Summer—everyone’s long-awaited time of freedom— is the short period dedicated to stress-free relaxation. The lack of excitement in my body stirs nausea. While my friends are traveling to alluring locations, I am stuck in a summer camp. Not only is it a summer camp; it’s an SAT summer camp. It’s well known that Korean mothers send their children to an SAT camp over the summer to achieve a high score on the SAT. I agree on going not because I want to but because I feel as if I would be behind since everyone is attending. Yet, I didn’t know that what happened to me during this experience brought a side of me that I didn’t even know existed.

The first day of camp is the day I lose a chunk of my confidence. Every single student there seems like a robot.  All their energy went into studying. I did not see a single person laugh or smile on one’s face. Just like in a tv show, I see students looking up at the ceiling while scratching their head, waiting for an answer to magically pop into their brain. A board—white and pristine— had papers with rankings of students in a bold black font. I see a stack of plastic rulers shoved in the main director’s office, and I hear,

“She goes through more rulers during the summer than any time of the year.”

Unsettling murmurs came at me from all directions, wrapping around my head to choke me. I couldn’t think straight  Frightened, I walk into my designated room and sit down on a stiff plastic chair where I’m unable to move my feet. The teacher steps into the compact room—a middle-aged lady with shining Chanel earrings and a bold eyeshadow—and I instantly felt the rush of fear shoot down my spine.  I try to calm myself while the teacher is handing out the thick white packets of SAT problems and notes. Every packet is a brick stacked on my chest The words swirl on the page. Abjure, abnegation, abscond, annihilation. An alphabet of difficulty stretches on forever. Those words were the four words just from the “A” section alone. Nevertheless, the practice English tests scare me more.

She tells us it is time for a timed assessment. We are allowed to have ten minutes per passage. This seems simple because it’s definitely the opposite. Reading a long passage on an unknown topic, and then answering 11 questions all in ten minutes was impossible considering the fact that I don’t anything about the tips and tricks of the  SAT. On the page, John Locke describes exactly what is in my head. Tabula Rasa; the blank slate. Glancing at the people next to me, I see everyone else filling in the blanks at an inhuman pace. Panic pressed my lungs into hyperventilating. Am I being too loud? Are they glaring?

I’m suffocating. I can feel my face turning white. My pencil feels too sharp and heavy in my hands. My fingers are flimsy sticks. I’m shaking uncontrollably, and I grab my wrist to try and stop it, but it doesn’t help. My pencil falls from my weak fingers and drops to the floor with a clatter.

“TIME!” the teacher yells,

Not even a second after she yelled, I walk out of the building to release the feeling of suffocation. In a matter of seconds, I break. Entering the elevator, all I can do is sob until there was no water left in my system. Unlike me at all, I don’t care what others think of me. That is the last thing on my mind, so I cry the whole elevator ride from the 14th floor to the first. I walk to the nearest coffee shop to clear the stress around me. Fifty meters feels like a mile, and my brain is pounding so hard it hurts. Walking into the shop, I try to alienate myself in a crowded room by positioning myself in the corner. I place my weighty head on the glass, while the rays of sunlight through the glass door bounce onto my face. I breathe. The breath of air I inhale allows me to calm down and realize that my type of stress is nothing but petty. Instead, I should be thankful that I have the opportunity to become more intelligent. What’s the point in going to a camp if you are already a genius? The SAT summer camp is supposed to make you stronger academically when it comes to the real SAT. So, why am I panicking now? In the past, hearing the words— I got a 1560, so I am not getting into college— made me fill up with anger. Now, I don’t hear it at all. Currently, I am still in the coffee shop looking through the window. My cornea focuses as the light makes its way through, and even though I see everyone through the window, I see the reflection of myself strongly shining back at me.