Dear High School,

I could never have expected to learn so little over so long with such a concentrated and exhausting effort in order to achieve such an infinitesimal and underwhelming reward.

So, high school, thank you for teaching me how to crunch and contort my myocyte muscles and calcium bones into a box so useless and painfully enduring that some don't make it out alive. For during my stint with you, there has been a string of suicides and an army of attempted. A product of your making, and your only offer of apology is a reused email template in which you insert the name of our newest loss, sent out to teachers via Outlook to read aloud to their class.

As if this momentary, hollow acknowledgement will heal the years of ignorance and belittling of student mental health that has brought some to the crescendo of suicide.

As if we should see these empty attempts of encouragement, encouragement to maintain the barest act of staying alive, as substantial enough to continually pursue through mounds of useless assignments that teach us nothing of the real world and everything of how tireless effort results in nothing more than a two-dimensional grade.

Thank you, high school, for you have taught me not how to chase my interests, rather how to submit to the will of what standardized tests deem necessary, a cesspool of subjects that have minimal real-world applications and are an act of confining student ability.

It seems these tests, for me, have done their job—I have poured money and time into The College Board's nonprofit cash-grabs to quantify my "intelligence" and have been awarded appropriately. As if my ability of having an education of my choosing can be, even in part, judged by a three hour test graded by nothing more than machines.

We have pushed so relentlessly towards achieving perfect standardized test scores, achieving perfect GPAs, and being accepted into Ivy Leagues, that we have forgotten the subtle sacrifice it takes to achieve such feats. Not only is it normal to sacrifice mental health to better oneself academically, but it is actively encouraged, sometimes even demanded. Further, aligning academic success with GPA forces kids into an ultimatum of taking classes that they are truly interested in or taking classes which are scaled the highest in order to boost their GPA. Thus, not only do students sacrifice their mental health for high school, but they sacrifice their mental health for subjects they harbor minimal interest for.

So, high school, now that I've finished with your classes, took your APs, and poured money into ACTs and SATs, I can say confidently that I know nothing more regarding my future than I did twelve years ago. The only difference now is that I no longer have the luxury of time to figure it out.

Thank you, high school, for you have accomplished this under the ruse of creating a generation more intelligent than the last. You encourage students to push themselves off the edge for nothing more than a mediocre report card, a mediocre report card that will allow students to go to college, to subject themselves to massive amounts of student debt. This debt, a grotesque and growing plague that often follows students around for the rest of their lives, will force many, many who are perfectly capable in mind and ability, to reject themselves to a world in which they could've achieved if they had never gone to college at all. For those who do have the money or have a rare, substantial scholarship, will often flip-flop majors and take unnecessary classes, wasting both time and money, for they were unable to define their abilities and interests in high school.

And yet, my dearest high school, you sit here wondering why students hate you.

With all due respect,

Your ceaselessly loving seniors.