A picture speaks a thousand words. So, let these pictures speak to you. These snapshots captured by the Journalism Club members might just impress you, as we take on the challenge of expressing ourselves using more pictures than words.
The last I’ve seen this was years ago.
Now without the shade that was once provided, the tranquility lost through time is what my juniors would not know.
There’s just some sort of beauty in fear, some respect in the face of a force so strong, emanating a darkness that consumes, radiating down the corridors lined with the hungry pigeonholes, caving in, crushing…
Twists, bends, folds. Our school is a maze – having too many options is akin to having none. Navigating the system, we often have to make tough decisions that often lead to some nasty surprises or rude shocks.
Sometimes when we come to a bend in the road, it’s better to take it slow and admire the things around us than just truck on. Take some time to bend down and touch the grass.
You find them where you least expect them to be, lost in the midst of a rapidly evolving concrete jungle.
Bamboo is the world’s fastest growing plant, with a peak rate of 3-5cm per hour. Here several densely packed bamboo shoots grow towards the sky, forming a rich green canopy in the small space opposite the 103 classroom. Life in NUSH demands us to be like bamboo shoots; we must be fast to grow, learn and master new concepts, adverse to changes and quick to adapt. The bamboo shoots provide as much of symbolism to our lives as a favourite hangout place for Y1 students, a truly unique place within the school’s boundaries.
The picture shows the view from the 6th floor. It encompasses the physics labs, CS labs, netball court, senior high classrooms and eco-garden, all visible from that one corner. The dizzying view of the 6-storey concrete drop is complemented by a lush and diverse canopy of trees. To a year 6 student, this represents looking down on all the years that brought them to where they were now: from the comforts of the trees up 6 levels of NUSH life. Truly a place for thoughts.
A colourful display of handprints adorns the back of the relaxation corner, each representing a student’s journey through NUSH. Dating back to 2007, the colours in this display reflect the diversity of each cohort of students, much like the cohorts of students that study here now, their presence and memories leaving an impact on our walls long after their graduation.
Whenever it is twilight, when the sun’s glow is at half its intensity, the art room transforms into its own cinematic atmosphere. Pylons of golden sunlight stream into it via the windows, partly illuminating the empty room. The basic purpose of art is to create something out of nothing, and here the room’s settings itself divert sunlight in such a way that it creates a warm, retrograde room, that one where you would want to spend countless hours sleeping in.
When I was a Y1 student in 2020, the water feature was the big centrepiece of our environment. Sitting right next to 101, 102 and the common study area, with its own open-air square, this concrete ramp with a drainage system would come to life in wet weather, generating its very own fountain. At its base, the intricate mesh wiring shown provides a barrier between the Y1 areas with ambient sunlight and cheerful young students and the sewer systems, dark, stinky and full of unwanted animals, handling the vital water systems that keep us alive. Feel free to look down into the abyss and imagine whatever lies beyond the waters.
Com lab or corridor? This picture is more of a play on perspective than symbolism. Taken from just the right angle to the exterior of the com lab window, the reflectiveness and transparency of the glass perfectly balance each other, creating a picture that seems like an overlay of both places.
Our school at night transforms into a different place entirely. The brightly lit corridors descending into pitch blackness, the classrooms becoming the perfect hiding spots for supernatural entities. Here in the picture, the yellow-orange lights contrast the darkness, like a lighthouse in the endless ocean, the lit areas providing warmth and sanctuary. Beyond the classrooms far down the corridor, two ominous eyes stare straight down into my soul. Darkness is mysterious and unreal, full of creatures that still elude our understanding. In moments like these, life feels unreal.
‘We R Back.’ ‘We were here, we came back, look — this is who we were’
I wasn’t even around when this club was (or at least, I don’t remember) but it’s such a human desire to want to record our history, even when there was nothing but an empty board to serve in memory. :’((
A view that’s provided me comfort on countless days in my five years here, early in the morning on the way to class or on the way home after school, when I leave I’ll miss your companionship, ever empty patch of grass <//3
This was taken from outside the auditorium. It is rather sad that such a nice hexagonal pattern is placed in such a secluded area that barely anyone goes to or passes by. At the same time, I feel like this can be a physical embodiment of how the best things in life are sometimes those that we don’t really pay attention to. If we stop what we’re doing for just a while to explore and discover what goes on, we might find that life is much more interesting than it seems.
The larger leaves on top overshadow the smaller leaves below. While this can be interpreted as mere competition for sunlight, I also feel that this can be interpreted in a more positive way, which is that the larger leaves are helping to shield the smaller leaves from weather conditions, no matter sun or rain. This shows that there are two sides to every story and that every cloud has a silver lining. We should always learn to be optimistic and look on the bright side of things instead of thinking negatively all the time.
These are stepping stones at the eco-garden outside the year 5 classrooms. In life, there will be many obstacles, akin to large boulders blocking our path. The difference between these stepping stones and those gigantic boulders is the way we treat them. Those boulders may obstruct our path, but if we could think creatively and find innovative solutions in trying to overcome such deterrents, we may find that these obstacles are actually things that help us become more resilient. They act as stepping stones in our life, allowing us to become more mature and become better people.
In life, we should never settle for just enough and we should always strive to be better. These stairs represent the process of becoming better. It may seem like a tiring and arduous journey at first, but we should always keep pushing on, no matter how long the road ahead may seem. We should always keep our goal in sight and never lose focus. Eventually, when we actually reach the end of our journey and fulfil our goals, we feel very accomplished and proud of ourselves.
“Life is a marathon, not a sprint.” How true these words are. In life, we all face ups and downs, just like how a runner feels many highs and lows throughout their run. We should all persevere to the end and be resilient, not giving up on things so easily. Even if we fall to our lowest point, we should learn to pick ourselves back up and get back on track. Life is a long-term commitment, and we should not give up easily. Along with that, we should not be complacent. Even if we do succeed at something, success is merely temporary. The true goal is to be consistent and do your best in everything.
I squirm out of the hatched egg. The first thing I see is a towering glass structure. With trees outside. Why would these humans build a barrier to shield themselves from the great nature outside? And accessorise the green grass with tar and a blue Subaru? Despicable. I squirm my first squirm and inch forward. The tears of my proud mother cascade from the sky in a soft drizzle. I am the last batch of eggs she will ever lay. I am her next generation. I must live up to her expectations. She will die right here in a couple of days; I cannot let it be for nothing.
I find leaves. I eat. I grow. Much more than my siblings. Some of them turned all yellow and then shrivelled up and died. Others flourished like me. I wiggle about with many more cares than one would expect a maggot to have. I must be the best. I eat more and get longer with each passing hour. When you have around 700 hours to cherish the Earth, you learn to take it seriously. I lay low and avoid the open – risking the mynahs and bigger beetles and wasps would ruin my life (quite literally I would spend a second fleeing and the next second down their throats).
I mature, I grow even more. And then I inch up the concrete walls of this manmade castle to the rooftop. I feel bold and invincible. No mynahs will get me now (apparently my wisdom decreased as my age increased). I coat myself in my cozy and toasty chrysalis and take in the sights of this world for the last time in my youth. I tuck my head in and completely conceal my beautiful self from the world. I am as insignificant as those yellow balls in the field. Unmoving, lonely and extremely small compared to the big wide world around me. But I am in my own world. I am changing.
But no! No! No No NO! My wings do not form. They are not coming out. I am trapped in this dark and lonely cocoon and left to rot and die. I have failed my life goal. I have failed my mother. My 28-day life’s expectations have gone down the drain. All I ever was, was a waste of energy for my mother to lay me in an extra egg. I close my failed beady maggot eyes and try not to resist as my respiratory apparatus fails like me. I choke on tears and disappointment and the lack of oxygen. And in my mind, I see the fly I could have been. Not just a failed maggot. An intricately beautiful and unique fly. Like my mother.
I gasp awake as a pair of antennae tickle my beady eyes. My mother. She floats before me, beckoning me to follow her with one of her six legs. I proceed forward and dramatically gasp again. I have wings. I do! Huge glistening golden ones. I am an adult! I am alive, I have survived… Wait. I look at my mother again. She is barely there. Apart from seeing her I cannot physically feel her thorax when I reach out to touch her. I do the same for myself and feel nothing. And then it hits me. I am dead. I am a fly spirit. My mother must have died too and been reunited with me. Now my failure hurts much less.
I grasp my mother’s bony leg with one of mine and we glide up into the cloudy, mystical sky.