Today my mom asked me if I have been feeling stressed lately, because I apparently looked a little tired. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes, I am so stressed. Ugh.
Since the beginning of the school year, most of my classes have been leading up to these two weeks: the AP weeks. So, naturally, I’ve put a bunch of pressure on myself for doing well, or at least pass my exams for God’s sake.
If my grade depended on them, I’d probably not care as much, ironically. If they counted towards my grade, I could at least try to do well for the rest of the year to make up for it. But if I do badly on my APs, there is literally nothing I can do about it. So no pressure!
It’s not like doing well on those exams could determine whether or not my dream college finds me worthy of being admitted. It’s not like passing them could mean I wouldn’t have to take a bunch of classes in college, which could possibly save a ton of money AND nerves. No pressure at all!
Well, at least there are about 180,000 other students living this nightmare with me, and at least I still have time to watch The Great British Baking Show now and then, and at least I now have an excuse to wear sweatpants to school. This all is definitely a struggle, but it could be worse.
(That still doesn’t mean I’m not stressed though…)
That 89 percent that could have been a 90 percent is not going to matter to you in five years, believe it or not. I can’t even fathom how often the sentence “but it will look good for college apps,” is heard yearly on a high school campus. Are these four years what define us as humans? I sure hope that’s not the case because I’m so much more than a percentage.
High school is such a small portion of our lives when you really think about it. These four years are all that matter to you right now, but are they all that’s going to matter in ten? What about when our kids go to school? Will that B- you got in geometry matter then? We work so hard to be judged by our performance rather than our person.
What are schools teaching about being a good human? What about how to do our own taxes? Nope, sorry that’s not taught here. I can recite the Pythagorean theorem basically in my sleep, and tell you the difference between an acid and a base; but what about the values of honesty and kindness? Isn’t this all a practice run anyways? Aren’t we being trained for “The Real World”? I’ve only been told that exact statement once or a million times.
Kids these days are on anxiety medications for the amount of stress they’re put under. We run ourselves into the ground for what? To be judged some more? We are expected to put our education before personal health. It is not asked, but expected. We must do whatever it takes to succeed.
Right now I am taking a break from analyzing my interview notes and filling the gaps in my history knowledge to speak about finals.
This is the first time I have felt really concerned about every. single. one. of my finals. I am on the border of A/B in all of my classes and these finals could mean the difference between going to the college I have had my eyes on, Northeastern, and losing this option forever.
This is a huge pressure on me and I am concerned with what the results might be.
History is one of my strong points and I have been studying, but there are definite gaps in my knowledge.
Journalism has been kicking my butt all year. We have one last article to write before the end of the year and the final grades. This has me very stressed about my grade.
English is something that I am not very nervous about due to my knowledge of the material being tested.
Calculus. Oh god. Calculus is going to be a nightmare. I am going to have to ace this final to oblivion to even consider an A. I have been studying a lot and am planning on going to the 2 and a half hour study session for extra review.
Physics is one of my stronger points and I am actually excited to take the final and I am prepared for it.
Finals should be… Interesting.
Now back to Writing the Journalism final that I have been dreading.
For those of you who don’t know, I wrote a blog a little while ago called “My Best Friend.” The subject of the blog is my horse, Time, who is indeed my best friend. He listens to me, whether he wants to or not, and doesn’t pass judgment.
A couple weeks ago, Time and I participated in a Don Sachey clinic. It was extremely fun, and also very frustrating.
My horse does this thing sometimes, where he locks his neck and basically makes it impossible for me to do anything with him.
It makes me want to stomp my feet and scream. Almost like I’m four years old again.
But that’s beside the point. Riding has always been an escape for me, a time when I don’t have to face the reality that is everyday life. I’ve been riding since I was two, and my dream has always been to go the Olympics with it.
WIth those kind of dreams, it’s hard to escape the pressure that accompanies them.
Pressure and time create beautiful diamonds from lumps of coal.
Elements are created from the reactions within stars.
Hydrogen becomes helium through chaotic explosions that leave heat and fire in their path.
The heavier elements get compressed more and more into the center of the giant ball of gases to the point where they want to break out and explode across the universe sending bits and pieces flying. All of the elements come from this process even the very carbon in our bodies.
People are a lot like elements. We collide in different ways. We create changes in the people we meet. There is sometimes friction and violence. People go to war over land, honor, and the god they believe in. They gravitate towards each other like the heavier elements do. They explore out over the world and the universe. Time and pressure push us together. We collide like celestial bodies in space or world superpowers on the brink of war. We are like the carbon that makes us up. We like to think that the rules that govern the rest of the universe don’t apply to us. But we are no more special to the universe than the stars that crated us.
Only the buzz of a the car rolling on the freeway.
Above her head, black expanse broken by the single, flickering light of a plane.
That was the first time she ever truly wished she could run, escape. Get out of this stuffy car. Away from all of the stress and pressure. To find Some reprieve, Some momentary peace, Somewhere far away.
If only she could be on that plane that was slowly crossing the night sky. If only she could switch lives with the driver that drove parallel to the car she was in. If she could leave…if. If.
Oh, and how she wanted to SCREAM. It seemed sometimes that was the only way to keep her sanity. To scream. But she could not.
She couldn’t bear telling her father, who was sitting behind the wheel. No, that would break his heart. He didn’t need to know. Nobody needs to know.
So, muffled, in her thoughts, she was screaming. Her eyes silently staring ahead.
Miles to go until she got to her destination.
And miles to go until she could start living her life like she wants to.
It’s gross, I know, but strangely stress relieving. Weird. Funny thing is, I hate looking at other people biting their own nails!
I had stopped the habit sometime last week but with the SAT just yesterday, I began to bite. I’m still biting because it’s very hard to stop once I’ve begun but I will try in order to let them grow and look prim for prom!
I don’t suppose I will be able to completely put an end to the habit until I get into colleges next year. Until then, I will battle the habit, temporarily stopping just to go back to biting again.