Audrey Bachman is an eighth-grader at MS 51 in Park Slope, Brooklyn.
Last week in Hebrew school, I was sitting with a group of friends who all knew what high school they are going to next year.
They all had such poise.
Because they all knew what schools they were going to, all of the worry and stress for them was gone. But while they were feeling relaxed, I was biting my nails, anticipating this Thursday, March 31, when I’ll hear what school I’m going to.
The New York City high school admissions process is crazy. Two rounds: In the first round, which ends in February, you hear back from specialized schools (Stuyvesant, Bronx Science, Brooklyn Tech, etc.). You can take the specialized test to get into these schools and/or audition for LaGuardia, an arts school. If you’re accepted into a specialized school, then you will also hear back from your regular list of schools. This, according to the Department of Education, is to give a student some time to decide between the two schools you were accepted into. (It also gives the schools a way to figure out how many spaces they have left.) If you are not accepted into any specialized school, the city has no reason to to let you know what regular school you were accepted into, so they make you wait another six weeks. That’s the position I’m in right now.
Being at Hebrew school was just an example of how uncomfortable it is for me to have to be with people who are so confident and happy while I l feel like I don’t know what’s going to happen in my future. Lucky for me, the schools that I want to get into are ones that I haven’t been rejected from. Unlucky for me, I still have to wait to hear while other people get to relax in the feeling of knowing.
I have mixed emotions about being excited for high school. Even though the friends who know what school they’re going to aren’t afraid to show it, they don’t brag. In any case, it’s the adults who ask me most about what high school I got into. And when I tell them I’m still waiting, I can’t help but wonder if they think any differently of me.
My dad told me a story from when he was in a Latin class in high school that he just couldn’t ace. There was always one kid who did well and one day when my dad asked when he studied and for how long, the guy answered, “On the bus this morning.” My dad learned from that experience that when it comes to taking tests, either you are good without trying, or you have to work really hard to do well.
I keep asking myself if I’m the same smart kid I thought I was, and if I’m the same smart kid everyone else thought I was. What does it mean that I didn’t do well on a test? Do the people who know what happened think that I’m not smart anymore? No matter what the answer is, there’s still that unwanted feeling of failure that lingers in the air, whether or not it’s true.
It’s scary to have such strong expectations about something that you really want. No matter how much I want to go to the school I want to go to, I have no idea and no control over what is going to happen. All I know is that come Thursday, there aren’t going to be the people who know and the people who don’t. Instead, everyone will know. The fact is, you’ll either get your first choice, your second choice, and so on — or one that you didn’t want at all. Everyone is going to get into a high school. The scary part is whether or not you get into one that you want.
But when I think about all of this, all this drama and emotion … all for one thing that is determined by some test? What 13-year-old should have to deal with this? The fact that the high school process in New York City is set up in a way that makes some kids feel like losers and some kids feel like winners in the end is not a very good life lesson. In the end, no matter what happens, everything is actually going to be okay. And trust me: I know that’s terribly cheesy in every way possible. But it’s true.
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