The Weight of Wonder

Quite honestly, my first term at Exeter was a strange mix of wonder and terror. That September, it was my first time setting foot on this side of the country, let alone this campus. As the van from Boston Logan approached the setting for the next three years of my life, the string of bright green trees, the colonial architecture and the number of Dunkin’ Donuts in this part of the world all seemed foreign to me. When I finally arrived to Phillips Exeter’s campus, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I, for the first time, saw the campus that I had for so long only seen through distant pictures online.

But my wonder quickly turned to terror. I shrunk in the midst of the daunting red brick buildings and wondered that first day, “Will I ever be able to call this place my home?”

Aside from fitting into the physically foreign environment, I also wondered if I could belong in the midst of all of this competition and talent. As a new lower, I struggled to be taken seriously. My insecurities took hold of me, and I wondered if I would ever truly be considered competent again. Everyone around me seemed to have a head start. Whether it was because my peers came in as preps a year before me, they had mentors or programs supporting them back at home, their parents graduated from college or they came from financially secure backgrounds—it just seemed that I was behind in this race of being “the best.” I’m sure I’m not the only one who felt this way. We all face the earth-shattering revelation when we arrive on Exeter’s campus that we are no longer the smartest, fastest or most talented kids on the block anymore.

At first, this fact might seem devastating or sometimes even discouraging. Many students wonder what good it is to even put in effort if there’s no hope of winning first place anymore. But with time, this fact can also be incredibly liberating. Some see this revelation as a chance to let go of striving to be “the best” in comparison to others and instead focus on finding their own personally meaningful achievements through their individual journeys of progress. I chose the mindset of the latter thanks to a conversation I had with my roommate my first term here.

While I may not have had many positive memories with my first roommate at Exeter (she was luckily only here for one term), I will never forget the piece of wisdom she offered to me that fall. The first week of school, I returned to our room disheartened after auditioning to be a flutist for the school’s orchestra. My roommate saw the flute I was carrying and commented at how amazing it was the I could play the flute so well. “You can play the flute?” she remarked. “You must be so good if you’re auditioning for the orchestra!”

But I told her I was nowhere near the best. I butchered the audition and came back to our room very sure that I would never be able to play in orchestra. I told her that there was no way I was good, especially compared to the other musicians at this school. “Julie,” she told me while shaking her head, “you don’t have to be the best at something to just be good at it.”

I wasn’t accepted into Symphony or Chamber orchestra that year, but I joined Symphonia. With the help of my teacher, I cultivated my passion for music and saw my progress through multiple recitals, being selected for New Hampshire’s All-State Music Festival, moving up to Symphony and Chamber orchestra, and finally in participating in the Music 500 course this term which culminated in my final senior recital. Of course, I’m still nowhere near the best musician in the world or even at this school. But I found my own personal success upon performing in my senior recital this spring, surrounded by loved ones who have supported me throughout my journey these past years.

Choosing the mindset of focusing on personal progress may have been liberating, but it was difficult to uphold at a school that values such a narrow view of success. The name Phillips Exeter carries a hefty weight of prestige in this world, and it’s no wonder why people at this school care so much about prestige, honor and awards. Exonians are said to be the best at everything, and they help build up Exeter’s reputation by snagging home national titles, bringing forth innovative discoveries and bringing honor to our school name. But who even remembers these prizes given in high school? Or, as we have seen this past year in the midst of Exeter’s media turmoil, what’s behind the fickle nature of reputation? We too often care about the end result instead of the journey. We ignore that students here come from vastly different levels of support and therefore have different starting places in this race to success. We rarely recognize those who, in the end, may not be first or second, but have come a long way from where they have started.

Take the time to encourage one another and recognize genuine effort and passion. Take the time to value good character. I would not be where I am if I didn’t have the teachers who saw my potential that first year at Exeter. They recognized a power in me that I couldn’t see myself, and they went out of their way to cultivate my talents to be where I am today, especially when I didn’t believe in my own abilities. Maybe I have objectively conformed to Exeter’s box of success. But my parents and I never pride ourselves in telling people whatever I titles I received here. I am always proud to say that I struggled, not that I succeeded. When I got into college, I dealt with a slew of responses, all in judgment to whether I deserved to get in that school or not. I don’t know whether I deserve anything I have in my life so far. But I do know that I didn’t get here on my own. Make it your mission to extend grace that you have received to others.

Apart from letting go of subjective notions success, calling Exeter home meant becoming comfortable enough to look at it objectively without the lense of guilty indebtedness and undying appreciation. I could finally call Exeter home when I was brave enough to criticize it and provide my own input on making this school a better place. Exeter finally accepted me as one of its kind when it became brave enough to recognize the validity of my voice.

Outsiders and even members of this community constantly remind Exonians to be grateful for the experiences they have on this campus. I struggled for the longest time as I dealt with the immense amount of security and privilege that this institution has provided me, especially in relation to the members of my family back at home who have never and will never get to experience this incredibly lucky life. Again, I thought about what I have done to deserve this once-in-a-lifetime experience that this institution has provided me. But I was pondering on the wrong question.

The game of “who deserves what” is a tricky business. But the important idea to remember is that you are not any less deserving to be here than anyone else. Even until this year, after experiencing incredible support but also hurtful failures by faculty on this campus, the attitude was always, “Just be grateful.” The sentiment for students like me sometimes seems to be that the Academy has saved us from our distressed situations. We are apparently just lucky to be here.

But it’s tiring to look at the Harkness table, the library and Assembly Hall everyday with this indebted attitude because then the environment you live in never truly feels like it belongs to you. After starting initiatives like First Generation Exeter (GenEx), I’m now more comfortable claiming my space on this campus and recognizing that my voice is as valid as any other around the Harkness table. Take charge of being an Exonian. Own it and use it for the benefit of others.

Three years later, the wonder and terror are (mostly) gone. I no longer spend all of Assembly block tuning out the speaker while I stare above at that beautifully grand chandelier that looms over the hall. I no longer take a deep pause whenever I enter into the library to admire the contemporary feat of Louis Kahn’s architecture. But losing the wonder doesn’t mean I’ve lost the appreciation. It just means this place finally feels like home. It’s comforting that these same daunting brick buildings seem so familiar to me. It’s been an uphill battle to call my Exeter my home. But the amazing support of a few special friends and teachers have helped me see that I truly do belong here.