Wow, so that was it. That was really it. The Matura; at least the written one. In retrospect, I really don’t know what I was so scared of. But to be fair, I wasn’t really anxious before taking that English exam. And tada, proves I didn’t have to. 100 points out of 100. A humble fourth of these (= 25 out of 25) for the actually rather challenging listening comprehension, which exaggerated a little with the fancy British accent, making it almost incomprehensible. Don’t get me wrong, I love the British accent, but it’s undeniably harder to understand than American English. Well anyway, here come the three texts that I wrote, which made for the remaining 75 points.

First, we had to write an argumentative essay of about 350 to 400 words. If you click on the small thumbnail on the left, the task we had to fulfill will emerge in a bigger picture. And as a small bonus, you have the option of reading my texts in the original handwritten versions. It’s much more personal that way.

Family life has always been a core ingredient of a healthy society, for the principle of passing on important values to the next generation seems to be as old as time itself. As time passes, things gradually develop and change, the underlying structures of family life being no exception.Khalil Gibran’s words, clearly addressed at parents, poetically imply that their children should strive to embrace their individuality and live their very own lives instead of mirroring their parents’, assigning the parents a sole task of sheer importance that must not be underestimated: providing their offspring with love and much-needed guidance, all the while leaving enough space for them to grow.

A family only functions as long as all of its members respect their respective responsibilities along with the needs and rights of those who surround them; parents ought to give their children a good example, but they shouldn’t try to create an image of themselves, as Gibran beautifully stated. It is one of the parents’ many challenging jobs to successfully find a good balance between strictness and freedom that they confront their children with, meaning the path they lay out for their children and the one they ultimately and without a doubt wind up choosing for themselves. This is where family becomes a source of conflict[s]; aside from all the benefits it provides, including unconditional love and safety, it is known that children’s or parents’ stubbornness often leads to arguments which consequently poison the atmosphere, but, and this is what is important, not seldom lead to mutual understanding being raised. And, as I previously stated, its dynamic nature allows family life to develop and, eventually, change.

In our modern age it has become increasingly apparent that “family” is an abstract and vague term, merely containing the notion of someone caring for each other, being related, or living together. Where does that leave divorcees, same-sex couples or adopted children, all convincing examples of how vividly and inexorably structures can change? The accompanying picture [see the scanned sheet above] poignantly proves that while marrying and having children might have been the only acceptable standard back in the day, this old tradition has far overstayed its welcome and is now replaced by newer versions of “family”, conveying all the same principles and values - and quite abundantly so - while looking slightly different from the outside.

So is family life a challenge, or rather a golden cage? It is neither, at the same time being both; but, in my opinion, having the privilege of living one’s life with caring people - related or not - with whom you share ties that truly bind and the joy that comes with that definitely outweighs the obstacles one has to face while doing exactly that.

I like that text, actually. I’m proud of it. I’m getting rather abstract at some passages, but overall, I think what I wrote quite sold my liberal views on the topic. Anyway, next up is the second text (a formal letter of complaint), one that should have been shorter. I guess I couldn’t quite restrain myself, which resulted in a text that is a little longer than it ought to have been. As before, you can take a peek at the task that we were asked to perform when clicking on the small thumbnail, which actually contains two tasks. But I’ll talk more about the latter afterwards.

Dear Sir or Madam,I am composing this letter as I’ve just finished watching your highly anticipated show’s premiere [side note: Austria’s Next Topmodel], which I must honestly say left me truly shocked and slightly aggravated.

I am a woman at the age of 46; I am the mother of two precious teenage daughters with whom I usually enjoy watching television. Though as we were watching your falsely acclaimed show I felt the sudden urge of simply turning off the TV just halfway through the show, for what I saw was downright horrible.

Have you realized that out of the many thousands of participants you decided to choose only the ones that obviously looked the skinniest? It shockingly seems as though one of the shallow main criteria to correspond to your slightly unhealthy and unrealistic definition of beauty is extreme slimness; many of the other girls that actually had curves looked naturally gorgeous, but seen as they weren’t even given the chance of properly presenting themselves due to their early dismissal, your show sends out a message that is - in my eyes - just utterly wrong. Young blossoming girls all over the country now got the idea that they are “fat”, albeit being healthy and beautiful girls. Frankly, the overly thin contestants you picked are in no way fitting role-models, who thanks to your program will now badly influence countless young girls, including my daughters.

Have you noticed, by any chance, that your show is severely superficial to an extent that makes it almost unbearable to watch for anyone with realistic expectations of beauty and values that go beyond white teeth and shiny hair? I strongly suggest the judges of your show start to thoroughly look at the whole package and dig deeper, getting to know the girls and their colorful personalities rather than making premature judgments based solely on looks.

And lastly I’d like to say that the insensitive, basically mean way of dismissing girls, thus shattering their obviously biggest dream is not entertaining to watch. Seeing girls cry as they are told they are just not good enough might create drama and boost the ratings, but it is appalling, and you should take that fact into consideration.

Please think about my concerns. I assure you, I’m not the only one having them.

Yours faithfully,
Faye Wyman

I’d make a great concerned middle-aged mom, wouldn’t I? Oh yeah, I definitely would. I’m proud of this letter of complaint, as I was able to use some of the fancy adverbs I so desperately wanted to scatter throughout my Matura. Notice my frequent use of “utterly” throughout all of my texts. I just adore this word so much I want to hug it. It sounds so sophisticated, and yet simple. My oh my, my use of know-it-all adverbs is really obvious, huh? Abundantly, inexorably, poignantly, anyone? Ah, gotta love ‘em. And last but not least, a short story. The weakest text of the three, and the shortest one, too. Take a deep breath and take it all in. (The task is the second one on the scanned sheet above, by the way.)

Once again, he dared to take a brief look into the mirror; quite shyly, as always, for he knew exactly how much he hated this picture that so mercilessly presented itself to him, mocking him. Once again, he spotted wobbling fat where he wished to see these rock-hard abs;  chubby limbs where there should have been strong, masculine arms instead. Hopeless, utterly hopeless, was his search for something - just anything - aesthetic in that callously pitiful image.Of course he knew he shouldn’t have gone to the beach that morning; myriad unrealistically beautiful, tanned male bodies had, once again, made him feel extremely insecure, making him want to escape his skin, his body, all of what he felt was a gruesome trap. If only he had known how.

Suddenly, he felt something rushing through his veins. The abs, the arms; he did want to see them, he did want to finally change. But the mirror wouldn’t show them. His fingers, they trembled; a tear rose and fell over his hot red cheeks. Smash! Once. Smash! Twice. The mirror - gone, his trap - shattered. He knew what he had to do next, and he enjoyed what little exhilaration he got thinking about it. Never again would he allow a mirror to mock him.

Yeah, told you it wasn’t anything special. Although I like the sentence about the hopeless search for something aesthetic in that image in the mirror. For no one knows how to throw in a ‘callously’ just as subtly as I do. Ah, just joking. So that’s it, folks. That was what I produced in five hours of my life [on the 19th of May, 2009], and what consequently and fortunately got me an A. Stay tuned for more Matura craziness. Upcoming: my mostly error-free French Matura (and that was a huge surprise, though a very good one at that) including a translation, my complex Mathematics Matura (in order to revitalize any of mine [and your] underused brain cells responsible for logic and other nonsense like that) and finally, my victorious and glorious German Matura (don’t get your hopes up, it won’t get nominated for a Pulitzer… or will it?). Over and out.