Self-reflection has never been my strong suit; the stacks of unfinished diaries around my house are proof enough. Still, sitting here with three remaining days of school and a mountain of swirling thoughts, I’ve vowed to at least try to capture the laughter, sweat, and tears that made up my four years at RM.
It would be a lie to say there was no pressure. Thrust into a class of the most brilliant people I’d ever met, the competition felt intense at best and crushing at worst. Despite the constant pressure and comparisons, I’d like to think that I’ve emerged stronger, with a tougher shell. School isn’t the swim-or-sink battle it’s often made out to be—for every failed test or sleepless night, I’ve leaned on the kindness my friends have offered.
And as much as I bemoan the torturous experience that is IB, it taught me to write, to think, and to appreciate the humanities. Though IB may seem pointless at times (as it often did for me), I found something valuable in taking on a challenge solely for its own sake. There truly is no better preparation for college and the Adult World™, something I’ve heard over and over from teachers. Beyond the eyebags and mint addiction, IB has left a permanent mark on my life for the better.
Perhaps my takeaway from my four years is this: there is no shortcut. There is no magic routine or mindset that transforms your life into the productive, idealized version that you see online. High school is what you make of it; if you have an aspiration, work toward it starting from your everyday actions. This is a comfort, too—knowing there are bumpy times ahead, you might as well do your best and enjoy the ride.
Like everyone else, I have regrets. I regret staying up until 4 a.m. reading manhwas on school nights, and I wish I sought out deeper connections with teachers and upperclassmen. But something I’ll never regret about RM is the people. From Ding Tea runs to impromptu after-school pickleball, my happy memories extend far and wide. I loved the mundane too, whether taking scenic routes in the language hallway or going on daily BR adventures. Though I don’t recall what tests my friends and I were agonizing over, I can still picture our grins and hear our cackles echoing down the halls. I feel so lucky to be surrounded by the people who made RM my second home.
To my friends, you are the Mane Six to my Twilight Sparkle. Thank you for keeping me grounded and inspiring me to be my genuine self; I would not be at school without you (no, seriously). To my teachers, thank you for showing me compassion again and again, and teaching me to care for the world. A final thank you to my mom, dad, and brother for being my anchor and lighthouse through it all. (Though my recollection of freshman-year-me is blurry, I’m sure she would be shocked by the amount of late-night existential crises.)
And to the next squad of scraggly freshmen who claim the first floor hallway as their home—I hope RM is just as much a whirlwind of joy for you as it was for me.
