Difference between revisions of "User:Arice"
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In my first year, I took a Honors Mathematics course and a Young Historians course. Sadly my memory, as usual, lovingly decided to forget about the names and topics. I do remember, however, sitting with my father, on the floor, talking for hours, from morning to midnight about anything i learnt in class, and expanding on it using his knowledge. I also remember taking the Honors Maths post-test and getting an A+, at 3 am in the morning, in my pajamas, sweating from pure stress as I hug my father, who had come home from work just for this. That night was spent smiling with him till he left early in the morning. Less than 24 hours later, my mother got the news he had passed.<br> | In my first year, I took a Honors Mathematics course and a Young Historians course. Sadly my memory, as usual, lovingly decided to forget about the names and topics. I do remember, however, sitting with my father, on the floor, talking for hours, from morning to midnight about anything i learnt in class, and expanding on it using his knowledge. I also remember taking the Honors Maths post-test and getting an A+, at 3 am in the morning, in my pajamas, sweating from pure stress as I hug my father, who had come home from work just for this. That night was spent smiling with him till he left early in the morning. Less than 24 hours later, my mother got the news he had passed.<br> | ||
From then on, I don't remember much of CTY. The next mention was from my mother, in winter, months after the last test, where she turned to me in the hallway of our apartment as we waited for the elevator, and said, looking down, something along the lines that if I wanted, she could sign me up for a On-Campus Course that my father had paid for before he passed.<br> | From then on, I don't remember much of CTY. The next mention was from my mother, in winter, months after the last test, where she turned to me in the hallway of our apartment as we waited for the elevator, and said, looking down, something along the lines that if I wanted, she could sign me up for a On-Campus Course that my father had paid for before he passed.<br> | ||
| − | Of course, I agreed. How could I reject a gift from one of the only people who understood me? | + | Of course, I agreed. How could I reject a gift from one of the only people who understood me? School passed in a blur of focusing, breaking down, trying to get up, and barely doing so. I only felt the weight on me even more as I trudged to the admissions area, seeing every smile around me fake, unknowing, or forced. I stood in the corner while my mother and the counselor glanced at me, their eyes piercing, unraveling. |
Revision as of 14:23, 21 August 2025
CTY on me as a child
Hi, CTY. This is Erica, or rather, Ari speaking from Japan. Maybe nobody will see this page, but here goes.
It might sound like something so many users have said before, but CTY has impacted me from before my horrible memory can remember. Which of course, is short, but it feels like forever since I was first sitting at my wooden table, the smooth and cold surface doing nothing to reassure my nerves as I took the test. Of course, I passed, and in that moment I felt only relief, simply considering it as another test passed, another score recieved. But oh, I quite literally COULD not have been more wrong.
In my first year, I took a Honors Mathematics course and a Young Historians course. Sadly my memory, as usual, lovingly decided to forget about the names and topics. I do remember, however, sitting with my father, on the floor, talking for hours, from morning to midnight about anything i learnt in class, and expanding on it using his knowledge. I also remember taking the Honors Maths post-test and getting an A+, at 3 am in the morning, in my pajamas, sweating from pure stress as I hug my father, who had come home from work just for this. That night was spent smiling with him till he left early in the morning. Less than 24 hours later, my mother got the news he had passed.
From then on, I don't remember much of CTY. The next mention was from my mother, in winter, months after the last test, where she turned to me in the hallway of our apartment as we waited for the elevator, and said, looking down, something along the lines that if I wanted, she could sign me up for a On-Campus Course that my father had paid for before he passed.
Of course, I agreed. How could I reject a gift from one of the only people who understood me? School passed in a blur of focusing, breaking down, trying to get up, and barely doing so. I only felt the weight on me even more as I trudged to the admissions area, seeing every smile around me fake, unknowing, or forced. I stood in the corner while my mother and the counselor glanced at me, their eyes piercing, unraveling.
