Today, year 12 students are preparing to sit their first HSC exams; the culmination of thirteen years of schooling.
Ten years ago, almost to the day, I was in the exact same position. I remember it as though it was yesterday: hungover and clasping a large, triple-shot skim cappuccino as I poured over my loose-sheet notes in the 'smoking' alley behind my school.
I was prepared - manically so. I hadn't been to bed the night before, choosing instead to drink two bottles of $5.00 merlot as I memorised every single word of a 2,000-word essay on the relationship between Hitler and his lead architect, Albert Speer. Modern history wasn't my thing, so the stakes felt especially high: teachers had warned me that, given my subject choices, a bad performance would drag down my entire UAI (now ATAR) score, effectively leaving my professional future hanging in a balance.
There were no ifs or buts, I had to do well.
There were no ifs or buts, I had to do well.
For almost a year prior, we'd listened to a diverse lineup of former students speak about their experiences with the HSC. We'd heard their tips and tricks, their advice - their university success stories. To be fair, we also heard from one student who hadn't ended up using their UAI, but the overwhelming sense was that we were on the precipice of the most important, life-defining few months of our young lives.
With the added stress of managing my poor mental health, a pretty soul-crushing part-time job, and the various social engagement that come with turning 18, it was a lot to deal with.
In many ways, the HSC was the catalyst for my first brush with addiction. The mounting pressure of year 12 and the looming exams had driven me to drink. I had started smoking cigarettes, too - something I felt certain helped with my concentration and nerves. Not to mention the coffee - up to 10 shots per day, enough to send my already fluttery heart into straight-up palpitations.
Looking back, I wish more than anything that I'd been kinder to myself during this period. I wish I'd eaten more food and drank more water. I wish I'd exercised and put down the cigarettes. I wish I'd subbed out my third daily coffee for a chai latte. I wish I'd known how inconsequential the entire year would feel in a matter of years.
I wish I'd known that I would be okay.
I wish I'd known that I would be okay. That, even though I'd eventually get a 94.5 UAI (or there-abouts, I've quite tellingly forgotten), I'd never actually use it - that I'd never go to university. I wish I'd understood how many paths there were to success, and fulfillment, in whichever field of work I ended up choosing.
Because despite my objective success in the exams, the various self-destructive habits I developed over the course of the HSC would intermittently derail my life for years to come. And, 10 years on, I can say with certainty that it wasn't worth it.
Everyone's career journey is unique, and different careers place different emphasis on academic success. At its best, the HSC is a valuable opportunity to test yourself, to challenge your ability to work under pressure - to set yourself a goal, and strive to achieve it.
But, at its worst, it can be a vehicle for self-destruction.
So, to Australia's year 12 students, walking anxiously to school this morning, listening to their voice-recorded essays on their iPhones, please, please, please be kind to yourself.
I promise you this: the biggest few months of your young lives will feel like a speck of dust soon enough.
If you or anyone you need requires help contact the Kids Helpline 1800 55 1800.
Sam Leighton-Dore is an award-winning visual artist and the author of the graphic novel . You can follow Sam on Twitter or Instagram
