Coming to Exeter
By: Anna Kim
To all of our newly admitted students, congratulations! The thrilling feeling of receiving an acceptance email is one I will never forget. Perhaps you have already set your mind on Exeter, or perhaps you are unsure.
As an incoming prep preparing to go to school almost 500 miles away from home during a pandemic, I had many concerns about how I would fit in. Two terms later, some of my worries have been answered, but some still haven’t. Yes, I have had late nights and stressful tests. No, I can’t say that I’ve found my people yet, or that I’ve never felt awkward in a conversation. However, I can confidently say that you will meet incredible people here, and you will learn so much from them.
When I received my Exeter acceptance packet in the mail, I was exhilarated. When I received my first graded math test of the term, I was devastated. I had gotten As in middle school; that was what I expected of myself. When I came to Exeter, I knew that the transition would be rough, but I didn’t expect it to hit me as hard as it did. I’ve cried over math in middle school before, but here, it was constant.
When friends complained about receiving 90s on their tests, I quietly drifted out of the conversation. A 90 was the grade I would be jumping up and down for. A 90 was the grade I stayed up late studying for, only for my hopes to be dashed and beaten down by reality. Even in the classes I considered my strongest, I felt isolated. I would zone out for a minute in English to then discover the class had moved on to an entirely different subject: Doaker’s hidden meaning and symbolism in his monologue about the train instead of a brother-sister dynamic. It was draining. Why was I never good enough? When would I be good enough? Everyone around me seemed afloat. Everyone here was good at something or at everything. And I was good at nothing. Nothing.
Why was I accepted to Exeter? I’ve thought about that question a lot since coming here. There are students here with national records in swim. There are those who can run a sub-6 minute mile, and then there are others with callused fingertips as they practice their instruments for hours. There are some who are secretly or not so secretly math geniuses, and still others who can write beautiful prose. Where did I fit into that puzzle? This community that Exeter presented didn’t emerge right away for me.
As I have adjusted to Exeter and its rigor, imposter syndrome strikes flares now and then. I have days where I feel so confident in my descriptive paragraph or in explaining homologous chromosomes, and then others where I’m confused about the differences between meiosis I and meiosis II, or why the fall of Roman Empire has anything to do with nature. I’m told that I’ll get this club head position, or that I’m good at this, so I should “stop feeling so inferior.” It somehow rings hollow. Why me? What makes me so special and good to deserve being at Exeter?
Some things greatly help ease away feelings of inferiority—like signing up for cross country. At the time, I didn’t know why I had clicked the register button. I had never heard of diagonals, and I had never run over five miles. If it was raining, I wouldn’t go outside much less run through the rain. All this changed my prep fall.
I showed up to that practice already looking forward to the end of the term. I immediately doubted athleticism, and wondered if I’d even be able to fit in socially.
The coach clapped her hands together and brought the attention of twenty-some girls. Suddenly, cheers—“let’s have a great season!” - “Go XC!”—rang through our group crowd. Unexpectedly, that first day is now ingrained into my memories. Coach Coogan told us to go on a “social run”. “Get to know each other! Have fun!” I loosened up a little, and off we went into the trails. The older teammates peppered us with friendly questions, and I could sense everyone’s smiles beneath their masks.
Later that evening, I called my parents and told them how fun my first cross country practice had been. Almost two months later, at the end of fall term, I was telling my parents the same story. The memories, the advice from the upperclassmen, the friendships—it gave me what I wanted so desperately from Exeter.
You’ll get to bake banana bread with other preps and upperclassmen at 1 a.m. You’ll find people who will listen to you ramble about your worries for hours. You’ll find people that will answer your frantic texts at 12 a.m. because you didn’t understand your math homework. You’ll meet upperclassmen who listen for hours to your rants about your friendship struggles. You’ll meet upperclassmen who bear with you contacting them at 1 a.m. with sudden inspirational ideas. You will receive so many open invitations from other Exonians as they extend their warm personalities to you.
I recently read Sam Weil’s ’20 senior reflection, where she discusses “connection through suffering.” That’s what’s great about Exeter. I came thinking that it wouldn’t be easy, and it is indeed hard. Brutally hard. Some days, I’m able to finish my homework early and watch Netflix all night. On others, I just have to tell myself to do the work and continue to push on.
Exeter, at its core, is a welcoming place filled with welcoming people. I learned this on my first days on campus, and still feel it now as I exchange greetings on the paths and express thanks as I pick up my food. I realize that the hardest times can be some of the best times. Vulnerability allows us to realize the strength of our community—a strength that the Exeter community embodies which comforts me whenever I feel incapable. I’m beyond excited to continue to experience the strength of this community—and I am sure, when you arrive, you will too.