24 hours in the life of a student

I’m a walking contradiction.

I say I’m smart, but I barely manage to finish my homework. I tell myself I have good music taste, but I only listen to BTS, Taylor Swift and Polo G. And I want a partner sooo badly, even though I have no game.

I’m a typical student at Saratoga High. Welcome to 24 hours of my life.

The day starts at 7:55 a.m. 

My alarm has been going off every five minutes for the past two hours — I was supposed to get up early to finish my math homework, but it’s too late now.

I jump out of my bed and quickly brush my teeth. I try putting on my contact lenses, but the first one rips, so glasses it is. I open up my closet and try to find something to wear, but I forgot to do my laundry last night. 

I guess it’s gonna be another freshman class T-shirt and jeans day.

I sprint out the door and to my car, a white Tesla Model Y that my parents gave to me after they upgraded to a red Tesla Model X. Before I leave, I make sure to complete my Screener19 so my first-period teacher knows I’m coming to school.

When I get to campus, I grab a mask out of my car’s glove compartment and dash to class, which is located all the way in the science wing. I rush to the main entrance, where Mr. Thompson shoos me away — I have to enter through the pool entrance. He ends up making me late, adding to tardies that will eventually land me in detention, where Mr. Torrens will make me build desks.

I arrive at my second period, where my class greets me with a standing ovation. For the first time in two weeks, I am only a minute late. I end up learning about composting moldy food and recycling Amazon boxes, amidst a slew of complaints from my teacher about my class being “too sleepy” in the morning.

Then the bell rings and my sacred tutorial time begins. I still have a bunch of pre-calculus homework to finish, so I am shocked when my teacher informs me that my time will be wasted on “team bonding activities” instead.

Advisory strikes again.

The rest of the day has its ups and downs. I get to take a nap during my fourth period after we watch the same historical documentary for what seems like the eighth time in a row. But I’m fully awake by the time the sixth period rolls around, which is my favorite class because my teacher likes me.

When the final bell rings, I breathe a large sigh of relief. School is done for the day, so I go home and start relaxing on my couch. But then I remember that I have a Zoom meeting with my college counselor to discuss my future plans.

During the meeting, I hear a mouthful about things I should be doing. Write a research paper — about what? Start a club — that’s different from the 60 existing ones? Study for the SAT — I’m actually taking the ACT, but OK. Get better grades — I’m trying! To cap it off, she friendly reminds me I likely won’t get into any of my dream schools — ouch.

Once the meeting ends, I check my watch: 3:42 p.m. This leaves me three minutes to get ready for my sport of choice — ComedySportz. I used to do cross country, but I ultimately decided that running for fun wasn’t for me.

When ComedySportz finally ends, I drive myself back home again and collapse onto my bed, desperate for a break. I recount the homework I have to do: Read a chapter of a freaky ghost story, and speed through my Spanish VHL homework (with some help from Quizlet). But before I can start, I fall asleep.

My afternoon nap extends into the evening, and then past dinner. By the time I wake up, it’s midnight. I trudge in the darkness to my room, and begrudgingly finish my homework, which turns out to be much harder than I expected. When I finish, I swear to myself that I’ll never let this happen again.

But then I wake up at 7:55 a.m. the next day, and the cycle starts again.