Bad poetry

I always thought it a threat

You told me not to fret

But I longed and longed and longed

For God Knows What.

All but my craving disappeared, wronged.

Left me staring at a wall.


My downfall.

Thankful, nonetheless.

It was not a fret.

Should have listened-

Not fret.

Now I only regret.


Group 4 Project – how it all went down and what future students need to know

We’ve been hearing about Group 4 Project fairly often since the start of the year and we officialy bagan the project on the 27th of October 2017, when the first meeting was held. The project’s coordinators, our Biology teachers, introduced us to this year’s theme – FITNESS, and even though not everyone liked it and different propositions were considered, we ultimately decided on the original idea, as it seemed it was fairly easy to come up with an appropriate experiment in this topic  in every Group 4 subject, which couldn’t have been said about the others. After settling on the theme, we chose coordinators among our classmates for each subject as well as the whole of the project, and we gathered in groups of three to four people and thought of potential experiments we could carry out. We were given a set of deadlines and the first one was the middle of December, when we were meant to send our research questions and procedures. Here are some tips for this stage of G4P:

  1. Have at least one person who knows what they’re doing in your group. Trust me, it will come in handy.
  2. Only become a coordinator if you’re motivated enough to remind everyone approximately 3453 times about all the deadlines we missed.
  3. Talk to other groups. If I didn’t overhear one group’s conversation, we’d have two experiments investigating the same thing.
  4. Don’t make your experiments too time-consuming and complicated – G4P is merely supposed to be passed, it’s not graded like IAs.
5. Read IBO’s ethical guidelines. Make sure you don’t harm any animals or use people’s bodily fluids early on. You don’t want to make up a new experiment a week before the deadline.

We were advised multiple times to start our experiments ASAP, but as you may suspect, procrastination took over and some of us were finalising everything weeks after what was supposed to be the official deadline.

A tip for this stage: Get to it ASAP. Honestly. If you wake up too late, possible problems may include:

  1. All the PE teachers already having planned all their lessons weeks in advance,
  2. The PE teachers being annoyed you’re the 34th group who wants to test their students this month,
  3. Your teachers being annoyed with you if you don’t attend their class to do the experiments, because their class is the only time you can all meet up,
  4. There’s  also a 2% chance the teachers won’t wait for you and fail you if you miss the deadline, resulting in your science IAs not being graded. The chance is small, because even though the coordinators threatened us constantly, they never followed them up with them, even if the deadline was missed by weeks. Better safe than sorry though!


After the analyses of all experiments have been sent, we started preparing for the final presentation. Everyone was reluctant to do anything about it, ‘cause we all had more important things to write than a script for some presentation, but ultimately the script was prepared, various other tasks, like preparing the scenography, were assigned, and we were able to start rehearsals days before the presentation.

Tips for this  stage:

  1. When the list of things needed to be done and organised is published, quickly pick something you are capable of doing. Chances are they’ll want to engage everyone in some way and you’ll end up disappointing everyone with your complete lack of manual skills and artistic imagination.
  2. Cooperate with everyone. The sooner everything is perfected (or at least reaches a bearable level), the better!

The presentation was rehearsed, scenography made, invitations sent out, and finally, after seven (ha sit really been that long?) months of intense work came the 23rd of May, the day of G4P Olympics, hosted by our beloved high school!

Representants of four countries – Kingdom of Biology, Republic of Physics, Federation of Chemistry and Democratic People’s Republic of Computer Science – gathered together to compete for gold medals and get interviewed by two  enthusiastic commentators, which is a fancy cover-up of a simple presentation of what each group did for their experiment and what were their results.

Some final tips:

  1. Make sure to remember when to come on stage and not wander off before your presentation.
  2. Ignore the audience (it IS easy) and have fun with your role.
  3. Don’t worry if you stutter or forget what to say for a second, it’s really nothing.
  4. Make sure you remember everyone’s names if you have to thank the teachers.

And, just like that, G4P is over and we can focus on other, scarier things.


Bad poetry



a good cry

in moonlight

is like a dream catcher.

just imagine

the stream on your cheeks

and the silver in your irises

as the moon rises.

the glow on your nose

and how the air flows.


you feel the peace around your neck

restraining though freeing

and slowly disappearing

as you flick the golden speck

off your shoulders and observe

the fairy fly around the curve


and your heart follows but your eyes don’t.


sleep as hard as you want.



really bad poetry

golden leaves have fallen under my feet

dead beauty reminds me of your voice

the pressed flowers are still in my notes

and the notes still tell of us

of the past


the birds no longer sing gleeful tunes

the sky has long been grey

there’re only skeletons on my pathway

and naked trees above my head

you don’t shine no more


the sun is hidden behind the clouds

clouds have frozen in the puddles

as has your heart


and it’s all a before

until spring comes and i’m embraced by her greens

The pre-ib class

Crossing the threshold of 1349 IB World School in Poznan was a major breakthrough. Although during my middle school I had a glimpse of high school life from my elder friends, only little did I realize how my further education would look like. Having entered the school with premises along with aspirations, I was glad to see that this educational institution valued such ambitious students. I found all newly admitted pupils in high spirits, willing to make friends. Even now is the diversity of my new classmates striking, each of us has own interests, opinions as well as abilities. The possibility to combine all this potential, is something that makes pre-IB program so unique. The lessons are led with passion and engagement, which additionally motivates pupils to actively take part in them. Switching from Polish into English language is gradual and does not pose any effort, since the vocabulary is rather familiar and the scientific terms are introduced moderately. No one is excluded from the school society and has right to freely express one’s thoughts as well as beliefs. The material, which is to cover for every student is not complex, requires however unconventional and creative thinking to be handled. Well-equipped library comprising not only Polish textbooks, but also IB ones, can be certainly a substitution for tutors in pre-IB class. The necessity to regard to taboo subjects such as: racism, xenophobia, overpopulation in a form of essay, has definitely made me more understanding and aware of the current affairs in the world. However, these are not the hardest things to cope with in pre-IB class. Selecting subjects for the IB program can be problematic since the choice is so wide. Opting for specific group of subjects also requires some deeper thought about further education as well as hard work to keep up with the material. When I was at the point of choosing the subjects, I numerously changed my decision, on the grounds that I did not want to give up other subjects. The Pre-IB program offers insight into CAS along with TOK, which is not the case in other classes. We write reflections, cover preparational service, ponder over the unclear, present in front of the class, challenge ourselves, which makes us ready for the IB program. I am glad that I decided apply for the pre-IB program and was successfully admitted. I have never learned so much about the world along with its problems and I am thankful for being aware of the contribution we all are able to make.

-a pre-ib student, who decided to remain anonymous

There is something about that place I can feel just by walking past it on my way to work everyday. I never look at it. I never walk inside it. I never observe. I never wonder about what is inside. I only glance at it.

I do it on my way to work, and not think about it for the whole day. I do it when going back home, and doesn’t bother me in my dreams.

It didn’t, at least, until recently.

I live on my own, in a small flat, half an hour away from my workplace. It is of no use for you to know my profession, as I am merely an observer in this story, contrary to what I might have said earlier. An observer, at best. There are some key facts I cannot omit as the happenings, which I am soon to reveal to you, are highly dependent on personal, psychical perception. Therefore, the personal aspect must not be neglected. Like in all stories, there will be bias. I might not be trustworthy, no one can ever absolutely be. But it doesn’t mean any of the things I’m about to say are not true.


I live on my own, in a small flat, half an hour away from my workplace. I do not own a car, nor do I use any form of public transport. I’ve always enjoyed the walk down the street. I’ve always enjoyed looking at the people: at the fancy old ladies in wide brimmed hats and jewellery made of fake pearls bought in a charity shop. At the young girls wearing either too short a skirt or too big a cleavage in their v-necks. At the boys in baggy trousers. And at the old men in checkered button ups and pink sweaters their wives bought for them. There isn’t anyone outstanding here, really. Neither are here such places. Just your old selection of all the basic stores and cafes run by the town folk. No big chain stores, nothing innovative, modern, and therefore nothing controversial, which is what the people here are the most proud of and I guess I was, too.

Not until I noticed that the old bookstore I and no one, really, visited was closed.

First, there was a sign „for sale”. No One cared about it, even when They would stumble and walk into it. Then, there was a truck, nothing written on it, and people came out of it and started unpacking. Even though Everyone was aware of its existence, when asked, No One could recall what it brought to the town.

Everything changed when a little girl mde a scene in the middle of the pavement. Everyone walked around them, as far as they could, respecting the fact that the situation was none of their business. Because it was so crowded, I had to walk closer to the crying girl and her mother. The littler one took that opportunity and upon noticing me, grabbed my hand and stopped me.

Please”, she starts, her eyes watery and big, full of trust in a stranger. „My mummy won’t buy me a lollipop!”

I look at her and then at her mother.

Gosh, I’m so sorry”, says the woman, not really sounding apologetic. „Susie, stop it, this instant.” She catches her child’s arm and starts pulling her away from me, but the girl still holds my arm.

I do not say, or do anything, let the mother do what she thinks will work with her child. But it seems like nothing does and when the girl finally lets go of me, I stumble and fall onto the pavement.

The two females don’t look back at me and rush in their way, leaving me sitting on the ground.

When I get up, my gaze falls on the black windows of the used-to-be-bookstore. I force myself to look back in the direction the woman and the child went in and I see them far in the distance. And I see the girl glancing over her shoulder at me. And I think I see a smile but it could be the hot air bending my sight, creating a mirage.

Bad Poetry

She was not deadly, he told himself sacredly.

Her dark eyes did not hide flames, but they were like ancient remains.

They were fire; filled with energy and desire.

Skin ebony did not burn in hegemony.

The blood boiled in his beloved .

Teeth white, weren’t bared at night.



She smiled.



He was not saint, she said in plaint.

His blues were true, but not like a Jew’s.

They were like the sky in the high; free and in glee.

Skin pale she could trail in detail.

The blood wasn’t divine, but rich like wine.

Golden curls, but he was hers.



He brought her pearls.



Adam and Eve, but they did not believe.

Hell dissaproved and Heaven wasn’t moved.

She knew the apple, and shared it in the chapel.

They tasted the sweet and the deed was complete.

Walked the Earth, she was forced to give birth.

His descend brought an era to an end.



They were condemned.



Because Hell and Heaven can go into oblivion but Love will not be denied.