I got my report card today. It wasn’t bad. The individual class grades were pretty good and satisfactory; in some classes I had achieved greater than I had thought. But as soon as my eyes hit my GPA, my balloon of happiness deflated. I never thought that I would see that number. I never thought it possible for me. It wasn’t bad, many people jealously aspire to have that number. But … it fails my standards.
Next year, I’m starting the IB diploma schedule. Certain death. My sister completed it, but I feel like I’m failing everything. I can’t live up to her standards. She got lower grades in one of her classes senior year, but I still see her as high “B”, all “A” student. My mom said she wasn’t going to tell me my sister’s grades or GPA because she wants me to not compare myself to her. Well, I’m comparing anyways and I have such high standards of my sister in her academics that I’m bringing myself down. Yippee. I know God will be happy if I try my best, but I’m not sure I am, and I feel like I’ve failed him when I don’t get the 4.5 GPA. Ugh. All of this right before camp.