Questions for Late-Night Thinkers
By LUKE CHON ‘28 and JAYDEN OH ‘28
Perhaps it is the 5 p.m. darkness that never fails to cloak the streets before the conclusion of the dreaded H Format. Perhaps it is the mounds of streetside snow, once pristine and Instagram-worthy, now piles of muddied ice, seen merely as obstacles obstructing the paths to our next class. Perhaps it is the sleepless nights, the chaotic mornings, or the seemingly endless dining hall lines. Whatever it is, we’ve all experienced the tipping point of our patience before, the days when we simply run short on fuel, and it is in these anxious situations where the questions begin to unravel.
Why do we do this? How much longer? Is it worth it?
Cliché questions with cliché answers. Obviously, it’s hard, and obviously, it’s demanding. The complaints are omnipresent; yet, we, as a collective, tend to resort to the same tokens of motivation to tell us to keep going. We remind ourselves of what pushed us to come here in the first place. Perhaps our high schools back home were not ideal. Perhaps we lived in areas lacking the sufficient resources we desired. Perhaps Exeter was a deeply needed upgrade, a haven for more. We remind ourselves, and the doubt is short-lived.
But for so many others, the reasons are not as clear. Maybe our dads, moms, uncles, or aunts, whether alumni or not, single-handedly guided us through the Gateway process, packed our bags, and left us in our dorms, desperately unprepared. Maybe it was our older sisters or brothers, their previous enrollment indirectly necessitating our own. Maybe we simply needed an escape, the way we felt so out-of-place in the schools we left blindly encouraging an application to another, miles away from the homes we loved and the families that watched us go. It is these groups of students, the ones who applied to Exeter on a whim, that shy away from the cliques that swarm Agora, their stories and feelings left clamped up. It is they who ask the questions the most.
Why do we do this? How much longer? Is it worth it?
When one thinks about a topic for a lengthy enough amount of time, they begin to develop their own distinct philosophy, an attempt to address, not answer, the gravity of their own questions.
Why do we do this?
Why do we labor through all-nighters just to do it all over again the following evening? Why do we subject ourselves to a daily homework load equal to that of a week’s worth in our past schools? Are we being lazy? Ungrateful? After all, we came here fully knowing what to expect.
The bane of the overthinker.
In those long nights when caffeine is the sole tool keeping us afloat, delirium reigns, and we begin to think. Distraught and burned out, we scroll through social media posts documenting the lives of our friends back home and what we could have been. Photobooth snapshots. Bowling alleys. Ice cream sundaes and junk food galore. We reflect back on our own lives and the unspoken sacrifices we made by saying yes to Big Red. “Opportunity,” they said, and it was “opportunity” that first reeled us in. Exeter is about opportunity, and truly it is: athletic facilities unlike any other high school, incredible resources for music and the arts, and an extensive list of clubs. Golden opportunities to apply the passions we behold. But how much of this opportunity do we truly make use of? The joy of learning rests not only on the instructor but also on the students themselves. Here, time is a luxury we never appreciated enough. No time for independent reading, catching up with the news, or practicing sports and instruments while simultaneously maintaining that stellar report card. No time for regular meals out or trips to the mall with friends. A dismal irony: in many ways, opportunity is inhibited. So why do we do this?
How much longer?
To be counting down the weeks left to the end of the term goes against our very being here, but the online countdowns on our phones or the black tallies on our calendars are yet to go away. During those insomniac nights looking up at our ceiling walls, breakthroughs are made. We realize that these final four years are, perhaps, the last we’ll spend daily with family by our side. We wonder whether the positives truly outweigh the drawbacks. We look through our photo albums, and a poignant, though fleeting, emotion springs up: regret. We begin counting.
A transition to Exeter should be a transition dictated by oneself. Breaks are necessary and ideal things to look forward to, but obsessive counting contradicts the innate purpose of being here. We are Exonians because we chose to be. We waste time waiting for the next trip to Boston the immediate week we return. Why did we make this commitment at all if our primary source of excitement lies in the breaks that lay ahead?
But really, how much longer?
Is it worth it?
Something valuable to explore, for never has the future felt so unclear. For many, the goals and the ambitions, the lavish daydreams for success, have never felt so hazy. We grew up in protective armor all our lives, the depth of our own drive and knowledge enough to polish us as standouts of our class. Suddenly, although knowingly, we were thrust into an adverse field of uncertainty, wading in dense academic waters. Our priorities change, and it is humbling: rather than being number one, we are incentivized to merely survive — a radical shift. In Harkness discussions, we shrivel up when an unknown term is tossed. We walk away flustered when compared to another in a higher math placement. Whereas we were once the single knight with blade and shield, we now stand surrounded by kingdoms. Judgements sharpened and questions arose: Was I better off not coming here? Do I belong? Am I good enough?
Entangled in this flurry of questions, we rise from our chairs, eyes burning from the blue light of our laptop screens. Our frustrations brew and our heartbeats hasten. It is a familiar scene: the windows beside us reflect a world of raven black.
Alone in the night, confusion hits us with a pang. Questions left unanswered.
Why do we do this? How much longer? Is it worth it?
After a while, we sit back down to finish our homework.
