Take this all with a grain of salt.

A day for candidate ABC123 ends at 4:00 a.m. when he is finally able to fall asleep after lying restless in his bed for several hours worrying about his IBDP EE; RPPF #1, #2, and #3 on ManageBac; Topics/HOA HI; and other IAs, EAs, IOs, HLs, SLs, TOK, CS, CAS, and PGs. No longer a post-MYPanticipated student, ABC123 was now an IB Diploma candidate jealous of the course students, and even delegated time in his sleep to worry about marks, papers, and matrices.

The IB Diploma is, in a word, Kafkaesque. But so much that even Kafka would repent for seven days and seven nights if he were responsible for thinking of it. The Diploma is more than one word, however, it is three: my biggest mistake.

Most things about high school are insufferable, you must agree. Senior year at AHS is enough of a terrible experience. The Diploma, however, has emerged as the sole source of my daily rage. IB classes themselves are challenging and rigorous and prepare for college. Everyone should take at least one. However, it is the Diploma, the culmination of an entire schedule of IB classes in addition to several components outside of class, that I feel is- with the full weight of my candidacy for the Diploma- utterly pointless.

It is impossible to talk about the Diploma without talking about Ms. Bradshaw, the IB Coordinator at AHS, our beacon of hope in this vale of tears. She moves mountains for her students, for which I am eternally grateful. And I don’t think I would be where I am without her help. Words cannot express how thankful I am for her, as well as all my IB teachers.

My gripes lie with the Diploma itself.

Founded in 1968, a year known globally for its idyllism, prosperity, and happiness, IB is a product of its time, as it continues to spread those virtues to the huddled masses across the world who signed away four years of their life without knowing anything the Diploma entailed. Persuaded by the general sentiment that touts the program as a catch-all solution for applying to college, I signed up. By the time I hit freshman year, I had my entire schedule for high school planned. However, navigating the IB labyrinth is no easy task and I am still learning new things about my diploma to this day.

IB is headquartered in Geneva, Switzerland, an unfortunate location that forces it to constantly live in the shadow of far more exciting and beneficial world organizations such as the International Road Transport Union and the International Electrotechnical Commission. IB headquarters, however, are by no means small, and are in fact several thousand feet tall, built in a style best described as Mordor revival, and easily recognizable by the massive fierce blazing orange eye at the top.

There is a common saying used to describe something particularly awful that goes “I would not wish this on my worst enemy.” I’ve never understood this. I typically say the opposite. Indeed, IB is the paramount example of something I would absolutely, wholeheartedly wish on my worst enemy- all of them. It transcends any drive towards a greater good.

As an IB candidate, there are only two states I live in: tiredness and exhaustion. I have long believed that little sleep builds personality. That is the nature of deprivation. However, I also believe no sleep builds a long list of health problems. That’s the case of IB. Mercifully, there is a plus, which is that I no longer need an alarm clock. Every morning after a refreshing night of sleep (which I track in seconds not hours) I am instead naturally awoken by the cooing of mourning doves and a piercing thought: when is this going to end?

To that extent, the promise of the IBDP preparing for a college workload is merely an anecdote. It’s college level work at a college level workload, except you’re in high school, you live at home, you’re not legal, you’re yelled at by admin and security, and you’re surrounded by people who are closer to elementary school than to graduation (in both years of education and, for others, in intellect).

IB has not fostered in me any special kind of learning. Any thirst for learning or appreciation and interest in a topic has come directly from outstanding teachers. IB has worked hard to erode my joy of learning in lasting ways, and worn it away to a bleak and tired place, stripped to bitter hatred and disillusionment. I hate learning, I hate going to school, I hate doing work.

You do not need IB to get into a good college (whatever that means). You do not need to get into a good college to get a good job (whatever that means), nor to have a good life (whatever that means). Out of the top ten schools in FCPS ranked by U.S. News and World Report, only one offers IB. The remaining nine schools are AP, where students do less but still end up in the same place as IB students.

Like the current ‘shrinkflation’ epidemic, IB costs more for less.

Moreover, who knows if upon pursuing the Diploma you will even get into the colleges you want, or if you will be able to afford them. There goes the very reason you signed up. Similarly, the Diploma isn’t guaranteed so who’s to say you won’t fail it due to a minor technicality? In both cases, your years of hard work would amount to absolutely nothing.

Sure, there are the outliers, the naturally smart minority, who work hard and do the Diploma and end up at an Ivy League, whose goals in life include solving world hunger, and if time permits, curing cancer. For those, IB is a given. But among those in my class, they are few enough to be counted on one hand. So ask yourself, is that you?

I am not preaching defeatism. Rather, I am advocating for laziness. Laziness is, according to modern society, the greatest sin of this current era. The age of phones, laptops, and social media has for teens resulted in unprecedented organization, cutthroat planning, and specialized interests. Burnout is thus fueled and normalized.

It is never talked about how the Diploma is extraordinarily sheltering. It creates a bubble. You only go to IB classes, you are only surrounded by other candidates, and all you hear is talk about IB. Interaction with the remaining roughly 90% of the school is essentially impossible if you do not do a sport or are not heavily involved in a club. It is also a mental bubble, too: all you think about is IB.

IB confines you. High school is meant to explore, discover, experiment, and create. Instead, IB boxes you in, it limits you, it defines you. As an IB student, there is very little time left for yourself, especially in comparison to the rest of their class, so it is easy to fall behind.

I have no positive feelings towards IB. Indeed, the only good thing about it is the fact that you don’t have to do it. The Diploma has become a black hole in my life. IB has betrayed me. It’s corrupted everything I used to enjoy about school. I am embarrassed to say I am doing IB. I feel like a sucker. I feel cheated, gullible, jaded, and like there is nothing I can do about it.

There is no shame in choosing not to do the Diploma. Do the advanced diploma. Do the standard. Or, you can drop out of high school and join the ranks of such unsuccessful and unknown high school dropouts as Gisele Bündchen, Quentin Tarantino, and Nicole Kidman.

In addition to laziness, I am also advocating for happiness, namely Happiness Now. Make decisions for this, because the present is what you will have to remember. So much time is spent focusing on school- the next IA, the next exam, the next formative- that everything that exists outside of school is often forgotten. If I could go back in time all those years ago, I would choose not to do the Diploma.

By no means should you ever become someone who says that high school was the greatest time of your life. Still, no one on their deathbed has ever said, “I really wish I spent more time finding more sources for my Extended Essay.”