The moment I entered high school, I wholeheartedly believed my class rank determined how valued, intelligent, and motivated I was in the eyes of my peers. From the start of freshman year, I kept this rank to myself until I whispered this secret to a couple of close friends— one of whom was having trouble answering a question in our biology period. She traveled from her table to mine, and I happily hinted at the answer. Before returning to her rightful seat, she thanked me as usual but added a little to this common expression of gratitude: “That’s why you’re rank one, isn’t it?” No longer a secret, my valedictorian status snuck into many ears and many others as it escaped this classroom.

Now that my cover was blown, my intention of becoming valedictorian was evermore difficult to maintain. I continued to devote countless hours to completing homework and studying, especially when it came to a test. A test that I viewed as a threat to my A in a class, my 4.0 GPA, and my rank as number one. I would stay up most nights reviewing as much content as possible to prepare for battle. I may have mentally prepared to attack any test question, but my physical body grew weak minutes before any test would commence. My hands grew cold as a numbness spread from my fingertips to my elbows. I would go on to prevent myself from taking a full breath until I completed the test and triple-checked my answers. Yet, this anxiety pales in comparison to the news that fractured my reality— my school county had decided to cap the GPA.

All I could think of was for the entirety of seventh, eighth, ninth, and three-fourths of my tenth year of education, my chance to earn what was once a singular title ended as my GPA remained stagnant. The possibility of sharing this title with another scholar swallowed my pride.

I felt betrayed by my school system, which once named one valedictorian. My fragile heart spent countless anxious nights trying to bear the back-breaking pressure of my heightened expectations— now, it all felt worthless.

My burning frustration made this bitter truth difficult to swallow until I remembered what I was supposed to be working toward: my future. When I began selecting my courses for my senior year, I allowed myself to think past high school and what classes would help me pursue my dream career as an orthodontist. With a capped GPA, I no longer had to worry about earning the most bonus points. I could focus on more opportunities, such as a dental internship, instead of undertaking another dual credit, advanced placement, or honors class to continue boosting my GPA. I could now focus on my future career rather than a title that would be awarded at the end of my high school career.

A capped GPA allowed me to see into a world beyond high school. I realize now that my motivation has been inconsistent because it all depended on my desire to obtain this singular title. Once I began thinking about what courses to take for college, I recognized that life does not end after high school; it only begins from there. Instead of complaining about a capped GPA and having to share a title, I learned that a title is not all that high school has to offer. To the class of 2024, I thank you for always supporting me and being the best big brothers and sisters I could have ever asked for. To the class of 2025, I hope to grow closer with our last year of high school ahead of us. To the best friends I have made over the past three years, I am forever grateful for your help in coming to the realization I am more than just a number.

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