For Staples High School’s Class of 2025, graduation is just days away.
“06880” intern Katherine Phelps takes time from her work — and a whirlwind of activities — to reflect on her past 4 years.
Since freshman year, I’ve dreamed of hearing the words: “Turn your tassel to the left. Congratulations, Class of 2025!”
But now, with graduation so near, that dream feels surreal. I can’t help but feel reflective and nostalgic on the topic, even though there were moments where high school seemed like a war zone.
One of my earliest memories at Staples was cheerleading at my first football game. I felt like a tiny fish in a giant sea of people who were more mature, polished and confident.
Katherine Phelps, as a freshman cheerleader.
I looked up at the senior section, and realized the time between now and when I was a Bedford 6th grader was the same. I felt as though I had an infinite amount of time before graduating.
I was so incorrect.
Freshman year is hazy now — maybe because I spent much of it behind a mask.
But one moment stands out: my first Global Themes Honors test. No one warned me how different high school would be.
I had studied hard, reviewed every slide, and still found myself staring at the exam in confusion. I looked around the room, hoping the posters on the wall about propaganda would call out an answer to me.
No surprise: I got a D.
I was crushed. I sobbed to my mother, convinced that this test was the final hurdle to college.
Of course, it wasn’t. I bounced back, figured out how to study for Global and my other classes, nailed the Pythagorean theorem, and discovered a love for Spanish — all within the same year.
Katherine Phelps
Sophomore year came with confidence. I took more honors classes, and mostly thrived — except Algebra 2A.
The quadratic formula felt like my mortal enemy. I worked harder than ever, haunted by z’s and y’s even while writing research papers and studying for chemistry.
I prayed to the math gods the night before my final — yes, really — and somehow, it worked.
A 94 on the final. A final grade of 89.6. An A-. All was beautiful in the world.
But junior year was far from beautiful. It was instead something sent from the devil.
I had always put pressure on myself to do well. Taking 3 AP classes was no easy task. In fact, it was rather horrible.
I was not even close to being the smartest in the room. After getting a D on an AP Language test, my 14-year-old panic flooded back.
Between Lang, Government and Pre-calculus tests, I not only developed severe imposter syndrome — feeling like I did not belong in those courses — but I was also diagnosed with anxiety.
I began seeing a therapist, with whom I could talk about my stress. I was not ashamed; I was grateful somebody could listen and relate to me.
Despite receiving advice to drop one of my AP classes, I chose not to comply. I knew the first quarter of junior year was supposed to be rough. It definitely was.
However, I persisted through the year, and ended up succeeding. I just needed a minute to figure everything out.
Junior year drained me. I spent 4 hours a day either doing homework or studying — in addition to cheerleading, running Service Leauge of Girls, and being an editor for Inklings.
While my friends joked around and called me a “try-hard,” or made fun of me for studying at football games, I knew it would all pay off.
Senior year brought relief. I had tackled most of my college essays during the summer, and while my APs were still tough, I had learned how to handle them.
But college decisions? That was a new kind of stress.
I had applied early decision to Boston College, and I tried my hardest to stay calm.
On December 3 — the night before my 18th birthday — I received news from BC: I was deferred.
Tears ran down my face, and I felt like the walls would cave in.
It sounds dramatic, because it was.
I did not want to celebrate my birthday; I just wanted to be sad. Going to school the next day, my best friends hugged me and wished me a happy birthday, but I felt so ashamed. Everybody knew I wanted BC, and I didn’t get in.
The waiting game dragged on. More deferrals. More uncertainty.
Then, on March 14, I got into Bucknell. I was thrilled.
Wearing Bucknell merch on decision day, with Katie Hannon.
Three days later — on my last night with Inklings — BC’s final decision came out. I waited until I got home to find out.
I was waitlisted. Another heartbreak.
I committed to Bucknell, wore my logo shirt proudly on decision day, and started getting excited.
Five days later, I got an email: I was off the BC waitlist.
I screamed. I cried happy tears this time. All those letters of continued interest, late nights and stressful days finally paid off.
The day Katherine got into BC.
On the night I was accepted into BC and made my commitment, I became extremely reflective. I could not believe I was going to my dream school.
I went through photos on my phone, scrolling back to the first day of high school. I found images of myself crying by being exhausted from studying, and of crying from doing poorly on a test.
But I also found photos of myself smiling with my friends, cheering, and making memories.
If I could go back in time, I’d tell my freshman self to relax and have more fun. I’d tell my sophomore self not to stress so much. I’d tell my junior self to breathe, ask for help, and trust that things will fall into place.
And I’d tell myself on December 3 that this terrible and heartbreaking decision would turn out to be something awesome. I just needed to wait 5 more months.
Now, with graduation so close, I know that there is so much I still do not know.
However, I thank Staples for teaching me to persevere in times of difficulty, for giving me lifelong friends, and for allowing me to better understand myself.
I am ready and excited to navigate this next chapter of my life.
Senior Day for cheer! Katherine Phelps (right) with Ava Bakaleinik.
