The term “student athlete” has become an oxymoron at Stuyvesant.
On an average afternoon, I, along with the rest of the Stuyvesant Penguins, the girls’ swim team, start practice by 3:15 p.m. We swim between a 4,000- and 5,000-yard workout before getting the lane lines out of the pool and hitting the showers—usually ending by 5:30 pm. I then sprint for my bus and get home by 7:30 p.m., when it’s still early in the evening. But for some reason, I hardly have the energy to even think about starting homework.
Finally getting to sleep some time after midnight, still smelling like chlorine and looking like a soldier who has just returned from combat, I welcome the rest before I go through the whole routine again the next day.
Ah, the life of a student athlete at Stuy.
In a world where academia conquers all and the “dumb high school jock” is urban legend, Stuyvesant is not an easy place to be a student athlete. Timing is an obvious issue. There are 24 hours in a day. Most of us spend a total of three of them commuting (including waiting for and walking from buses, trains and ferries).
Then, there’s the seven and a half spent in school, plus a two-and-a-half-hour practice. Throw in about four hours of homework and studying and an hour to eat and check e-mail. That leaves six hours to shower, “recharge” (the time when you’re working at night, somewhere between “a good night’s sleep” and “a nice nap”) and get dressed in the morning. And that’s in a world without AOL Instant Messaging.
Then there’s the issue of nutrition. As an athlete, you are expected to enjoy three hearty meals a day, to snack frequently and to drink gallons of water in between. You’re going to need an incredible amount of energy to cope with that daily routine every day, and be cautious of illness and injuries along the way. You can’t have that midnight chocolate fix that got you through to the end of your homework, that morning coffee or soda at lunch.
With a no-caffeine diet, the student athlete becomes a rare breed of Stuy student—one who lives on raw, natural energy.
That’s just covering the “athlete” part of the title. The “student” is under just as much, if not more, strain. As if parental persistence, self-motivation and peer pressure were not enough, as the first marking period winds down, the pressure from coaches, captains and teammates heat up One failed class? Off the team. Two Ns? Kiss your jersey goodbye.
Based on this description, the student athletes at Stuy seem to be like superheroes, doing their best to do it all. But as much as we would all like to think that we could grow up to be the next Spidermen and Wonder Women, we know that in reality, superheroes just can’t exist. So why do over 700 kids at this school think it’s worth it?
For some people, it’s an escape from academic pressure. Others believe it will lead to brighter futures. But I think for most Stuy kids, pride is the main reward for “getting comfortable being uncomfortable,” as my old swim coach would say. And trying to do it all is pride in knowing that you came close to achieving the nearly impossible.
It isn’t an easy title to carry, and it’s hard to understand why it’s worth it. But as contradictory as it is, the student athletes of Stuy should carry their tired, achy, pressured, decaffeinated selves with pride.
