I’m sitting in the backseat of my parents’ car, with the collar of my flannel soaked with tears.
My parents dragged me to a college consultant for a 30 minute session. (‘Dragged’ sounds forced but don’t get me wrong, I appreciated their action.) They were never strict with my grades and school like most of my friends’ parents. As long as we (the kids) were trying their best and had good morals, they didn’t ask for anything more. So, I wasn’t too hesitant when they told me about the appointment—I was actually looking forward to it.
I’ve never been fond of the idea of getting help to get into college that YOU are paying for. I think there’s a problem with the school system; the fact that students struggle this much to get accepted to colleges is enough.
In his office, he took note of my AP classes, standardized test scores, and other things like dream colleges. He also said that many students start college planning right as they enter college and things like test prep are over sophomore year.
“95% of the people who take the PSAT don’t do good because they don’t prepare over the summer,” the guy said.
“It’s too late for your daughter.”
“I highly recommend private counseling to catch up with the other kids her age.”
I hated it. I’ve always thought I worked hard and went that extra step the other kids didn’t even attempt to do. And now this guy I just met was telling me that there’s only so little I can do until college apps? What even is the purpose of high school?
All my past 11 years in school felt denied.
I told my dad I didn’t really like it.
“What are you talking about?! He can help you get on the right path,” my dad told me in the car on the way home. He wasn’t too happy. The air was tense.
At this point, I couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t want to lay out what I said word for word but for the first time since my grandpa told me to quit tae kwon do three years ago (I’ll save that story for some other time), I broke out.
I don’t know if it’s just a rebellious phase or something else I’m feeling that doesn’t want to follow the same path as others. It all feels too robotic—like they’re trying to make a single type of elitists.
I feel uneasy. I feel emotional.
My only hope right now is to finish high school and be able to proudly say that it wasn’t too late. It’s never too late.
But for now, I can’t.