The Long and Short about Never Giving Up Hope

"Every if you tell me that the person is dead,
I will still believe that I can bring him back to life."
~smartyypants

If there's one thing about me, it's that I embrace a glimmer of hope in even the most dire circumstances. Even when everyone around me is telling me that whatever I do would be rendered useless, I will still go ahead and do it anyway. I will still have hope anyway. I have to. By not deserting hope, it's the only way I can continue believing.

So, anyway, my sister had been 'suffering' an emotional backlash at her new school. Turns out, that MGS girls are really stuck-up, arrogant bitches, who stick to their own clique and exclude everyone else out. (psst, everyone else had the same complaint)

So, my sister decided to enlist all the help she could to get back to her old school. In the midst of everything, there was a lot of differing opinions. Emotional well-being or academic achievements?

Despite everyone's well-meaning advice asking her to stay on, the emotional tug-of-war in my sister's heart could not be ignored.

Finally, on Tuesday, we received news that someone had transferred out of the school, because she couldn't fit into the social environment.

There were a flurry of calls, altercations, and most importantly, a beacon of hope.

A personal trip down to the general office was being drenched in a flood of negative opinions. From "no more incoming applicants on the waiting list allowed" to "even if you speak to the principal, the result will be the same" to "chances are very, very slim, almost none (i.e you can forget about ever coming back this year)."

I remember HER very well. The person that delivered the news. She was a stern, slightly plump middle-aged lady.

We were informed that the chances of my sister getting back into the school were VERY, VERY SLIM, and the vacancy had been filled already, thank you very much.

When we finally left the school, the feeling was like a final nail in the coffin. The flame of hope had been snuffed out right before my sister's eyes. We saw no more hope, and yet we continued hoping...

Undeterred, that night, I decided to write an appeal letter addressed personally to the principal. The letter was heart-breakingly honest, the emotions very raw. When I was done, at the bottom of my letter, I signed off as my mother's name.

When I went down to the school the next day to personally hand in the letter to the principal, the reaction from the staff were less than friendly.

"Didn't we make it VERY clear to you already yesterday?"

"Yes, but I would like to speak to the principal personally please." Inside, I felt like a little kid suppressing guilty feelings for pestering her mum for sweets when it was dinnertime.

"(Annoyed) She's in a meeting right now."

"Okay, then please pass this letter over to her on my behalf, thanks." When the brown envelope left my reluctant hands, there was a sinking feeling in my heart.

Th principal promptly got back to my mum the very next day, and very clearly told my mum that she would give my sister first-hand priority if anyone decided to withdraw from the school.

"Chances are very slim, it's already the second week, it's highly unlikely that anyone would back out of the school now." Inside, the ringing discouragement from the school staff leeched onto my mind.

Everything we had done thus far in our attempt to get my sister back into her old school, was met with a stern NO. Now, this, THIS, if anything at all, was our best excuse for hoping.

A week later, a student was forced to uproot to another country, and withdrew from the school.

----------------------------------

Today, I was at the same location, and I was walking on the same path. But, there was one thing different. My sister is now officially a pupil of the school she loves so much.

And, when the stern, slightly plump middle-aged lady approached my sister with regards to her re-admission to her school, my heart swelled with a kind of triumphant elation.

So did my sister's.