No fewer than twice a week, my peers subject my name to the same patronizing inflection. Usually, after seeing the chaos that is my backpack or learning I have postponed writing an essay until a few nights before it’s due, friends or classmates will exasperatedly draw out my name, the intonation of their disappointment punctuating each judgmental note. 

Granted, their words are often well-meant, likely in hopes of spurring me from my apparent sloth. Nevertheless, their overtones have a sharper message: If I can do it, why can’t you?

At home my family calls my name but with a more compassionate cadence. When my brother Mickey’s shriek of my name interrupts the squeak of my front door announcing my arrival home, I feel relieved. He is a 2-year-old ball of energy with thick brown hair. His locks never seem to release their hold on whatever snack he had that day, despite my mother’s Sisyphean efforts to scrub it out.

He is followed in quick succession by my brother Mack, crawling army style on his elbows, his stomach pressed to the ground, with as much speed as his pudgy 11-month-old arms can muster. Nonchalantly, my 6-year-old sister Clara, sitting criss-cross on the couch oblivious to the clamor around her, will call out a greeting, not looking up from her book or tablet. 

From tortuously brushing the dreadlocks that form daily in Clara’s thick blond hair to coaxing Mack into one last bite of green pea mush, my siblings are what I dedicate the most time and energy to. Only after I’ve fulfilled my role as an older sister can I begin my homework for five Advanced Placement (AP) classes and prepare for seven extracurriculars all while somehow finding the time to eat and sleep.

Even as I write this, Mickey, my judge and jury, is tentatively hitting me with a pale pink plastic saucepan. My crime: not giving him enough attention.

I love my family and gladly accept the rewarding tasks that come with being an older sibling, but everyone from my friends to teachers rarely consider the energy it demands. My home life requires much management and effort, yet my teachers and peers alike compare my work ethic for academics to others’ despite the different circumstances of our lives. These unfair judgments aren’t unique to students who need to take care of their siblings. By assuming the homogeneity of teenagers’ lives, educators exclude the responsibilities of those who need to work to support themselves or their families, or act as a caretaker for a parent or grandparent.

Studying for my AP World History test last spring, I found myself more enthralled in my brother’s game of pass the block than my Barron’s textbook. Still, teachers and even college admissions officers hold students with significant home responsibilities to the same standards as those with fewer obligations. 

Even within my classrooms, I have noticed students overwhelmed by academics are far quicker to request leniency from teachers than students who feel overburdened by household roles. I missed various assignments my sophomore year because I was busy assisting my mom in her struggle of wrestling three flailing and exhausted small children into their yearly check-up. I avoided asking for sympathy from teachers even when I felt overextended by my duties for fear of  their viewing my situation as illegitimate and seeing me as an apologist, or even worse a “slacker.” 

After six years with my siblings, I can attest they provide more opportunities to grow and learn than any of my extracurriculars. I am confident that dedicating time to them and their development, even at the cost of some focus from academics, is well worth it.

Just because many family responsibilities are obligatory doesn’t mean they require any less commitment or provide fewer opportunities for character development than school extracurriculars. Still, I have seen several colleges and scholarship programs suggest applicants include caring for siblings or working to provide for their family as an extracurricular, but more as an explanation of circumstance instead of a legitimate representation of strength of character.

As I research post-secondary schools and their expectations of applicants to prepare for the odyssey that is college applications come senior year, I have noticed a pattern among suggested extracurriculars. Counselors recommend being as involved in school and community organizations as possible but focus almost exclusively on activities that don’t pertain to one’s home.

The archetype this pigeonholing attitude creates largely confines the definition of a good teenager to someone who focuses primarily on growth within academics and leadership, and as a result it excludes the validity of growth through familial work. 

I’m not suggesting family responsibilities become an automatic excuse for my, or anyone’s, procrastination, simply that people in different situations recognize it as a valid and challenging role students may assume.

So the next time you wonder why I am not doing more, I assure you my sister’s hair is free of tangles, my brother is well fed, and I wouldn’t trade that time for any academic accolades.

What do you do after school? Let us know in the comments below.