6. Prep

At the end of the school day, I say goodbye to the day girls in my form. They go home to their families and we boarders pile into the dining room for tea. After tea, it’s time for chapel, then prep. Short for preparation I think, but basically it’s homework time. We have to do it in the library, in complete silence and we are supervised by a teacher or a prefect.

I’m so bored. I loathe prep. I detest the silence and the feeling of being watched. At the slightest murmur or fidget I hear “Sophie Boss, concentrate” or “Sophie Boss, stop talking” or “Sophie Boss, if I have to tell you again…”.

I could do my homework properly I suppose, but I’m reasonably bright and not very conscientious or ambitious, so I get it done quickly. It’s slapdash and I definitely could do better if I tried harder but I don’t care about trying harder. I can’t see the point and it’s all so boring. Latin verbs and Chaucer and fractions.

I’d rather not be in prep and I’d rather not be at boarding school. I have no idea what I'd rather be doing that I might actually enjoy but doing anyting else is not an option. I have to go to prep every single day, even on Saturdays. I wish I could do my homework sitting on the floor in my bedroom, listening to loud music. I wish I could do my homework sitting at the Chiesetta in Monticelli, under the shade of the pine trees, my favourite place in the whole world. I wish I could do my homework anywhere but this stuffy, boring library being watched all the time and chided every time I breathe.

I whisper and fidget and get into trouble. To ease the boredom, I spend some of the time writing in my diary. I have decided that I will write in it every day and I am adressing it to my mother. A letter to my mother every day that she won't ever read. I can't send her an actual letter every day, even if I wanted to it would be checked and I'd have to be careful what I write. So these will be my uncensored letters. I will decide who sees them. I address each entry to Michelle. Maybe I’ll show it to her when I go home for half term. I don't know. Maybe not.

Entry from my diary - [sic erat scriptum]

My intentions are good but my commitment is poor and I only write once in a while. The tone of my entries doesn’t change for the first few months. I long to go home.

One weekend I go to my guardians' house for exeat. My guardians are Penny and John. John is a very tall, imposing man. A British Airways pilot and an alcoholic. I find him utterly terrifying but I think he means to be kind. I'm crying when he comes in to say goodnight. He asks me what the matter is and I tell him.

"I hate boarding school. I miss home. I want to go back to Paris, back to Marymount. I want to live with mummy and daddy and Audrey. They said I could go home if I didn't like it and I don't. I don't like it at all"

"Oh dear" he says kindly. "That won't do. I'll talk to your parents. I'm sure you can go back to Paris if they said so. Leave it with me. I'll talk to them and explain".

I am full of hope. If John talks to them, I'm sure they will agree. And they do. They say I can't go back straight away, I have to wait until the end of the school year because otherwise there won't be a school for me to go to in Paris. But I can leave in June, at the end of the summer term if I want to. I am so relieved. I'm so happy I don't have to stay here forever.

And then, on a weekend in February my parents come to England for a visit. We stay at my guardians' house all together. During the course of the weekend, I seem to accept that I won’t be living in Paris again. My parents and guardian are persuasive and I don’t want to let them down. I want them to be proud of me.

Entry from my diary, written in turquoise ink - [sic erat scriptum]

So I am stuck at Oakdene and I am stuck doing prep in the library. One day I will be the prefect supervising it, and it won't make it any better.

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I live with greater ease with my internal contradictions these days. The part of me that resists doing what I am told. The part that is allergic to being watched and controlled and the part that struggles to disappoint and be disapproved of. This paradox causes me problems and I often feel conflicted. Do what I want and risk disapproval or do what others want and feel angry and stuck.

Over the years I have exercised my autonomy muscle to the point of burn out! I have been very creative in my efforts to do what I want while avoiding disapproval at all costs. This contortionism has caused me a lot of pain. It has required so much effort. Eventually (better late than never) I worked out that people's disapproval or disappointment is ok. I can live with it. It hurts less than my own frustration and resentment. I've even learned to surrender sometimes and do what people expect beacuse I want to please them, but I do it on purpose, deliberately, always knowing that I can say no as well as yes. It feels good not to be stuck, to have choice. I think that's what I hated most about prep and boarding school in general, the lack of choice. The complete and utter stuckness, for years and years.

I have not been able to remember the day when I changed my mind and agreed to stay at school. I don't recall any conversations about it with my parents. I guess they must have taken place given my diary entry. And I can well imagine how diffiuclt I would have found it to insist or to plead. That was not my MO. I would have all too easily capitualted and acquiesced. They wanted me to stay, so I agreed and stayed. I knew better than to be difficult or needy. I did what I had to do to be approved of.