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Middle school: that awkward stage filled with insecurities, drama, hormones, and the unmistakable scent of unwashed kids. Back in sixth grade, I thought my middle school experience was a nightmare. The cafeteria food was terrible, and the bathrooms were often in disarray. However, reflecting on it now as a high school junior, I realize that those years were actually the least stressful of my life.
Now at 16, I’ve spent much of this year learning from home, with my bedroom doubling as my classroom. While it has been dull at times, I’ve managed to reconnect with some middle school friends via Instagram. Our chats usually revolve around trivial topics, like whether orange juice or apple juice reigns supreme (I firmly believe orange juice takes the crown). Yet, these conversations also highlight how naïve I was during those years we spent together.
Back in sixth grade, my older brother was a freshman at a prestigious high school that had a reputation for excellence. To gain admission, he had to submit his middle school grades, test scores, and interview with a teacher. With roughly a thousand applicants each year and only a hundred spots available, I wanted to get into that same school, but for all the wrong reasons—I wanted to impress everyone around me.
Throughout middle school, I maintained the highest GPA in my class. I think my good behavior and relationships with teachers played a significant role in my academic success. I even won an athlete award from my PE teacher—not because I was athletic, but simply for being a well-rounded student.
Over time, my grades inflated my ego. Report cards often showed a ranking system, and while my grades fluctuated, I ultimately became the valedictorian. This accomplishment made me feel superior and set me up for a hard dose of reality when I entered my dream high school.
For so long, I had been praised for my intelligence and creativity, believing I excelled in academics and the arts. However, my first class in high school came from a brutally honest engineering teacher who pointed out that we were no longer unique; everyone had stellar middle school records, making us all pretty much the same.
I don’t want to be labeled as dumb or incapable, but I wish someone had told me that I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was during my arrogant middle school days. I inflated my knowledge so much that I failed to see how much I had yet to learn.
I also wish someone had encouraged me to pursue activities I genuinely enjoyed. It pains me to think that I spent my middle school years engaging in pursuits driven by the pressure I placed on myself to maintain a “smart” image. For instance, I was part of the LEGO robotics team, yet I hardly grasped the concepts of building or coding involved.
While it may seem trivial now, I wish I had created a few fun memories from those years. I made the mistake of tying my self-worth to my grades, and when I started receiving Cs and low Bs in high school, my confidence took a hit.
Don’t get me wrong! I’m thankful for the opportunities that have come my way. I’ve adapted to high school life, and things are looking up now. Good grades and being a valedictorian are impressive achievements! However, I can’t shake the feeling of regret about how my intense focus on academics created a wall between me and meaningful friendships and happiness. Achieving valedictorian often comes at a cost, and I feel I sacrificed too much for something that won’t hold much significance in the future.
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In summary, I’m a high school junior reflecting on my middle school years as a valedictorian. While I thought I was excelling, I now see that my focus on grades led to missed opportunities for genuine experiences and friendships. Although I appreciate the chances that have come my way, I regret how much I sacrificed for academic recognition.
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