When a number doesn’t tell the whole story - the relentless strain of Year 12 ATAR

Year 12 ATAR study isn’t just hard - it’s relentless. A pressure-cooker of expectations, comparisons, and unattainable standards, where students are measured not by resilience or effort, but by a single number: their ATAR score.

This number becomes everything. Teachers, often well-meaning, remind us that this year defines our future. That every mark counts. One mistake could derail years of work. A low grade isn’t seen as a call for support - it’s seen as failure. You’re told to try harder. Study more. As if your life isn’t already consumed by textbooks, tasks, and exhaustion.

The mental health toll can be immense.

What people don’t see is that for many of us, studying is just one piece of a much more difficult puzzle.

Year 12 expects a lot. You’re juggling six subjects, exam prep, university applications, assignments and tests every other week. On top of that, you're expected to complete 50 hours of supervised driving, prepare for your driving test and start shaping a career. Some students are enrolled in tutoring, additional formal study, while others complete subjects through distance education. Try teaching yourself a full ATAR course without direct access to a teacher, reliable internet, or academic support. Try staying motivated when lessons are delayed, when emails go unanswered for days, when your ‘classroom’ is your bedroom and your ‘desk’ is your bed.

“And for students in regional or low socio-economic communities, the playing field is far from level.”

As a result, many students are burning out before adulthood begins. Constant pressure, the fear of failure, the knowledge that one bad grade could cost us everything - it breeds a gnawing anxiety. We’re told stress builds character. But this isn’t always character-building - sometimes it’s character-breaking. Most schools, particularly regional and remote schools, lack adequate mental health support. When mental health support is required, the continued stigma of a mental illness diagnosis silences many of us.

And for some of us, school stress is just the beginning.

We study while also caring for family members, attending medical appointments, managing feeding tubes, or working part-time jobs not to fund cars, luxury items and save, but for rent, bills, food. Some of us teach ourselves full ATAR subjects via distance education with no consistent teacher or stable internet. We study in cramped, run-down houses in bedrooms shared with siblings or that double as lounge rooms. And we are the lucky ones. Those with housing security. Those with a roof over our heads. The students not living in cars, tents or ‘couch-surfing’. Some of us don’t even have textbooks. We’re doing everything we can - but we’re doing it without the basics.

We compete for scholarships not for prestige, but for survival. Without them, we can’t afford to move out, pay rent, or even access university. We apply for dozens, unable to accurately reflect our potential, submitting less polished and glossy applications with minimal support. We prepare for ATAR exams and university entrance exams like the Medicine UCAT without coaching, without guidance, without knowing what to expect - trying to match students who’ve had every opportunity and support to succeed from the start.

And yet, despite it all, we persist. We demonstrate resilience. But we shouldn’t have to break ourselves to prove our worth.