LIFE AT TRINITY HIGH SCHOOL
by Miriam Brown '08

March 7 , 2007

Since my freshman year, Trinity teachers have held up the International Baccalaureate Diploma to me as the epitome of success. They imply that—when I graduate—receiving this diploma will be a finalizing moment, adding closure to four years of dedication to an honors program that colleges recognize as extremely demanding.

And, I do expect graduation day to be a finalizing moment, but not in the way my teachers imagine. For me, receiving that IB Diploma will be a freeing affair; an event when I will be totally liberated from the orals, essays, and presentations required for every class. Hello sleep and goodbye to-do lists! I am a free woman!

However, that moment has not come; graduation day is still far off. And the landscapes teachers painted for my friends and I as freshmen--landscapes containing a gleaming IB Diploma that blinded us with its brilliance--have now lost their clarity and grown muddied and blurred. Backpacks weighed down with homework block my lines of sight, and the strain of peering through microscopes day after day has caused me to grow near-sighted.

Yet, strangely, this sudden increase in visits to the optometrist has altered the way I view the IB Diploma. As I’ve grown from a freshman to a junior, so too has the program evolved.

As a freshman, I pictured the IB program as an independent hike; a trek up a sloping mountain. It was just me pitted against the elements, equivalent to a Darwinian test measuring my physical hardiness, emotional stability, and mental endurance. I envisioned a race: all the IB students striving to out compete the others. It was survival of the fittest.

However, that was before the nervous breakdowns, before I was caught in a stranglehold of homework. That was before the inevitable late nights that would occur despite my aversion to procrastination. And, slowly, my lone hike turned into a group effort. One by one my friends started joining me, and on this hike--while admiring the scenery--we completed English papers and worked on presentations for History. I was no longer the solitary explorer; the path had become too steep, and I needed the help of my friends.

For me, this is what my future IB Diploma symbolizes. It represents study groups; bowls of ice cream eaten over math worksheets; ice skating outings to break the monotony of the school-week. It smells of freshly baked cookies: the usual treat given to especially stressed out friends; a treat that brightens any due date. It feels like a hug and sounds like concerned advice—both given by peers to help ease the emotional ups and downs caused by sleep-deprivation.

We are the perfect support group: a group of friends; a team. And, because of this, that IB Diploma means much more to me than just a simple acknowledgment of academic endeavors. It represents the ripples of friendship IB started. Ripples that soon grew into tidal waves, expanding past the school building into every aspect of my life. And that is what my IB Diploma is—a tangible symbol of the friendships that will last beyond graduation.