It’s AP season. You’ve just escaped the frozen-over hell we call third quarter. Two endless months stand between you and freedom. As you choke down your grainy energy bar (dinner) and reach for your Celsius, you have one thought: Get me out of here.
It’s a feeling that every South High student has had, and an understandable one—with its demanding workload and high expectations, this school can be a pressure cooker. Media depictions of the all-American high school experience only intensify our distaste for our lives. We dream of romance, of late-night drives, of fun, only for South’s studious mundanity to drag us back into reality. At times, this school seems to be the one thing standing between us and an enviably carefree childhood.
However, in our self-pity, we often forget that there is beauty in the mundane. That we are privileged to worry about extracurriculars. That to stress over AP exams, our school has to offer APs in the first place. And we forget something more important: the all-American high school experience does not exist. It’s tempting to dismiss South High as an academic bubble and conjure up Euphoria-esque images of other schools, but TV sells us distorted depictions of love, drama, and drugs because it needs conflict to further storylines. The typical high school experience is relatively mundane: we do homework, take tests, and make friends. When we realize that high school isn’t meant to be a mini-series—that when we wish for a “normal” all-American high school experience, we wish for something that doesn’t exist—South High no longer seems like such a peculiar scholarly prison. The four years we spend here, while foundational, shouldn’t be mind-blowingly eventful. And all things considered, South High isn’t a bad place to spend these years. There are plenty of valid reasons to criticize our school, but sometimes we forget how many reasons we have to appreciate it.
Perhaps the most glaring strength and weakness of South High is our academic zeal. Our culture revolves around academic achievement, which creates an intensely competitive—and sometimes suffocating—environment. But our academic zeal is also a strength. Competition motivates us to become the best academic versions of ourselves. Because our peers take pride in their work and strive for improvement, we do the same. Hearing someone complain about their 90 can feel comical, but it’s admirable that we care so much when it’s so easy not to. In a world where teenagers are stereotyped as lazy and indifferent, where apathy is often the most comfortable option, it’s kind of incredible that the South High default is to care.
Another South High perk: the funding we receive. We’re located in an incredibly wealthy area, and it shows. We have a newly renovated library, an observatory, a campus bigger than some colleges’, and—this has always shocked me the most—music practice rooms. Every time I begin complaining about our out-of-tune pianos, I’m reminded that we have multiple pianos in the first place, each occupying its own soundproof room. I’ve been to countless Long Island high schools for music-related activities, and none of them have this luxury. Everything about this building makes me very aware that my Californian elementary school’s library was a trailer. We’ve been here so long that it’s easy to take our amenities for granted, but this school really is remarkable.
Between our well-above-average standardized testing scores and picturesque campus, we are an objectively exceptional school. But more than that, our core—our students, teachers, janitors, cafeteria staff, IT team, and so on—are unique for their dedication. Again, it is incredible that South High cares so much. Teachers stay here until sundown; the cafeteria staff knows students by name; janitors put up with us when it’s 7:00 pm and we’re still roaming the halls for one reason or another. South High has issues. This is undeniable. But we are also a diligent, dedicated, singular school, and we don’t remind ourselves of that as much as we should. So the next time you find yourself longing for an escape, remember that in the vast, impersonal world that awaits us, this beacon of enthusiasm is truly unique. And given its transience, we ought to appreciate it while we can.
