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writing 1G 18 01

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The first time I’ve virtually gone mad
A circumspect unnerved nine-grader called Ann(btw it’s me, hi there) woke up early(too early I should
say) at night, lied several hours in the bed, scrutinizing the dark ceiling. It was the first time I’ve ever
taken a significant olympiad. After the alarm’s ring I got up, got ready as quickly as possible, and went
straight to one of the Moscow schools, the place where I had to take it.
Nothing really weird should have happened for I had been swotting up on that olympiad(it was NOT a
nightmare, I was eager to do it) for months. But… The way it actually turned out became somewhat
traumatic experience for me. I’ve got a vivid recollection of the arts’ history classroom, a bunch of other
students(most of them wearing shirts and glasses), my chocolate bar and coffee mug on the desk, and…
The tasks!! As I opened it, EVERYTHING I learned before vanished into thin air, I thought:”It is not,
NOT the things I’ve been preparing to!!”. The pens were squeaking, those focused smarties were leafing
through one page, two pages…And there was me, who desperately tried to concentrate and not to go mad
looking at the clock.
I remember that I got relieved when I’ve solved(or kinda sloved) several problems. However, the
moment I left the classroom I recalled just ALL THE THINGS I’d done wrong, the ones I’d forgotten to
mention, the tasks where I’d made typos, etc. I felt distraught , remorseful and hysterical as if it’d been
the end of the world(btw the tasks were really hard that year, I wasn’t the only one being overawed). All
in all, ironically, I somehow became the prizer of that olympiad.
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