A/n: As part of my holiday gift to you, I decided to write a mini-fic on the pressures of school from Hermione's point of view. Although it may seem that I don't like Hermione that much, I really relate to her more than any other character. I understand all that academic torture; I have experienced all the pressure to get good grades in order to keep my reputation at a healthy level. This is for anyone who has gone through similar experiences or wonders about them. Enjoy! (^_^)
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"So, stop by the library tomorrow, if you have a chance," I said to Ron as I left the Gryffindor common room.
"Right, I'll try to come by your room tomorrow."
Confused, thinking he hadn't understood, I corrected him, "No, no--to the library. I'll be there doing work."
"I know, Hermione. The library is your home."
He had understood. I nodded, sighing. "Ah, yes."
Indeed the library was my second home. I spent practically as much time pouring liquid caffeine down my throat, scratching away at my scrolls, making to-do lists, downing my final cup at an ungodly hour, as I did eating and sleeping in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory. Even from the very beginning, when I was a tiny First Year, I made a commitment to myself to excel in school. With that promise, I unknowingly signed a pact with the caffeine devil to always work harder, strive for less sleep, and to never be quite satisfied with the final of final drafts.
Sure, I wanted good marks. Certainly, I was determined to work for them. But my motivation wasn't so simple. I made a decision to do whatever it took to be an above average (highly above average, actually) because I believed that my dwindling confidence resulted from my dwindling grades. I had always said that I could get the grades if I wanted them, but that I just didn't care enough. For a while, I believed this. I knew I was smart; I didn't need grades to tell me I was intelligent…Or did I? Do I now?
At some point, I began to doubt my assertions. Could I really make the marks? The NEWTS seemed so near, yet so far away. I have to prove to myself that I can…and I will. So I test myself, learning to measure my self-worth by the penned letters on the very bottom of my scrolls. Every assignment turned into an evaluation of my intelligence, my self-discipline, my personal value. School is, after all, my work. Grades are my compensation.
The pressure was always there, always behind me, watching over me like some evil shadow. It will continue to follow me until I finish my Years at Hogwarts. That is a long time to wait for the shadow to pass… I can feel it as I sit in classes, head propped up with limp hands, the only thing standing between myself and total unconsciousness on the desk.
Is it possible to sleep while awake? I'm sure I've done it many times by now. When I think about the time, it passes more slowly than ever, torturing me with every crawling second. I can't concentrate on Herbology or the great history behind Merlin the Great. I have to study for the NEWTS when I get back to the dorms, and I have to write a 5-foot scroll for Arithmancy, oh, and that report on Socrates is due soon. My gosh, was today the day I promised to meet Harry and Ron at Hogsmeade?
It builds slowly. Teachers thought I was immune. Many didn't sympathize at all; take Snape for example. He could care less if I was too tired to write that scroll on the newest morphing potion he lectured about today in class. McGonagall tried a little: "Are you all right?" she asked. I think she started to notice the constant bags under my eyes. Another thing to add to my to-do list: come up with a concealer spell.
Just keep up the façade, keep your nose to the grindstone, don't think, don't eat, just work. Maybe if you don't pause, you won't fall apart…
A few weeks ago I worked myself into an illness; then I missed almost a full week of classes. Madam Pomfrey's healing charms worked wonderfully, but still, the toll is taken quietly, softly. Most other students don't even notice because they are so wrapped up in their own agendas. The eyes lose a bit of light. The mouth turns down at the corners. In general, the face looks drawn, worried, stressed. Smiles occur far less frequently.
Just keep it up, keep playing, stay in the damned game. Smile, laugh, do what you have to do. Keep the façade going; people won't notice the difference between a grimace and a giggle.
Ron and Harry were concerned for me. "You need to relax, Hermione," they keep telling me. "You're driving yourself crazy." But the truth is, they were even worse. They stayed up even later. Harry goes to bed at around 11, wakes up at 2 to study, sleeps for another hour, gets up to finish Transfiguration, sleeps until 6, then wakes up and does anymore leftover homework. Tell me, can this be healthy?
Smile, laugh, keep the gears running. And be sure to watch your weight, no more chocolate. Funny how everyone thinks my life is perfect. Funny how the cracks in it just don't seem to show…
What difference does 20, 30 more points on the NEWTs mean, anyway? Will life be ruined if I don't get the perfect score?
Failure, always so close. Oh no, can't pause--Potions scroll to complete.
"Just how late are you staying up, Hermione? You really should get some sleep."
"Good night, Angelina, don't worry about me. I'll go to bed soon."
Three hours later, I crawl into bed, barely able to find it in the darkness.
All you have to do is keep the pressure at bay. Just keep it one step behind you, and you'll be fine. Make sure it doesn't get to you, otherwise you'll explode. "Work a little harder, it'll all pay off in the end." Wasn't that Mother's motto? You'll live through this. Heard Seventh Year was a breeze…
I sit at my desk in the dormitory, procrastinating over my Transfiguration scroll. I have to hand it in after the too-short break. The heavy Transfiguration encyclopedia and Potions study guide I bought right before school started stare at me from the corner of my room. These books (as well as many others) have become my life without my consent. I always assumed my teenage years would be carefree, full of fun and excitement. At certain times they are, but it has become difficult to enjoy the vacations, the breaks. There is something constantly hanging over me. The worst part is that I have no one to blame for my lack of fun and overwhelming abundance of stress. I completely put it on myself.
Sometimes when I speak to a few other girls in the dorm, they never seem to have as much work to do. Some even poke fun at me for studying as much as I do, and for always being so paranoid. But I honestly cannot help feeling the stress. I can't stop putting it upon myself. It's a destructive habit, but at the same time I can't help it. Like that old saying that one can't help seeing beauty as one stares into the eyes of a cobra? Even though you're facing death, you're still drawn to it, drawn to the invisible force that pulls you away from society and further into its isolated grip.
But who is to blame for my pain and suffering if not myself? Is it my teachers for giving me endless hours of homework? Is it society for trying to ruin my life? Or is it me for letting all these people and establishments get to me, and for taking it way too far? When it comes down to it all I put the stress on myself. I worry about how others are doing. What their NEWT scores will be like, who their mentor is, what marks they have now. I constantly worry that I am behind and try to run (sometimes too quickly) to catch up. The more I think about it, the more the speed is both difficult and unnecessary.
But there are no shortcuts, only one way down. And at some point I'm just going to have to face the reality: I'm going to make it. Either that or I die trying. Somehow, I prefer the first choice, but more than often I think I'm going to end up in the second category…
[short little thing. very true, to me. Just keep breathing, do what you have to do to survive. Drink caffeine like it's water, keep up, you're falling behind…don't I know it. any thoughts on this mini-fic? Just click that little button that says 'review' and talk away!]
[jade]
