An amateur’s guide to RHS – Olivia King
Everything that could possibly go wrong in your first week at RHS
Monday
You had arrived at breakfast working your school regulation hair cut or a Miss Trunchbull bun, both of which your parents told you was perfectly suitable for a Navy boarding school. You quickly learned that the authoritative figures parting the waves like Moses in the assembly hall, were prefects; although you were convinced you saw the glint of a halo above one of their heads. By the time that period six had been and gone, you were still dealing with the aftermath of accidentally calling your male maths teacher ‘mum’.
Tuesday
You got caught in the RHS flow between lessons and found yourself in a near death situation trying to make it to the wrong English corridor. Do you risk your life and turn around? Go against the flow of pupils? Have to repeatedly apologise for knocking out angry-looking year elevens with your Mutant Ninja Turtles backpack? You took the chance and made it out alive. Only just, but you made it. You had the second near miss of the day in the dining hall, where you and your bag attempted to enter without an Early Mess card. You left, rejected by the prefect on door duty, with two questions: how were you going to get to baking club in time and what on earth was ‘mess’?
Wednesday
After not being able to find your sports kit, despite everything including individual socks having been labelled by matron, you found yourself precisely three minutes late to the astro. Doing a lap of the hockey pitch had you rapidly regretting eating a term’s worth of tuck in three days. Laying in the foetal position, convinced you had gone into cardiac arrest, only aggravated the sports teachers further.
Thursday
You knew Thursday would be better- no aggressive sports, only a leisurely walk with a friend. You had no idea what you were really signing yourself up for and only expected a quick stroll along the fields to clear your mind. You quickly understood when returning with a 11 year old who wanted to call you his girlfriend, and a newfound confusion as to how the word ‘walk’ got lost in translation.
Friday
By Friday you were convinced that the stitch you had from speed walking from RS to music was permanent. A brief remembrance of putting off calling your parents crossed your mind. After almost being deafened by your mother’s, ‘We almost filed a missing persons report!’, down the phone, you received yet another angry email from a teacher demanding late ‘prep’. You hadn’t yet made the connection between ‘prep’ and homework and so had neglected it all together. Everything finally made sense; this was why only 19 out of 20 papier-mâché mountains landed on Mr Mann’s desk.
Saturday
Saturday morning’s ‘congo’ had you wrongly anticipating a recreation of a year 5 birthday party. Your next question of why you had to hold your hymn book up to your nose, had you wondering whether being long sighted would put you at a disadvantage. You couldn’t help but notice the uncanny similarity between Mr Saunders and the conductor on the Vicar of Dibely. Upon getting the giggles, you were publicly shamed by being moved next to one of the teachers.
Sunday
You were raring to go at 6am- up, washed and dressed, ready to fully utilise a day of no school, only to discover that the RHS community didn’t function before 10am on a Sunday. After getting a headache from hours on Minecraft, you were miffed at the idea of attending a compulsory chapel service in the evening. You put on the uniform you had forgotten to put in the wash, and could have sworn your skirt had got longer since Saturday. The prospect of another week similar to this one past, genuinely filled you with dread.
— Don’t fret, it does get better!
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