing. That we’re not so alone as we thought we were. Sure, the alien race might have a few neighbours – but the more the merrier.
I think of the Carnation Road and the Cliffe Road sites that way. Both civilisations have been thrust into space, and we were just looking to see if we weren’t alone. I can tell you, we aren’t.
Perhaps the students on the Cliffe Road site feel closer to those aliens with eye shadow. I know I’m warming to the BMX riding people of Planet Cliffe.
To the people of Medway: We, Strood Academy, come in peace.
