At my matriculation ceremony in the chapel, our Head of School stepped in front of my fellow peers, the incoming class of 2011, and told us of her most vivid memories for each seasonal term at Phillips Academy. When I woke up, I heard applause. The speech must have been pretty good. I could only guess what had I had missed. My guess is that it played out kind of like this: Fall Term I was in my house asleep, when I heard a banging on the door. Twas half past midnight, so I was instantly worried. I crept downstairs. The doorbell rang once, twice, three times on my way downstairs. I heard the running of footsteps. I opened my door to a blank evening. I looked down. There was a pumpkin lit on fire at my feet. At first I just figured this was a new student from some foreign country I’ve never heard of – youth from every quarter, as I always say. But soon I realized this “exchange student” was melting instead of screaming with pain. I jumped on the pumpkin over and over until the flames were put out. I looked down only to see a stinky brown residue stuck to my shoes. The residue smelled lousy, and looked too large to be produced by any type of animal. Only humans could do this. On my way back inside to clean up, seven eggs pelted my house. Three of these veered off and instead of the house, hit me in various locations of my body (head, back, and rump). I was disappointed in whoever did this to me. But when I tilted my yoke-ridden head toward the romantic clock of Samuel Phillips Hall, and I knew deep down inside it was out of love. Winter Term I walk through the beautiful zig-zagging paths on the Great Lawn. A fresh fall of snow powdered the ground. I was on my way to Graham House, to talk some things out, when a rowdy group of PGs dressed in all black with numerous piercings and lots of intimidating chains slung from various pockets of their black camo army pants began strolling my way. I knew I was in for some trouble. The snow which before had so gently bordered the pathways, almost seemed to rise up to five or six foot embankments. The PGs were coming right at me, and I couldn’t turn around by this point. The next thing I remember was having my face shoved down into the dirty wet snow. “Eat it! Eat it and LIKE IT!” They yelled at me. The snow stung my face like a botched acupuncture session. I felt the hands grasping my head loosen their grip. For a moment, I felt safe. But as I rolled over, I was met by the hairy behind of one of the bullies. Oh no. I felt a warm breeze flutter across my face. The smell came next. I scampered out of the stinky situation, only to be pelted by several painful yellow snowballs. Spring Term Who can suppress the sweet smell of flowers blooming and green grass growing? I know I can’t. I can only wish that I wasn’t allergic to pollen, grass, peanut butter, trees, old people and any furred/non-furred animal. Other than my face breaking into hives, the spring term is as sweet as a fresh spring watermelon. I remember strolling behind Gelb, only to hear some grunts and whispering voices. “Shh! Stop! Somebody is coming” I walked closer towards the bush emanating the voices. Inside I saw a young man and young woman. The man’s shirt was half buttoned, as was the female’s. “What on earth is going on here?!” I asked. “Um. Nothing really,” the boy stuttered. “She just, uh, said she lost her, uh, necklace here yesterday. And we were just, uh, looking for it.” This seemed plausible. I felt bad that the boy was so nervous. Girls probably made him feel that way. I felt bad because he was probably so nervous he’d never get a shot of sleeping with that pretty girl. Poor guy. I should have helped the two out to find this necklace, but the duo seemed to have it under control.
