I’ve never seen so many faces full of frustration, but I guess that happens to kids right before they graduate. I went inside a social studies classroom to observe what I see and take in information that I’ll need in order to become a teacher myself. I took a seat in the back and saw the students hurry inside the classroom, which oddly surprised me. The moment the kids went to their desks, they instantly pulled out papers riddled with words and perpetual amounts of index cards. I grew puzzled, but I figured they had an exam; I mean, it was an AP class and I knew how rigorous the course must be.  I observed how the students started quizzing each other, shouting questions across the room to their fellow colleagues. Many of them answered and those who didn’t, instantly wrote down what they didn’t know. I rested my head on my right hand and grew exhausted just from watching these kids. Once the bell rang, their teacher handed out a packet to everyone, and told them to start immediately. The kids in my row stared at their exams with sharp focus; I almost felt bad for them, but I went through the same thing when I was their age a couple of years ago.

Later on that day, I entered another AP class, but for math. I was surprised to see that they had an exam also and I recognized a lot of the kids from the AP social studies class. I took a seat behind a girl whose face scared me when she took the exam. I noticed how she would just stare at a question for a long period of time with a face that a killer would have. I looked across the room to see a lot of students not writing, they just stared at the exam with pensive looks. They looked desperate and begged their minds to remember everything they learned about math, but it seemed to be in vain. The bell rang some time later, but as I was about to stand up, I noticed that no one stood up. No way, I thought. None of these kids are done? The looks on all their faces changed. I don’t think the questions were the issue; I think it was the amount of time they were given. About a minute passed before a student stood up to hand in her exam. By the time the warning bell rang, people started to hand in their exams, which was bizarre. The girl who sat in front of me dropped her pen, and then dropped her head on the desk. The people who sat around her didn’t notice because they were still staring at their exams with intense glares. I sighed heavily. The bell rung and there were a few students left to hand in their exams, including the young girl who sat in front of me. After she handed in her exam and walked back to her desk, she stared at me. I felt my eyes slightly widen when I saw how lifeless her eyes were. She put on her backpack and picked up her books and started to head towards the door.

“Wait!” I exclaimed. She stopped and turned to face me. I picked up my book and walked over to her. “You don’t have a pass to your next period class, would you like me to take you there so you won’t be questioned?” She exhaled heavily and her face lightened up. She agreed and we left the classroom together. “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you think you did on your exams today?” She raised her shoulders and put a sadistic look across her face.

“I stopped asking myself that three years ago.” What the hell? I thought all AP students cared about their grades, but something about her seemed different.

“Can you explain why, please?” Her steady pace came to a halt. I looked at her concerned, and reminded her that she had class, but she didn’t care, she wanted to stop and speak. “Alright, I’m all ears.”

“I believe in improvement, not the grade itself. I’m pretty sure many of my peers don’t agree with me. Their grade at that moment means everything.” She leaned against a locker and stared towards the ceiling. “You have to understand something about us: we all want to pass and get the best grades possible, but sometimes it can’t be helped. I’ve gotten unspeakable grades this year as a senior, but it’s okay. Just because I get a few bad grades, that doesn’t mean I’m going to do bad in life. Sometimes you have to start with failure to better your chances for success.”

“How is it being an AP student?” With that being said, she eyed me in a harsh way and her face transitioned to callousness. “Do you see being an AP student as a privilege?”

“Define privilege for me, because I certainly don’t think it’s what we’re going through right now.” I felt my visage transition to horror. Is there something I don’t know about this system? “AP classes are beyond unbelievable, the curriculum eats us alive, but the homework is overkill. I have three AP classes, and I’m barely making it. Now, I have friends who take four-even five AP classes! I can’t even imagine what they’re going through. Let me tell you this, kind sir, the hell we go through with these classes is something I wouldn’t want for anyone else to go through.” She took her back off the locker and dropped her books onto the floor, where she raised her hands in front of her. “Am I a senior? Senior year is supposed to be fun, something to remember, something to look back on and have blissful memories of. So, why can I only remember books and frustration?” She clenched both her fists and held them in front of her. “I’ve seen the darkest points of people. I’ve seen people break down from all the frustration building up over the months. I hear how people don’t get enough sleep. That they stay up till three in the morning doing homework.” Her eyes widened as she stared off towards the wall; I knew there was nothing there, but she remembered something. “The number one thing that scares me is people’s eyes when they look at me. The look of exhaustion and stress is all I see these days from my friends. Not to mention all the extra help and extra credit opportunities that we take advantage of without hesitation.”

“You make it sound like a nightmare, and you’re absolutely right about it.” She gave me a different look as I sighed softly. “Listen, I was in your shoes six years ago. I had four AP classes in my senior year, all of them being the four major subjects. Now, let me tell you, it was hell for me, but I can say that I don’t regret taking those classes. I know it’s hard now, and that all of you feel your lives being drained away right before your eyes, but when your get that diploma in your hand, you’re going to miss all of this. Trust me, you will because I miss everything about high school, even the small things that irritated me.”

“As the years go on, the curriculum goes on with it, but I’m speaking on behalf of everyone when I say that stress is all we endure in these classes. I’m tired of seeing how drained and lifeless people look, especially if they have other things outside of school to worry about. Not one person can see AP classes as fun, but a challenge in life.” She walked away and I followed her. I didn’t say anything else to her, she seemed to be annoyed with me at this point. We made it to her class, where she stepped inside.

“I’m sorry that she’s late. She was with me.” The teacher said it was fine. Before I left, the girl gave me one last look. “What’s wrong?”

“If you want to be a successful teacher, be there for your students because every single one of them will have stress in their lives and they’ll need someone to remind them that it isn’t the end of the world.” She thanked me for escorting her and went to her seat and that’s when I closed the door. I walked to the front of the school, but before I left the building, I took out my notebook and wrote down what she said to me. That’s the piece of information that I needed to become a successful teacher.