In one of my final assignments in middle school, I wrote that “armed with determination, optimism, and focus, I’m prepared to take on anything. As a high schooler, I’ll push myself as much as it takes to reach my goals. I believe that if we work hard enough, we can accomplish anything.”
I’ve clung stubbornly to this attitude all throughout high school, reminding myself constantly that hard work will pay off: you get out what you put in. Recently, however, my mindset has wavered.
I would be the first to admit that the workload of junior year has been tough to balance. In addition, the introduction to the college application process has brought an added stressor. While I have held brief conversations about it with my parents in the past, I didn’t realize how much of my life it would consume. The point is this: it’s junior year, and the stakes feel higher than ever before. School is no longer just about learning; it’s also about performing. Competitions of all sorts are not only exciting arenas to put my hard work to test; they feel like crucial opportunities to add a line to my resume.
A week or so ago, I received some tests where I’d performed particularly poorly. On top of school, I was overwhelmed by the high demands of several extracurriculars, and for the first time this year, I went straight home and cried on my bed. I was disappointed with the grades, but even more so, I was frustrated with myself for being disappointed; I was frustrated with myself for not being able to brush off a few bad grades. Every day after school, I would vent to my mom about the toll that junior year was taking on peers; about how my friend had been upset earlier that day with a test grade and how I felt bad because her grade, in reality, was not bad at all; about how it was so unhealthy that students felt the need to obsess over fractional fluctuations in their GPA, for the sake of pleasing colleges. Yet here I was, doing the same exact thing. I knew that my worries were petty and, in the end, not worth stressing about. Still, I felt powerless against the constant strain of schoolwork. It was this, ultimately, that was so upsetting. I resent the feeling of powerlessness. And in the broader scope of things, this resentment transcends just my junior year of high school: if I’m powerless against the stress of junior year as a high schooler, how am I supposed to grow up and be powerful in making a positive impact on the world? I want to be an active, purposeful citizen, yet in low moments, my confidence falters. Just as I feel powerless against the stress of schoolwork, I feel powerless — insufficient — against the daunting global issues that face our generation.
Fortunately, I have slowly begun to understand that this overwhelming feeling of obligation to our world is not unique to me. Meaningful conversations with peers right here in Ardsley, as well as equally stimulating conversations with diverse peers at summer programs and Model UN conferences, have been particularly essential to this realization. While the issues that exist today may be too large for me to solve on my own, they can be much better tackled through teamwork.
Of course, this still leaves a glaring issue: what can we do to better our current situations, to alleviate our current stress?
To be honest, I’m not sure. It is so hard to break free from the demands of society. I, for one, have not yet been successful in doing so. Maybe all we can do is ride it out, bearing in mind that in the end we are team members, not competitors, in a world that demands collaboration.
I do hope, though, that we will at least attempt to set aside the stress of high school when we can. We should do our best to enjoy the present for what it is and to seek exciting, collaborative moments that transcend the classroom. I crave challenging, intellectual experiences on a daily basis, and I know that beneath the thickness of their stress, my peers do, too. Perhaps we can relish class discussions as valuable opportunities to learn, discuss clashing ideas, and collaborate towards resolutions. We can realize that the chance to grapple with complex issues alongside our peers is a gift, and the most valuable reward of our education — not academic perfection.
So, fellow readers, here’s what I think: I feel tired, defeated, and, at times, discouraged, but I am not ready to let my eighth-grade self down. Neither are you. By acknowledging our current situations but not succumbing to what society wants from us, let us realize that graduating with a flawless GPA is not our life’s purpose. By engaging with one another in genuine pursuit of exciting intellectual rigor, let us gain an elevated sense of direction. By embracing the fact that significant change involves the combined hard work of many individuals, let us fight our feeling of powerlessness. Only then might our generation’s true purpose, to join forces in combating the world’s issues, feel just a little less daunting.
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