The Worst Semester of My Life

The life of an IB student is never handled with an easygoing attitude. Yet, after one year of arduous work, this new semester started out…surprisingly normal. Everything seemed...fine? Yeah, fine. Classes weren’t too hard — perhaps I was just desensitized. Assignments, tests, the familiar bickering within Mr. Goussard’s room — eh, nothing new, I told myself. IB year 2? Just a couple of months left. We got this!

But no one can handle the hard truth, not even me.

Put yourself in my shoes as I warp time in reverse for a bit. September was just rolling out when we were already forced to submit our EE draft. Unlike most others, I actually did it in the summer — and by that, I mean I typed about 80% of it the night before orientation day in August. But y’know, what’s a little procrastination when the deadline is literally weeks away?

Alright, a Psych ERQ next week. Sounds chill enough; it’s the only thing I have. Then I flip my calendar to the week after and I realize that our Math IA drafts are due. Not that I even had an introduction typed, but I can get it done sooner or later.

What’s that? A Mandarin reading comprehension? Gee, you really couldn’t have picked a better time, especially with that upcoming Physics test on the day after. And apparently, the other Econ class is warning about a potential pop quiz? Oh, and I can’t forget about that other paragraph we have to write in Psych for Friday. Wait, what do you mean our English Paper 2 is Monday next week? I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.

And soon enough, it was fall break! Like the rest of your life is easy game.

But no one can handle the hard truth — when you’re deep in the game, the grind never stops. One moment you’re relaxing after reworking an entire section of your EE, and the next, your Macbook is wheezing under the abhorrent weight of tabs you’ve opened to prep for that Psych ERQ you have on Wednesday. Your priorities are scattered across the Monopoly board. You have houses in all colors, but no lanes completely owned. And it DEFINITELY doesn’t help when you find out this other assessment will count towards your predicted grade.

October comes and goes, but the spooks of Halloween never end. Your life has already been imprisoned within a monotony of submission after submission — but before that, you’ve gotta get those college apps! Gotta craft the perfect essay while juggling extracurriculars that you’d give a kidney to skip because you’re two days away from your first-ever final IA submission. Next up: a physics test on electricity and magnetism that will make you want to throw your self into a vat of electric eels!

Oh, and don’t worry about sleep! Don’t expect to get much. The one time I was supposed to use my first last-block senior privilege to crash at home early? I was yanked into a special meeting about “intercultural inclusivity.” So. Fun! I returned home to prepare for math — preemptively mourning the grade I knew I’d get. Honestly, I couldn’t even bother to complete that Mandarin assignment anymore. ChatGPT it is. Oh, you’re asking for an extension because you have to manage that other club event as well? That’s cute. Unfortunately, you made your choice long ago.

And so, here I am, battle-worn and boba-addled, looking back — sure, I survived, but at what cost? My sleep schedule now looks like an avant-garde performance piece, my emotional stability is sponsored by depressed dinosaur memes, and my grades? I’d like to think I’ve learned something through it all — maybe how to plan better, prioritize, or, I don’t know, cry with more efficiency. But in reality, all I’ve truly mastered is the art of pretending I have it together with the amount of B’s I see on Powerschool.

But hey, semesters end, grades are submitted, and eventually, so are your university applications. And if nothing else, this whole ordeal has taught me that I can handle almost anything — deadlines, exams, existential crises, you name it. Except, of course, for one thing: the mere mention of another due date.

So, here’s to the next semester. May it be kinder. Or at least come with more dropped blocks. Or potlucks. Preferably both.