There Are Some Things IB Can't Buy

I think I'm a pretty grateful, unmaterialistic person who enjoys the simple internal reward of a job well done.

Unless it's a job I'm not entirely sure how I did well... a job where I got a little bit lost along the way and started walking into the tress because I couldn't see the forest. I recently made a friend who goes to a supersmart private school - essentially IB without the bureaucracy and the surrounding regulars - and when Roi and I marvel at the "shenanigans" he and his friends get up to, we think "that's exactly the sort of thing we and our friends do - wait, would do - why don't we?" The reason IBers (at least in my experience) aren't as radically using their brains to incite revolution, annoy salespeople and harass authority is because we're a little more burnt-out than our academic peers in different environments. And this burnout is precisely why I have regressed to the level of my first-graders when it comes to my appreciation of rewards.

When I made National Merit Semifinalist, I got called into the office's conference room so the administration and counseling staff could tell me about the honor and hand me the packet for applying for Finalist status. My first thought, I must admit to you, was "Fantastic. Another application to fill out." I was more amused by the Top-Secret Classified status of my award than proud of my achievement. My parents were giddy with the glory and my mom photographed the school's scrolling marquee with my name on it. I smiled absently. My true moment of NM-related joy came when a few days later, I received a tin of cookies in the mail from our financial people as a congratulations.

Finally, my hard work over the past three years had produced a tangible, enjoyable reward that sat before me encased in cellophane. This was not a title, a certificate, a reading of my name at ceremony. This was chocolate and sugar and flour. I beamed. I was the first time in my memory that any academic accomplishment had directly yielded non-abstract gratification. These cookies were MINE. I had EARNED them. I saved them, and when I came home one day to find my mom indulging in one, I yelled this at her, in true entitled-smart-kid fashion, ignoring the fact that ever day I ate stuff paid for by my dad's salary.

When I found out I made Finalist, I was called in to the conference room a second time. On the tables were big bowls of assorted candies, including apple-watermelon nerds. Have you had those things? Seriously amazing. I grabbed a box and thoroughly enjoyed myself while the adults asked my fellow Finalists questions like "What has been the most important thing you learned" and "What would you advise an incoming freshman?" (I should note that I'm lucky I had candy to keep my mouth occupied and prevent me from answering these questions in an inappropriately snarky manner).

Conclusion:

Four years of my life: 4.0+ GPA

Essays, grades & volunteer work: Various certificates & recognitions

National Merit Semi/Finalist Status: Cookies & Nerds

The palatable satisfaction of a job well done: Priceless