There were many others who had caught earlier trains to avoid the catastrophe. They had urged me to join them but I was skeptical. “There’s still time” I told them.

As time passed, fear and panic took over. I took what remained of my belongings and hastened my preparations. I did not know when the last train would leave and I didn’t want to miss it.

At the Interchange, all I saw was panic. Everyone had realised how near and severe this disaster would be. I called up some friends who were still at home, who refused to believe the truth. “It’s not too late to leave”, I begged. But my words fell on deaf ears.

As the train’s great steam engine chugged to life, I peered out sadly as my carriage lurched forward. They had missed yet another train.

My train was only half full. It was filled with passengers who had decided to take action. They acknowledged the calamity that would consume them if they did not. It wasn’t too late for us.

6 months later, we arrived at our destination, Station 7. There, we met with the rest who boarded the earlier trains and surprisingly, some who boarded the later trains.

Station 7 was a safe haven. Those who reached it knew their efforts were not in vain. It represented a clean slate, a fresh start after the calamity. Those who boarded the earlier trains were unscathed, their heads held up high and their faces beaming from ear to ear. They were confident and energetic.

Those who boarded my train were tired but still able to function. We had spent much of the train ride thinking about whether we had hopped on too late. We weren’t sure whether we would escape the disaster but maintained a positive energy throughout. We had to spend some long nights helping the conductor maintain the train’s engine. Fortunately, it was enough and we made it.

The passengers from the last few trains that arrived at station 7 looked distraught and out of breath. They were somehow aware that they had barely made it. Throughout their journey, they had to help the conductor power the train by putting more coal in to the furnace constantly. They had to deal with constant breakdowns and obstacle. The last few trains were the most ancient trains, for the other, more modern trains, had already left. They had received the least support and had to fight for their survival. They had worked day and night, many times without rest. We heard that some who boarded these trains didn’t make it.

“Where are the rest?” I asked one of them.

“They only made it to Stations 5 and 6”. He replied.

Stations 5 and 6 were where for some, dreams were crushed. The hope for greater opportunities were less available there. These stations were harder hit and it was harder to move on to the next stage in life in those conditions. But the worse part of these stations weren’t its tangible aspects.

It was regret. Regret that they had not taken the earlier trains. __________________________________________________________

As an IB student, I think it would be right to say that at some point in time, we have all considered the IB programme a “massive disaster”. This story serves to depict my own experience with the programme in a metaphorical sense, and perhaps even serves as a cautionary tale to those still embroiled in the Great Calamity.

If you’re an IB student and have already started studying, keep up the good work, you’re on the right path! Remember to take some breaks because you don’t want to burn out but keep a steady pace.

If you haven’t been studying, don’t hold off for too long or you may end up with too little time. Trust me, the pain of regret far outweighs the hard work and struggle in these few months.

The light at the end of the tunnel should be visible by now. It may be a dim one but it will keep getting brighter as the months go by.

If you are feeling like you are too late to board the last train, or if you need a little help getting your train to reach Station 7 in time, you might be interested to check us out here: iblounge.org

All the best to all of you in your IB journey!