I am a serial planner. A perfectly manicured spreadsheet sits perpetually open on my browser, dictating the work I must get done, the emails I must send, the extracurricular commitments I must attend. Every assignment and due date is color-coded by class. My afternoons and weekends are planned out to the hour. Every upcoming test is highlighted in an obnoxious, blaring yellow. I have lived by this spreadsheet for my four years of high school.

While the meticulous organization proved helpful for staying disciplined with my schoolwork, at some point along the way, I became trapped in this grid of rigidity.

What started as a way to keep track of day-to-day to-dos became a device for me to look only toward what’s next. I made the mistake of habitually setting rigid, unrealistic goals for myself of what I needed to accomplish, making my eventual disappointment inevitable. Any deviation from my pre-set plan was a failure. For my freshman and sophomore years, I robbed myself of what I now recognize is the most valuable part of high school: the opportunity to enjoy the unplanned.

After joining way too many clubs my freshman year and attempting to stick with ones I wasn’t passionate about, I was left unfulfilled and overburdened. It was only when I took the time to evaluate which activities truly brought me joy, ignoring whether they fit the narrative I wanted on my college applications, that I began to look forward to my daily commitments. My attention shifted away from my grand plan for the future — I was way too busy joking with friends at Torch press night and spending Saturdays doing henna at farmers markets to even consider that these activities were nowhere to be found on my original to-do list.

I opened up a new spreadsheet the other day. As a prospective pre-med student, the next great big application process is already looming — medical school. Still fresh off the high of committing to a college, I was eager to start plotting out my next steps. But before I could start researching the clubs and classes I should pursue to become a competitive applicant, I stopped and closed the tab. The most valuable experiences can’t be confined onto boxes on a spreadsheet.