I am an overachiever and differ in no way from the rest of the try hards, except for the fact that I’m starting this essay at 10:00 the night before it is due.

I remember the day I became an overachiever. Back in middle school I was able to coast by: doing minimal amounts of work, never opening textbooks or studying for tests, yet I easily managed to get all A’s. Not even low A’s, I was pulling solid ninety-seven percents in most of my classes with the occasional ninety four percent. This is what school was for me. Never did the thought cross my mind that in a few short years I would be struggling to maintain the ninety percent that came too easily in my middle school days.

The most difficult academic “sacrifice” I had to commit was choosing to skip a math assignment so I could work in my spanish workbook and hopefully go to sleep before 11:00. It may not sound like much but going to bed that “late” was devious for my age. Also, my it be noted that school started at the crack of dawn at 9:15AM. It is only now as I sit here typing this essay, in the dead of night, that I appreciate the nights when I was able to achieve a whopping nine hours of sleep. Those were the days.

Back then I blended in with the other students. Many people got A’s and the classes weren’t exactly rocket science or AP physics B. I didn’t have the wonderful opportunity to overload my schedule with six AP classes. At the time my hardest class was simply science. Not chemistry, not biology, not physics, just a general science course. Oh, and the best part was that I actually had an elective, a class that I could breathe in. At the time I was too naive to appreciate the free time during peer counseling. The lack of productivity simply irritated me. At the time I was just a regular student.

But changes came when I graduated from being the big man on campus to becoming a small fish in a massive lake. I disembarked the ship of effortlessly succeeding as Gabriella and embarked on the S.S. Stress Boat as new person. Gabriella was in the past. I could no longer easily get the A’s I was so accustomed to receiving without working my ass off. It was at this time that Gabriella made the life changing decision that B’s would not be acceptable and that she would do whatever it took to maintain all A’s. I became a stressed out, overworked, obsessive student.

But I am not dissatisfied with my decision. My stress has taught me to cope with internal turmoil; my hard work has allowed me to achieve what I used to believe was out of my reach; and my dedication landed me amongst the top ten students of my class. I embrace all-nighters and the days when I have four or five tests. I do not wallow in self pity because I know my hard work will one day payoff. Anyway, who has time to feel sorry for herself?

Someone is always reminding me that I don’t have to get straight A’s or take every challenging class available to me. This never succeeds in deterring me from working hard. Criticism fuels the flame that rages on inside me to exceed expectations and burn a hole through the wall that is doubt. When a window is opened through that doubt, I am then able to escape through it and prove I am worthy and capable of grasping success. I didn’t ponder, looking through that hole, rather I stepped through that portal with determination. Sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion are the prices I pay to be dissimilar in a gargantuan lake full of similar fish.

The position of my lackluster classmates is mush more strenuous. They have to accept the fact that amongst thousands of river stones, only a gold nugget or precious gem will catch the eye of college admissions officers. I embrace late nights and arduous days of endless school work in the face of rejection from elite schools because I didn’t challenge myself or reach my full potential.

I do not always feel like an overachiever. Right now as I sit here and right this essay, I feel like a slacker, an underachiever. I feel most like an overachiever when I talk to people who cannot fathom working on homework for more than two hours or even paying attention in class.

Maybe I am no different from the incompetent students. In ten years will my high school GPA or what college I went to really matter?

But I am really no different from the average bird in the flock. She flies in line with all of the other birds in perfect formation. All of the birds start in the same place and migrate together to a next place. The extraordinary birds and the average birds seem no different to outsiders, and the leader of the flock is not easily distinguished by an untrained eye. But sometimes a single bird is brave enough to leave their flock and make an impact on a different bird population, or even fly by herself.