khong xung tamThe school bell rings

khong xung tam


The school bell rings at exactly seven, and I step into the small classroom with the Year Ten Coordinator. “This is Tra My, she is from Australia and will be joining our class for the next few months…,” the coordinator’s voice trails off as the students begin to clap. Feeling a little less nervous, I smile and wave awkwardly hello at the class before sitting down, conscious of the fifty five pairs of curious eyes watching me. The coordinator leaves and the teacher begins the lesson. It is Literature, and she tells me not to worry if I don’t understand everything. She starts to read what sounds like an analysis of a text, while the students frantically try to write down her every word. I take the chance to look around - the walls of the classroom are brown, the seats and tables in perfect rows, also brown. Everything is neat, clean, perfect and in its place. All the heads are down, but mine.

The weeks pass and my classmates have become my friends. They are just as interested in my life as I am in theirs, if not even more. Through their stories, and my observations, I notice a stark difference between the education I have been receiving in Australia and what it is like here. I think about this as I walk home from an exhausting day at school one afternoon, eyes on the grubby grey concrete ahead of me. I am behind these students. Where in Australia, I have been studying one broad subject called ‘science,’ they have already been specializing in chemistry, physics and biology since year seven. Their use of English as a second language is impressive, making my three years study of French look particularly pathetic.

Yet despite their advance knowledge in the technical subjects, even I can see that they are overall divantaged by the system. There are no experiments conducted for science subjects, no excursions, no camps, no oval- not one blade of grass anywhere for that matter. There are never any class discussions, and no student ever disagrees with the teacher. Everything seems to be dictated here, and students are given no chance to create or express their ideas. They are not even given a choice of what subjects to study. “In this rigid system, the curriculum is set by the Government, taught in the same text books, in the same way in every school,” I remember a friend expressing her dissatisfaction. “But at the end of the day, that’s just how things are here, and to survive all we can do is study and study and do as we are told”.

All my friends share an overwhelming common dream of one day being able to study overseas. I’m the embodiment of their dreams. I find that particularly shocking, considering cute boys are the only subjects of my dreams at the moment.

I look up at the street ahead of me, hundreds of metres of cement footpath occasionally interrupted by anonymous faces of kids my age or even younger. They are booksellers, shoe-shiners or beggars. I don’t know anything about their lives, but to me, they all seem to be victims of circumstance. I feel confused. Here I am, pitying the students who, by comparison to these helpless kids, have a vast wealth of opportunity. And me, well, the opportunities I hold are so off their scale that it wouldn’t even register in their wildest dreams. My life and its infinite possibilities are incomprehensible to these kids.

As I reach closer to home, I can see Hoa in the distance, returning from the market and struggling to carry two bamboo baskets that look heavier than her. I want to cry but I don’t, perhaps I can’t. As I turn away, she slowly fades into the backdrop of grey buildings, dying brown trees, and dusty metal scaffolds.

Looking back, I didn’t realize at the time I had changed, but at some point I obviously did. It’s only in retrospect that I can pinpoint the exact moment when I recognized my comparative luxury, and began to wonder why I ever complained about my life at all. Upon my return to Australia, my priorities in life were somewhat rearranged. Of course, however, I wasn’t immediately different. But gradually, I became more focused at school and began to care less and less about the materialistic things that were once the centre of my world. It was only once the transformation was complete that I was aware of, and thankful for, the profound shift that took place in me after my three month stay in Vietnam.

Kết quả (Anh) 1:

Khong tam pulseThe school bell rings at exactly seven, and I step into the small classroom with the Year Ten Coordinators. "This is My Test, she is from Australia and will be joining our class for the next few months...," the coordinator's voice trails off as the students begin to clap. Feeling a little less nervous, I smile and wave hello awkwardly at the class before sitting down, conscious of the fifty five pairs of curious eyes watching me. The coordinator leaves and the teacher begins the lesson. It is Literature, and she tells me not to worry if I don't understand everything. She starts to read what sounds like an analysis of a text, while the students frantically try to write down her every word. I take the chance to look around-the walls of the classroom are brown, the seats and tables in perfect rows, also brown. Everything is neat, clean, perfect and in its place. All the heads are down, but mine. The weeks pass and my classmates have become my friends. They are just as interested in my life as I am in theirs, if not even more. Through their stories, and my observations, I notice a stark difference between the education I have been receiving in Australia and what it is like here. I think about this as I walk home from an exhausting day at school one afternoon, eyes on the grubby grey concrete ahead of me. I am behind these students. Where in Australia, I have been studying one broad subject called ' science, ' they have already been specializing in chemistry, physics and biology since year seven. Their use of English as a second language is impressive, making my three years study of French look particularly pathetic. Yet despite their advance knowledge in the technical subjects, even I can see that they are divantaged by the overall system. There are no experiments conducted for science subjects, no excursions, no camps, no oval-not one blade of grass anywhere for that matter. There are never any class discussions, and no student ever disagrees with the teacher. Everything seems to be dictated here, and students are given no chance to create or express their ideas. They are not even given a choice of what subjects to study. "In this rigid system, the curriculum is set by the Government, self-taught in the same text books, in the same way in every school," I remember a friend expressing her dissatisfaction. "But at the end of the day, that's just how things are here, and to survive all we can do is study and study and do as we are told". All my friends share an overwhelming common dream of one day being able to study overseas. I'm the embodiment of their dreams. I find that particularly shocking, considering the cute boys are the only subjects of my dreams at the moment. I look up at the street ahead of me, hundreds of metres of cement footpath occasionally interrupted by anonymous faces of kids my age or even younger. They are booksellers, shoe-shiners or beggars. I don't know anything about their lives, but to me, they all seem to be victims of circumstance. I feel confused. Here I am, self-pitying students who, by comparison to these helpless kids, have a vast wealth of opportunity. And me, well, the opportunities I hold are so off their scale that it wouldn't even register in their wildest dreams. My life and its infinite possibilities are incomprehensible to these kids. As I reach closer to home, I can see Flowers in the distance, returning from the market and struggling to carry two bamboo baskets that look heavier than her. I want to cry but I don't, perhaps I can't. As I turn away, she slowly fades into the backdrop of grey buildings, dying trees, brown and dusty metal scaffolds. Looking back, I didn't realize at the time I had changed, but at some point I obviously did. It's only in retrospect that I can pinpoint the exact moment when I recognized my comparative luxury, and began to wonder why I ever complained about my life at all. Upon my return to Australia, my priorities in life were somewhat rearranged. Of course, however, I wasn't immediately different. But gradually, I became more focused at school and began to care less and less about the materialistic things that were once the centre of my world. It was only once the transformation was complete that I was aware of, and thankful for, the profound shift that took place in me after my three month stay in Vietnam.

Kết quả (Anh) 2:

khong pulse triangle The school bell rings at seven Exactly, and I step into the small classroom with the Year Ten Coordinator. "This is Tra My, she is from Australia and will be for the next class Joining our ít months ...," the coordinator's voice trails off as the Students begin to clap. Feeling a little less nervous, I smile and wave hello at the class trước awkwardly sitting down, conscious of the fifty five pairs of curious eyes watching me. The coordinator leaves and the teacher begins the lesson. It is Literature, and SHE Tells me not to worry if I do not hiểu everything. She starts to read what sounds like an analysis of a text, while the Students frantically try to write down every word her Artist. I take the chance to look around - the walls of the classroom are brown, the seats and tables in perfect rows, am also brown. Everything is neat, clean, and in its perfect place. All the heads are down, but mine. The weeks pass and my trở Classmates have my friends. They are just as interested as I am in my life in theirs, if not more even level. Through có stories, and my observations, I notice a stark difference the between the education I được Receiving in Australia and what it is like here. I think about this as I walk home from an exhausting day at school one afternoon, eyes on the grubby gray concrete ahead of me. I am Behind These Students. Where in Australia, I được studying one subject gọi broad 'science,' They have already được specializing in chemistry, physics and biology since year seven. Their use of English as a second language is impressive, making my three years of French study Particularly look pathetic. Yet despite chúng advance technical knowledge in the subjects, I can see mà thậm chúng divantaged by the system overall. There are no Experiments Conducted for science subjects, no Excursions, no camps, no blade of grass oval- not one anywhere for that matter. There are never any class discussions, and no student disagrees with the teacher Ever. Everything here seems? To be dictated, and Students are given no chance to ask for their ideas create or express. They are not given a choice of what thậm subjects to study. "In this rigid system, the curriculum is set by the Government, in the same text books Taught, in the same way in every school," I remember a friend her Artist Expressing dissatisfaction. "But at the end of the day, that's just how things are here, and to survive all chúng can do is study and study and by as We Are Told." All my friends share an Overwhelming common dream of one day being thể study Overseas. I'm the embodiment of chúng dreams. I find mà Particularly shocking, considering cute boys are the only subjects of my dreams at the moment. I look up at the street ahead of me, hundreds of meters of cement footpath Interrupted occasionally by anonymous faces of kids my age or younger even level. They are Booksellers, shoe-shiners or beggars. I do not know anything about có lives, but to me, all the seem to be chúng victims of Circumstance. I feel confused. Here I am, pitying the Students who, by comparison to these Helpless kids, have a wealth of opportunity VAST. And me, well, I hold the Opportunities are so off it would not ask for their scale có trong wildest dreams thậm register. My life and its infinite POSSIBILITIES are incomprehensible to these kids. As I tới closer to home, I can see in the distance States, returning from the market and struggling to carry two baskets bamboo charcoal Heavier mà the her look. I want to cry but I do not, perhaps' I can not. As I turn away, SHE Slowly fades Into the backdrop of gray buildings, dying trees brown, and dusty metal scaffolds. Looking back, I did not realize at the time I had changed, but at some point I did Obviously. It's only in Retrospect can pinpoint the exact That I khi I nhận my moment comparative luxury, and Began to wonder why I Ever complained about my life at all. Upon my return to Australia, my là Priorities in life somewhat rearranged. Of course, Tuy nhiên, I was not ngay khác. But gradually, I became more Focused at school and to care less and less Began about the materialistic things once the center of là có my world. It was only once the transformation was complete That I was aware of, and thankful for, the Profound shift took place in me after mà three month stay in Vietnam my.