It’s May and high school is nearly over. In these final weeks at Brookline High School, I’ve been thinking a lot about my time here, about what I’ve learned, about the person I’ve become, and so I wanted to compile some of my thoughts here in a final column.

My experience at the high school was, in the foremost sense, stressful. The classes were hard, the workload was intense, and starting junior year, school became an all-consuming, mentally and physically exhausting endeavor. Most days I woke up exhausted, stressed and miserable at the thought of going back to school. I got little sleep, and much of the time, I was unhappy; I hated the perpetual feeling of stress about an upcoming test, or so many overdue assignments, or a looming essay to write. I felt trapped in this constant state of worry, and I felt like a lot of the teachers didn’t always fully understand how much they were asking of us. People would tell us all the time that grades aren’t everything, or that it was our own choice to be taking this AP class – a choice that we didn’t have to make. And while these assurances are true – in a sense – at a place like the high school, they’re a little bit out of touch.

Brookline has a particularly competitive and elite academic culture. There’s a pressure to succeed here, to always be thinking about how your every move will affect your future. It’s a pressure that’s exhausting and hard to escape. It’s a pressure that never really goes away by teachers telling us not to worry so much, all while piling more and more work onto us.

Supposedly, I came out of all this stress on the good side. I got good grades and I’m going to my “dream school.” I look back on all the work I did and I guess it “paid off.” But was it all worth it? I think I might have lost something in that period of all-consuming work that I can’t get back. It wore me down in a way that getting into a good school doesn’t entirely heal or justify. I wonder sometimes what I’ve learned, what will stick with me and what I’ve gained that I feel was truly worth my time and relentless, painstaking effort.

On a certain level, I feel like I’ve gotten dumber through the years here. I used to think about things all the time; I would watch what happened around me, I would read something in a book or learn it in a class, and I would take it with me – turn it over in my mind and analyze it until I formed my own opinion. Sometimes I would write things down – not to turn in or show to anyone – but just for myself, to have a record of my own thoughts, to develop and organize my ideas. But junior year I stopped doing that. There was no time to think. I could only do. I spent all my time on busy work that got me good grades, but simultaneously made my brain less sharp and my critical eye more fuzzy.

I learned, while I was here, how to work the system. Everyone who wanted to be successful had to. At the high school, in hard classes, it’s really not possible to do one hundred percent of the work that gets assigned. I learned to know what homework to skip, which assignments not to try on and tests not to study for, and which classes to spend doing work for other classes. And sometimes, the places where I had to skimp were the subjects and tasks that I was most interested in. The worst part about the competitive culture here is the way it ranks classes, assignments and ways of thinking. The system dictates what merits a student’s care and effort, and subsequently, it stifles genuine passions and creativity.

The reality is, at the high school, you get no quantitative benefit from offering an insightful comment in a class discussion, or thinking critically about the class material or even trying to learn things in a way that will last beyond next week’s test. There is no incentive to think in a way that will truly grow your mind, and thus with so much work pressing at all times, there is no time to do so.

The honors classes, in the end, suppress individuality, and at the same time, heighten inequity. After four years of being in the “harder classes,” I’ve come to understand that the kids that end up there aren’t necessarily the smarter, eager-to-learn students. They are just kids who have always thought of themselves as good students, who therefore think they belong in the more advanced classes. These classes are overwhelmingly white and Asian. Clearly, the public schools of Brookline have not made all students feel like they belong in advanced classes. The high school does an injustice to Black and Latinx students by not doing more to place them in honors classes, and perhaps, it does an injustice to all of us by creating these honors classes in the first place.

Unlike most people I’ve discussed this with, I am for the deleveling that’s in the process at the high school, because I’ve learned that succeeding in an honors class here is not really about how smart you are, but rather how much time you’re able to put in. Getting As in honors classes is largely a matter of going home and committing to hour after hour of homework. I often thought last year, while poring over piles of schoolwork, about how nearly impossible succeeding would be if I had other responsibilities – if I had siblings to take care of or a job to work to help out my family. And thus I think this system leaves behind brilliant, underprivileged kids – it makes them feel that they can’t handle the workload and are better off in a “slower paced” class, and ultimately, there’s little reward for true, raw intelligence.

This year, as the high school has considered deleveling ninth grade, I’ve discussed the topic a lot with other students. And I’ve walked away hurt by the perspectives of my high-achieving, usually progressive peers. It feels like many people don’t like a move that will curb disparities because they think it will harm their chances at top colleges. And it is the academic culture at the high school, and perhaps more broadly in America, that promotes these cut-throat, everyone-for-themselves priorities. It is a culture that makes me sad; that I feel relieved to leave behind.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately, as I get ready to leave for college, about who I want to be. As seniors, we’re in this unique and interesting position where we get to craft our identities from the ground up. We can go out into the world and meet new people and be whoever we want to be. And I’ve been thinking about what I want to take with me. Despite any of the negatives, there was so much at the high school that was beautiful. I’ve found community in so many different places here, particularly on my cross country and track team. I’ve learned here how to voice my opinions, and ultimately I’ve discovered my purpose. I started this column at the beginning of my junior year, amidst so much other work to be done, because I was interested in gender and identity, because I liked to try to understand why people act the way they do and because I had a lot to say – but perhaps more so, because I had a lot of questions to ask.

I want to take that curiosity with me when I leave the high school. And I also hope that I’ve left some of it behind. This column has taught me so much; it has prompted me to think and search for answers – not as concrete resolutions, but rather as probing suggestions. I hope that, even if in small ways, my thoughts have stuck with other people and have prompted conversations.

My advice to younger BHS students: try to seek that conversation. Seek the thing that makes you excited, even if it seems like the academic culture here may deem it less important. To future Cypress writers: find a way to push beyond the rules and structures. Be creative and ambitious in your writing, seek something groundbreaking, and push back when people tell you no. I’ve found that that fulfillment is as important as any grade you’ll ever get.