Fleeting Moments

When I contemplate my time spent at Exeter, there are many fleeting moments that come to mind. First, I should state, as cliché as it sounds, I am forever grateful for having gone to school at Phillips Exeter Academy. I will never know how to repay my parents for the sacrifices they made in order to send me here. Exeter was an intellectual awakening, a beautiful refuge from the academic carelessness in which I drowned during middle school. I had never been in a such an incredible place before, a place fueled by intelligence, passion, and ambition. It has been the best four years of my life. I feel that when I am older, in ten or twenty years, I will remember only the good things, the happy parts. This school, however, also has its less attractive side, which I think is important to reflect upon and to remember because that is the part that has truly taught me something. Exeter is the epitome of two-faced. A place of family; a place of isolation. Joy; misery. Friends; loneliness. Victory; failure. Home; Hell. At Exeter, I have met the most incredible people that I’ve had the pleasure of knowing and also the people who have caused me the most pain. I’ve loved the place and hated it, which I think is the case for most students who pass through the majestic brick buildings and the endless stairs of the science building.

The warm May days spent basking on the fresh grass behind the soccer field melt in my mind like soft caramel candies; they leave a lingering, sweet taste for days after they’re gone. I will always remember the early mornings in spring, bridge jumping to the chagrin of campus safety, endless afternoons filled with long walks through the dappled woods, Las Olas burritos, tanning, guitars and the inevitable, recurring panic after realizing that no homework had been done. I will remember the team dinners, loud and raucous, plate after plate of food shoveled down after a particularly demanding practice. The gluttonous consumption of chicken nuggets and grasshopper brownies. The elation of birthday cake night. I will remember playing volleyball, frisbee and capture the flag in the quad, up until the minute before check-in. I will remember rowing in the pouring rain in the dark at 5 am (fives at the boathouse), in England and at the New England Championships, teammates and coaches at my side. I will remember performing in the church, in the music building, on the assembly stage and the steps of Phillips Hall for spring EAR, soft breeze producing feedback off the microphones. I will treasure the nights spent in dorms, the dinners at Green Bean with my best friends, calzones and movies on Sunday nights, Harkness classrooms and free formats spent at Stillwell’s instead of studying. These are the good things. These I will remember.

As incredible as Exeter is, however, I would implore younger kids to think twice before applying. To go to Exeter is to make a sacrifice. It is to sacrifice family, friends back home and free time for the pursuit of knowledge and opportunity. It means prioritizing schoolwork over things that are exponentially more important. So you should ask yourself: how much are you willing to give up? Are you willing to shut out family so that you can finish your paper? Turn down an upset friend so that you can cram in the last bit of studying? It was at Exeter that I experienced my first actual anxiety attacks, that I pulled my first all-nighters and that I lost sight of what was important. Exeter condones survival of the fittest, and it is in battling for that survival that we forget to take care of those around us and instead draw inside ourselves and become self-centered, alone. Yes, Exeter is a place for those of a certain academic caliber, and it prides itself on teaching “the best and the brightest.” However, it also twists those same kids into different versions of themselves, versions that may not be an improvement.

So, bravo Exeter. You are amazing; you have challenged me and brought me to my lowest points, forcing me to scramble back up again and again. You have allowed my intellectual curiosity to thrive, given me the best friends in the world, and proved to me that I can make it through the rigor and come out all-right. I also want to thank you for your bad side, for it is only because I realized these things about you that I have learned how to prioritize, how to make time for those I care about, how to find balance and how to enjoy life instead of slaving through it, just trying to make it out alive. You are indeed a two-faced friend, but in the end, there is no question that you are worth it all.