The academic culture here at LM is one of those topics that is overwritten, over-discussed, and–honestly–just exhausting at this point. In fact, earlier this year, during a meeting for The Merionite, one of my fellow Editors-in-Chief, after reading yet another article pointing out LM’s overwhelming academic culture, joked, “I swear to God, if I see one more article about academic culture at LM, I will literally—” (I won’t finish the rest of that sentence, but I’m sure you can guess the three-letter acronym word that came next.) To be completely honest, I couldn’t even blame her. At this point, the conversation feels so worn out, so familiar, that it almost loses its meaning. But here I am, writing about it. So yeah, this is going to be yet another piece about the academic culture at LM.
I knew about LM’s reputation well before I ever stepped foot into the building. I knew of stories from people who were always comparing grades, obsessing over test scores, and acting like getting into college was the only thing that mattered. I swore I wouldn’t become one of those “try hard” students who freaked out over every grade and treated school like a competition. But honestly, that didn’t last long once I actually got here.
It started out small. I still remember the first time I experienced the LM mindset personally. Right after we got our grades back for the first biology test of freshman year, a classmate turned to me and asked, “What’d you get?” I told them my score, something that felt good from my perspective, but not to them. Instead of saying something like “nice job,” they raised an eyebrow and said “oh,” followed by a slight smirk.
That moment stuck with me more than it should have. I tried brushing it off at the time, but something had shifted. Suddenly, my test score didn’t feel like an accomplishment—it felt like an expectation I failed to meet. That one offhand comment planted a seed of self-doubt. After that, I started paying attention to what everyone else was getting. I compared grades after every single test and assignment. I refreshed Powerschool to see if I had done well on a test only five minutes after turning it in.
I’ll be honest, there were times when I felt a weird sense of joy after a test. Not because I understood the material well, but because I got a better grade than someone else. I’d glance over at a classmate’s paper when they weren’t looking, just to catch a glimpse of their score, and if mine was higher, I’d feel a little surge of satisfaction, like I had won something.
On top of all the academic pressure, I started to hear upperclassmen talking about extracurriculars, leadership, clubs, and sports. Suddenly, being a good student also meant being “well rounded,” which, in my mind, meant that I needed to be involved in everything. I signed up for clubs, tried out sports, and jumped into activities I barely knew anything about, not because I liked them, but because I thought I had to for college. I was told that colleges wanted students to be involved in sports, so I joined track and frisbee, only to realize that I wasn’t very athletic. I even tried out clubs like mock trial and TSA, showing up to club meetings just to say I was “involved,” even though I wasn’t actually doing it because I felt genuinely passionate about them. It became more about checking boxes than actually enjoying anything, and that was the mindset I unfortunately had about almost every aspect of high school.
As I spent the past month away from school, thinking about my high school experience, and trying to figure out what to include in this piece, I finally had time to slow down and reflect. That’s when the realizations really began to sink in. For the majority of high school, I had convinced myself that happiness came from academic validation. I thought that true happiness meant the A’s that would show up in my Powerschool and the leadership roles that I held. But looking back, I realize that the moments I actually felt happiest at school had nothing to do with any of that. They came during stress-free lunches spent laughing with friends, in the casual side conversations with other people in my class, and in the quiet comforting talks I had with Mrs. Mirzanschall during lunch.
Even within my extracurriculars, I’ve come to realize that the joy didn’t come from the titles I was chasing or the activities I could add to my college applications. It came from the people within them. There was one person in particular who was involved in a lot of the same activities as me. At first, I saw him as nothing more than competition. We were constantly trying to outdo each other by attending more meetings, volunteering for more responsibilities, and at times, even throwing subtle jabs behind each other’s backs in hopes of gaining an edge. But somewhere along the way, something changed. This year, we just started talking about life, stress, college, and everything that wasn’t school or our extracurricular activities, which led us to realize that we share many of the same interests and hobbies. Now he’s become someone who I genuinely trust and someone I consider a real friend. If we had let go of that need to compete with each other sooner, and actually got to know each other, we’d probably be even better friends by now.
I won’t deny the fact that LM has taught me to recognize the importance of academics. I’ve learned how to work hard, how to manage deadlines, and how to challenge myself. But I’ve also come to realize that academics are only a small part of the high school experience. In ten years, I probably won’t
remember what grade I got in my science classes, or what I learned in my English classes, but what I will remember is the laughter I shared with classmates and the time spent hanging out with friends.
To my fellow graduates: yes, this is yet another piece about the academic culture at LM. But more importantly, it’s about what that culture almost made me forget: that the best parts of these four years weren’t the grades or titles, but the people. The friends who made me laugh when I needed it the most, the ones I never expected to grow close to, and the small moments that now mean everything to me. As we leave this chapter of our lives behind and move on to whatever comes next, let’s not lose sight of that. Because in the end, it’s the friendships and small moments we’ve created that will carry us the farthest.
