The Sophomore Slump


Belle Z.

Sophomore year has been my hardest year yet and sometimes I just feel like I’m in a game of baseball.

“Hey, Sophomore year! You’re up, grab your bat,” my coach said. The first pitch thrown at you is a four-seam fastball—a math project and a history paper due on the same day. “Strike one!” the umpire yells. The next, a wicked curveball—one moment, you think you’re done with all of your homework, but the next, you realize you have an hour of chemistry notes left. “Strike two!” The next pitch, a change-up, narrowly misses you, and the umpire calls it a ball. You breathe a sigh of relief as your teacher issues you an extension due to their concerns about your mental wellbeing. But just as you begin to get back on your feet, a knuckleball comes straight at your face.

The next thing you know, you’re down on the floor, with blood streaming everywhere. Your teachers—oops, I mean opponents—rush over to you and give some insincere remarks like, “Ummm…I guess you can have an extension if you really need it. But, only this once!” or, “Oh my gosh! I had no idea my pitch of two essays due in the same week would do this to you!”

Me in every class. Ella is always sad. (Ella B.’25)

The next time you step up to the plate, the ball comes flying and hits you with a “C” on a test. Same thing happens next time, and the next, and the next. I think you get the gist. You’re stuck in the sophomore slump.

You try to walk on the field with a positive attitude. Your walkup song is “I Just Want to Shine” by Fitz and the Tantrums, but the DJ always ends up playing some depressing song by Billie Eilish. Every time you take a swing, you miss by a mile. Every time you dive for a catch, you fall flat on your face. 

It’s safe to say that sophomore year in all its honors-classes glory has hit you like a 103 MPH pitch. You don’t deny that this is your own doing, yet you still mourn last year’s season every day. Your coaches say you should be optimistic and try to have fun, but how can you do that whenever you take a swing, the ball comes even faster?

You start to think to yourself, Maybe 10th grade, oops, I mean softball, isn’t meant for me at all. Being a softball dropout doesn’t sound that bad…The sophomore slump has hit you hard, and you still don’t know exactly what to do. But at least you have a good team. Right?