Foreword：
The summer of 2025 proved far more humid than what I had imagined. The 1,460 days spent with SCIE ended in a rainy morning. Behind me stood the unchanged campus, yet every moment of those four years changed my heart forever…
Strangeness
In 2021, upon transitioning from a public middle school to SCIE, I experienced for the first time the sensation of not being welcomed by everything. Navigating the unfamiliar campus felt like an impossible feat; teachers spoke in strange tongues, and peers already knew one another. Textbooks and exam papers brimmed with unrecognized characters and vocabulary. Afternoons once dominated by classes and homework now stretched empty, weekends liberated from cram schools and the dread of underperforming in weekly, monthly, or mock exams.
This overwhelming “strangeness” caught me entirely unprepared. When someone who haven’t got a chance to manage their own time before suddenly faced such vast freedom, the outcome seemed inevitable. Countless nights wasted and idle days later, my poor academic performance in the first two years became an unsurprising consequence.
Though I will still be surprised by myself when trying to remember my squandered G1 life, I have no regret. Freedom, just like a double-edged sword, is a good weapon in skilled hands but may cut one’s fingers in others. Faced with idle time—sweet yet toxic—perhaps some possess the wisdom to wield it perfectly, but I knew myself well enough: I was not one of them. Without the trial and adaptation of those first two years, I might never have learned to embrace and manage freedom responsibly. While those years’ grades may have destroyed my U.S. applications, they laid an important foundation for what followed.
Transformation
Before joining SCIE, I attended numerous alumni seminars to prepare for the future. Though themes varied, one point occurred consistently: A1 is the most important because AS exam scores determined your future results. After struggling for two years, I faced this “big exam” with almost no preparation.
Human self-preservation, however, is potent. Confronted with disappointing A1 mock exam results, I finally admitted I wasn’t the “smart kid” anymore who could deal with school work easily. Scared, I started doing what I have done before—consulting teachers, dedicating afternoons and evenings to study, and revising half-understood concepts again and again. Yet the window between mock exams and international assessments is only barely a month. Despite desperate efforts, there are limits for human; I couldn’t get the miracle I wanted for my favorite subject, Psychology.
Finally, though Mathematics increased from 67 to 93 and FurtherMath secured an unexpected A* predicted grade, Psychology fell short by a single mark, leaving me to navigate the application season with imperfect scores.
Anxiety, Setback, and Acceptance
In A1, friends talked me into joining a role-playing COC club. We often discussed about the ineffable ancient gods and what human can do when facing them.
The application season, I realized, is similar to this: alone in a boat that you built in the three years, sailing through seas haunted by supernatural forces. Agents, family, and peers offered limited help; ultimately, I faced all difficulties alone.
Armed with barely adequate grades, I applied without hesitation to study Psychology at Cambridge. Though I’d never envisioned attending, Psychology was my passion—and Cambridge its ideal culmination. The wait after the interview became an endless torment, and peaked on decision day. When rejection letter finally arrived, my emotions had evaporated long ago; relief arrived together with failure.
Objectively, being winter-pooled then rejected signaled partial validation. Yet the disappointment remained overwhelming. After nights of restless reflection, pain gradually yielded to resolve. Subsequent applications brought acceptances from other institutions, leading me to an suitable choice. Still, my sharpest memories of the application season remained the initial disappointment and final relief. To be honest, no one is flawless, nor can anyone wins in every race. In the face of inevitable failure, accepting and honoring our limitations is the only way.
Epilogue
Before enrolling me at SCIE, my father met an alumnus. Inspired, he said if SCIE could shape someone so mature, it explained the school’s great results.
Four years later, I may be able to provide a partial answer: SCIE does not transform children into adults. Rather, it teaches them to navigate freedom and adversity. Perhaps when one learns to embrace every facet of oneself, things like maturity will come immediately.
Now, I embark on a new journey, but this time, I will carry the bravery and confidence SCIE gave me.
- Article / Dylan Yang
