Senior year. Aka the last lap, the final season, the grand finale of this four-year show we call high school. You’d think by now I’d have my act together, right? Wrong. What I do have is a schedule that somehow works despite looking like the academic version of Jenga—one wrong move and it all collapses.

Let’s break it down.

My Schedule, Exhibit A

Here’s what I’m working with this year:

• AP Spanish 4 – my Duolingo streak did not prepare me for full-on literature analysis in Spanish.
• Organic Chemistry (dual credit) – because what’s senior year without memorizing 20 new functional groups per week?
• Multivariable Calculus – three years ago I couldn’t spell “parametric,” now I’m plotting vector fields before 9 a.m.
• AP Literature – reading classics at 3 p.m. when my brain is fried… a bold choice.
• CCMA (Clinical Medical Assisting/Practicum) – the one class that actually makes me feel like I’m moving toward medicine instead of just drowning in it.
• AP Biology – apparently I wasn’t satisfied with AP Chem trauma and needed more molecules in my life.
• AP Macroeconomics / Government – macro this semester, gov the next. At least by May I’ll know both why the Fed changes interest rates and how a bill becomes a law.

On paper, it looks intense. In reality, it’s like trying to juggle flaming swords while running cross country (oh wait… I’m also doing that).

The Chaos Part

Here’s the thing: I don’t actually have “free time.” I have five-minute bursts between activities where I decide if I want to eat a granola bar, finish a lab write-up, or text back the group chat. Spoiler: I usually pick the granola bar.

Some examples of the chaos:

• AP Bio labs somehow always land the same week as DECA deadlines. Do I review glycolysis pathways or write another competition case study? (Trick question: neither, I end up late-night cramming while eating Chick-fil-A fries.)
• Spanish essays love to appear the same week as NeuroClub events, which means my “essay” starts as bullet points in Spanglish and evolves into a passable paragraph.
• Macro graphs + O Chem reaction mechanisms + AP Lit annotations = the trifecta of pain when they all show up on the same Sunday night.
• There was a week where I had an O Chem test, a Bio quiz, and a Lit timed write within 48 hours. I basically lived in Starbucks, hopped up on cold brew, trying to remember both the Krebs cycle and the symbolism of a green light.
• Don’t even get me started on trying to schedule officer meetings around everyone’s “totally packed” calendars. We’re high schoolers. Our biggest time conflict is usually “I have math homework.”

The Organized Part (Shockingly Exists)

But let’s give credit where it’s due: this whole thing works. Barely, but it works.

Why? Systems. I live inside my Notion like it’s a second home. Every assignment, practice, and coffee run has a color-coded box. Google Calendar is my safety net. Reminders app? My third brain.

I’ve also learned the art of “functional procrastination.” If I don’t want to start my Bio outline, I’ll convince myself that reorganizing my notes counts as productivity. If I can’t deal with Spanish subjunctive verbs, I’ll review DECA prep instead. It’s not balance, exactly—it’s academic whack-a-mole, but the moles eventually get hit.

The Senior Twist

Here’s what makes it different this year: I can see the finish line. Every class feels less like “forever” and more like “nine more months, just survive.” Which means the chaos is almost…fun? I mean, sure, I’m exhausted, but there’s also this weird confidence in knowing I can handle it.

The best part? I’m starting to actually enjoy the overlap. Spanish has made me a better communicator in NeuroClub outreach. Economics slides into DECA prep. O Chem labs give me random analogies to use in AP Lit essays (“this symbol reacts with that symbol” is not technically correct, but it is funny). For once, all my random commitments aren’t pulling me in different directions—they’re colliding in a way that makes the chaos feel intentional.

I couldn’t have survived this schedule as a freshman. I would’ve cried after the first derivative test. Now, I just cry once a quarter and move on (kidding… kind of).

Final Thoughts

So yes, my schedule is chaos. Yes, I run on caffeine and adrenaline more than I’d like to admit. But it’s organized chaos. It’s senior year, it’s messy, it’s full, it’s exhausting, and honestly—it’s perfect for right now.

Ask me again in May if I still think this is “functional.”