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I always fancied the idea of growing up. Until it started happening.
I am an SPM 2018 leaver. A proud, happy one at that.
I had a great time throughout high school and my exhaustively hard work paid off with great results. At school, I knew what I was doing. I knew what I had to do.
My goals.
I was confident and happy with where I was. I guess that’s where I went wrong. After that was over, I felt like I was falling. Then, came the hard part. Finding out who you are. Self-discovery was never my forte anyway. I still don’t know who I am, what I like, what I want to be and how I am going to do it.
I have no idea how people have these ideals of themselves at such tender ages. Bless them. Then here’s me, clueless. So, what does a koala do when it feels confused? it climbs a tree. (Yes, I am the koala)
Source: pexels. Com
Advice After Advice…
The tree refers to all the people I know and the resources I have. Talks, speeches, articles, quizzes, and videos.
Just name it. I clung to it all like it was a tree. Perfect metaphor. Then I came to a solution.
I like sciences (pretty general). So, I debated with myself, using my SPM as the root of it all. I walked through all the options I had; I painted a picture of myself years from now. Thinking of possibilities and chances. All those open doors.
Naturally, you start weaving dreams. Dreams are dangerous. Well, now I know why.
What I Did Next & How It Began To Break Me
I applied everywhere I could. To get offers to study both locally or abroad, privately or through governmental organisations. Being from a middle-class family, I opted for government options.
Not only are they affordable, but they are also recognized. With two younger sisters, I had to subconsciously think about financial aspects as well.
Mind you, there were many options. The first one we opted for was Malaysian Matriculation. If any of you aren’t familiar with this system this year, it is an educational programme designed 90% for the bumiputera and 10% for non-bumiputera.
I don’t come under the former, so it is rationally hard for me.
After matrics, I just had to come out with great results and apply for a university. Plus, with the SPM results I obtained, it shouldn’t have been a problem.
That’s what I was told.
Our second option was to get directly into a university through UPU (Unit Pusat Universiti). This is definitely a better thing to get into as students are already in uni’s and don’t have to apply for them again. According to my resources (friends and family), it is much easier to get into Matriculation than into universities. Way easier. So I planted that thought in my head. Again, my wonderful resources.
My future plan
So, I had it set up. The feeling of being organized beats it all. The thought that you know what you’re doing, which most people in the working world don’t.
And I’m only 18.
In April, the entire country obtained their Matriculation results. In case you’re not aware, it became an issue as many people who did extremely well for SPM failed to obtain matrics.
Yes, that includes me. I always thought I would get in. I planned for it. Many that I know have gotten it before with my results. So why should I be an exception?
Stage 1 of Grief: Denial
It hit me hard at first. A thought suddenly spreads through your mind like poison. Am I good enough? Obviously, everyone’s answer is: no.
Mine was: are you kidding me?
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My family and I went to make a complaint just to find out that thousands were facing the exact same problem that I was facing. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.
Matriculation was my plan A and that did not work. It broke me from the inside, my confidence. For someone who just got exposed to big-time rejection, it felt horrible.
But hold your horses, I had the power of plan B: UPU.
We prayed then, desperate for it. Still, at the back of our minds, we were ready to accept the worse. I told myself firmly that I would not let rejection break my spirit. Not this time, NO.
We planned for the worse anyway (because we are reasonable people). I had the option to go into private institutions. But deep down, I wanted this.
As a re-compensation for Matrics, my forgotten friend… my plan B.
The Hopeful Light That Is Plan B: UPU
The day came, and UPU results were coming out. My parents were calm, I was too. Maybe too calm. I embraced myself for the rejection. At least this time, I would be prepared. I wasn’t going to listen to others who gave me hope – not again.
And guess what? I GOT IT.
I got a chance to study at a local u. It felt surreal. I could not accept it yet. I was shocked. Did that really happen? We googled the campus, and the things people in the university had to say. IT WAS AMAZING. My family was over the moon. I was beginning to come to terms with this news. I was planning now.
Source: pexels. Com
From printing maps of the campus to finding out about the nearest laundry mats. I could see the light in the dark. I saw visions. I knew what I had to do now. No more being clueless. No more being in the dark. The koala in me was on Everest now.
I checked it over and over to make sure I really got it; to make sure my dream is not a dream. It was as real as it could get. I finally held hope in my hands and beamed with joy. My entire family got to know about the news and everyone was so happy, we visited my grandparents. We planned our journey there. Things to do beforehand. I finally accepted it. I did it. I made my family proud. Mission accomplished. I had good dreams and remained ecstatic. For one day. 24 hours. My hopes were good for a day.
I checked it again the next day (typical me) to see the words again. I remember them. Congratulations you got in.
But… I noticed it said I didn’t get it. The words were different now. I didn’t get anything.
I choked on my drink as I read it. It couldn’t have been a dream. No it was definitely real. 100%. I checked a billion times and the image of a document saying I did not qualify was burned into my brain.
An Error
I called a friend, she did not have the problem I did. I did not understand. What could possibly happen now? I called the people in charge of this. They picked up after putting me on hold for 30 minutes which felt like a century. The clerk on the phone re-checked it.
He said it simply monotonously. I’m sorry you did not get it. The system was wrong to put your name in. The words hung at my ears. My eyes watered subconsciously. I did not know what to say. My parents, my grandparents, my FAMILY. I did not want to share this news with anyone.
But knowing it myself was like carrying a huge piece of burning hot metal. I did not have a choice. They would be so upset. This was what I got. It slipped through my fingers just as soon as I grasped it. I couldn’t comprehend it.
I finally told them. And they couldn’t comprehend it either. I kept a positive mindset nevertheless, thinking there was an error.
This can’t be true. You can’t just show someone a dream and snatch it away. Especially if that dream is related to their future.
So we went to KPM headquarters the next day to confirm this was a mistake. It wasn’t.
If anything, I was an error.
Source: pexels. Com
My Curse? Not Being Born As A Bumiputera
The university only accepted those who were bumiputera and locals from that state. I was not in either category but was accidentally taken in. As soon as the filter detected otherwise, I was thrown out of the system.
This news hit so much harder than matrics. If matrics was a rock, UPU was a boulder. I felt so…small and weak. My confidence was gone. I was shattered and extremely disturbed. I felt like a curse.
How can I do well and not get accepted anywhere?
Especially in 2019. It did not make sense. I have never felt like my country and I as being two different entities before. Grief struck me. My emotions were on a roller coaster that kept going faster.
I felt so tired and sore with everyone. I went home and slumped on my chair. Then I wiped my last tear away, got up and walked towards the mirror. My swollen eyes and blocked nose were what made me think. I promised myself I would never be let down again so why was I back here?
Source: unsplash. Com
Later, I thought to myself: what doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger.
Now here I am.
Behind a desk, writing this article.
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