This is a phrase my friend and I coined in quarter three of freshman year and have come back to every quarter since then. And we’ve all been there before. “Next quarter I’m going to bring my chem grade up. Next quarter I’m going to stop procrastinating. Next quarter I’m going to discover a new element on the periodic table and win the Nobel Prize.” Okay, maybe not that last one. 

The arrival of a new quarter tends to foster a feeling of optimism. However, we soon realize that those hopes are bigger than reality. Perhaps this is because we’re all living by the unrealistic expectations that we have to be the captain of three sports teams, leader of six clubs, start a non-profit organization at the ripe age of 17, and get a 1600 on the SAT in the fifth grade. We tell ourselves that it is worth it because unfortunately for a lot of us, our academic performance determines our happiness. 

Recently, I wrote a slam poem in French class about how youth isn’t forever. It got me thinking—if we’re so focused on getting an A on our next Precalc test on transformation matrices (this is in less than a week, and I still have no clue what a matrix is), all while publishing our newest written textbook on particle physics, when will we have time to actually live our lives? We have to stop and ask ourselves: are we really being genuine, or are we trying to check all the boxes we think colleges want to see checked?

When we were younger, we didn’t need to worry about what those around us thought of us. Now, before speaking, a WRONG ANSWER alarm goes off in our heads. When we were younger, we were able to laugh off our mistakes. Now, if we accidentally type in “x2” instead of “^2” into our calculators during our chem tests and get a number that isn’t even close to the correct answer, it feels like the end of the world. We have lost ourselves amid all the societal expectations weighing us down. Someone recently told me that I was hard to talk to, and I took it really personally and started wondering if not talking would make people’s lives easier. It’s like I can no longer be curious because people tell me I have to be intellectual. I play the victim well in my head, but do I really have to listen to those people? 

About a month ago, I asked my amazing French teacher (shoutout to Brankin) what she would name an island if she had the choice. Super intellectual question, right? Well, to all the haters, sorry not sorry. Sue me. I soon realized that after long days of trying to figure out (or pretend to) what the heck a titration curve is, how to multiply matrices, or whether ear height (what even is that? Another question I asked lovely Brankin) increases with age, I didn’t need more things entering my brain, or my singular brain cell would literally fly out of my brain and start running. It felt nice to take a break from pretending to fit the mold of someone a college wanted me to be and instead be curious again. Unintellectual? Maybe. But this was a little step to bring some happiness back (thanks, Brankin!). 

All of this goes to say, be like that one random two-hour snow delay in April—totally unexpected, but a fun, beautiful surprise. 

As we start quarter four, I challenge you to ask yourself what truly makes YOU happy, not colleges. If you want to learn how to juggle while swing dancing, go ahead. If you want to write your Common App essay about that one time you fell off a tree because you thought you could fly, go ahead. You are the author of your own story, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of if you’re not “intellectual” 24/7. In the end, being genuine overrules any A+, any five, and any 1600. Something Brankin once told me last year regarding college was “you think you know what you want but you really don’t”. And that really stuck with me (thanks again, Brankin!). As humans, we strive to know all the answers, but take a moment to reflect: what would happen if we didn’t?