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Judiciously applying oneself to the HSC - the latest urban myth

By Richard Glover
SMH, July 9, 2005

For the HSC, Batboy is studying English, history, German and a practical unit called procrastination. It's a hands-on course, with students required to show they can come up with endless excuses for not studying their other subjects. Batboy is already showing an excellent grasp of the basic principles.

He's brewing beer, playing squash, walking the dog, and talking intensely to friends. He's suddenly got a thousand activities. He'll do anything as long as it's not studying.
He's not the only one. Our once-sleepy neighbourhood is ablaze with activity. The closer we get to the HSC, the more we are witnessing a cultural and sporting renaissance. One student has discovered a love of swimming - he walks to the pool, swims 20 laps, and then walks back home. He's fitter than he's ever been. If he takes the long way home, he can draw out the process to last most of the morning.

One girl, according to her mother, has discovered the joys of cleaning her own bedroom. So keen is she to avoid extension English, she's repacked all her clothes, wiped down all the shelves and vacuumed the blinds. After 17 years of slovenly behaviour, she now has the neatest room in the house.

A group of the boys has formed a vegetable growing club, specialising in the competitive farming of chillies. No, really: chillies. When the aim is avoiding HSC study, no activity is too bizarre or too obscure.

Batboy has his beer-brewing and his chilli-farming, but there is still a risk that a few hours might be available for study, especially during the morning. That's why he's developed a sudden interest in reading The Sydney Morning Herald.

For years, I've tried to push him towards the newspaper, hoping he might develop an interest in current affairs. For years, he's rolled his eyes, and mouthed the word "boring". Now, suddenly, under the gun of the HSC, he can't get enough of it. One morning this week, he read it for two hours straight - even enduring several pieces about Australian politics.

Maybe this is the real power of the HSC: it promises to create the citizens of the future, and indeed it does - out of their very desperation to avoid the official curriculum. They'll do anything to get out of paying proper attention to their HSC, even becoming well-rounded, sociable citizens.

For the first time in living memory, they debate politics, play tennis and go jogging. No longer do they shrug and mumble when asked about their day. When their only alternative is study, they can think of nothing more delightful than leaning against the kitchen bench, chatting endlessly to their parents.

One boy last week even offered to cook dinner for the family. His mother, as you might imagine, is still being treated for traumatic shock.

Yet even the most practised procrastinators will finally run out of excuses. Midway through this week, Batboy and friends discovered that this time had come. They had ridden the boundaries of their chilli-farms, chatted endlessly to their parents, and tidied their bedrooms. Their beer-brews were happily fermenting. They had read the Herald, even unto the arts pages.
With a jolt of panic, they realised that ahead stretched two or three hours during which it was technically possible for them to study.

It was a nasty couple of minutes before one of the crew had the realisation: they had yet to organise their accommodation for schoolies week. Phew. Crisis averted. Organising schoolies week, if done properly, can take days - no, weeks - to achieve. Which town to visit? Where to stay? And how to talk parents into paying over a bond which has so little chance of ever being returned?

Batboy and his friends settled down to the task, while Jocasta nervously eyed the calendar.
"So this is the next few months," said Jocasta, as the boys organised their trip. "He procrastinates with his friends, while I stare at the calendar, getting uptight on his behalf. And what happens at the end of this process? He gets to go off on schoolies, and I get to keep working. How fair is that?"

Jocasta rocked back against the fridge, and looked wistfully into the middle distance. "You know what we need? A schoolies week for the mothers. As a reward for all we've been through. Straight after the exams. Somewhere inland, while all the 18-year-olds are at the coast. Somewhere with plenty of wine. And massages. I think the Hunter Valley would be perfect."

Ever since this moment, the mood has been hectic, as Batboy and friends argue about which town they should subject to their invasion, while Jocasta rings around to see if she can find any other takers for her schoolies week for mums.

That's what I like about the HSC. It leaves everyone so focused.