A Rollercoaster Day at SSP

The day began in a panic. I woke up with anxiety at 7:50 a.m.—just ten minutes before school was supposed to start. I hadn’t gotten used to setting my phone to max volume, so I missed my alarm. Unfortunately, my bedmate Arissa made the same mistake, and we both overslept.

In a rush, I accidentally wore my PE shirt instead of my school uniform and had to quickly change. Arissa and I left the dorm with our hair still untied. Thankfully, I had a hair tie on my wrist and managed to fix my hair in the lift. By 7:55 a.m., we were downstairs and rushing to class.

We took the lift up to level 5 for our first period—CCE—but the IB students were having examinations, and the hallway was blocked. That meant taking the long route: one level down and then back up again. We barely made it to class on time, breathless and flustered.

Later, during one of our lessons, the teacher was on emergency leave. I used the time to re-edit my PSSC slides for our upcoming semester presentation. I’ll be sharing with my parents, coach, and CCE mentor about my journey as a freshman at SSP over the past six months. I made it personal and added photos, hoping to make it more engaging—just like how I’m writing and sharing my story here. It only took me about 50 minutes to complete, and I was proud of the result.

After Math, we had Geography, and our WA1 results were released. I was shocked to see I scored 14/20. I honestly didn’t expect it—I had felt so unsure during the test. But at the same time, I wasn’t particularly happy either. It was the same score as my previous WA1, and just one mark short of an A1. I tried not to let it bother me too much and hoped that my other subjects would cheer me up. I was confident about most of them, except Literature—my worst nightmare.

Unfortunately, I need to do reasonably well in Literature to qualify for the IB programme next year, which adds even more pressure. Just thinking about it made me uneasy.

By lunch, I was starving since I hadn’t eaten breakfast. The meal was surprisingly good—the sauce and fish paired with rice tasted amazing. I had a cup of milk and even got to try something new: yellow watermelon. It was the first time it was served this term. I was looking forward to it, but there were too many big seeds, which spoiled the experience a little.

Still feeling a bit hungry, I headed to the school’s popular café, Rally & Roar. It’s a favourite among students for its tasty snacks and comforting atmosphere. I planned to buy a tortilla but changed my mind when I found out there was no chili sauce. I can’t eat it without chili—it just feels too dry, even though my friends think that’s strange.

I ended up heading to the monkey bars to burn some energy. It had been a while since I played around there, and I did a few flips just for fun.

Then I saw Chevelle with a steaming hot cookie, fresh out of the oven. I couldn’t resist and got one too. The first bite was absolute heaven—gooey, warm, and sweet. That small moment lifted my spirits.

But then, English class arrived—and with it, the dreaded Literature WA papers. My stomach dropped. I already knew I had messed up. We were supposed to read a book, analyze a passage, and write about the characters. The thing is, I completely misinterpreted the question. I swapped the roles of the characters, writing that the innocent one was the villain. Even though I followed the structure correctly, I was totally off-topic.

When my teacher handed me my paper, her expression said it all. I flipped the page over and saw the score: 9/25. An F9. I had never scored so poorly before. I was extremely disappointed in myself—but I had expected it. What hurt most wasn’t just the grade. It was knowing how disappointed my mum would be when she found out. For the rest of the afternoon, I couldn’t shake off the heavy feeling in my chest.

As training approached, I sighed, still thinking about the F9. I had to lead the warm-up that day, and apparently, I ran too fast—though to me, it felt normal. My teammates struggled to keep up, but I adjusted. I was paired with Sarah for the session, and I was thrilled. We started with single-ball drills from coach, and training ended with a friendly competition.

At one point, coach made me place a blocker behind me because I kept drifting too far from the table. Even during the ladder game, I had to move the blocker around with me—it was kind of funny, not gonna lie.

After which was then our dinner break. Dinner was great but it sure ended fast.

Then came gym time—one of my absolute favourite parts of the week. We go to the gym twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays.

 That day, gym felt like therapy. The moment I stepped in, the weights, the music, the rhythm of each rep—it all helped me forget about my F9. I could focus, breathe, and just be present. It felt like all the stress from earlier melted away with every squat and lift.

 Coach let me play music, and we went through our planned exercises. The session flew by, and I walked out of the gym feeling refreshed and lighter, both physically and emotionally.

Afterwards, we returned to the dorm to shower and cool down. I skipped supper again—not because I wasn’t hungry, but because writing this reflection felt more satisfying. Besides, I had eaten a good lunch and dinner. Maybe later I’ll grab some snacks I brought from home. I’ll need to finish them soon anyway, with major check-out just two weeks away.

Looking back, today was a rollercoaster.
It started off chaotic and stressful, from the alarm mishap to racing to class, and the disheartening F9 in Literature. But there were bright spots too—refining my PSSC slides, enjoying lunch, the cookie from Rally & Roar, and training with Sarah. Most of all, gym reminded me how movement and routine can heal.

Some days feel like everything goes wrong, but I’m learning that even within the mess, there are moments of joy and small wins that carry me forward. Tomorrow’s a new day—and I’ll be ready for it.