For as long as I can remember, I’ve been hungry for stories, recited dutifully by my parents until I could finally read. After plenty of fairy tales (and a few chapter books!) I was confident I could write on my own, scribbling adventures in the corners of my schoolwork or regurgitating rehashes of the media I’d consumed onto the page. Reading and writing was always my “thing.” It was my main interest, and my go-to for ice-breakers: “Hi, I’m Ellah, I’m from California, and I like to read and write.” But since coming to Andover, it’s been harder and harder to maintain that part of my identity; how do I justify being a reader if the last book I read was a month ago? How can I explain to people that I like to write if I groan about typing up a paper?
For me, these musings are a common occurrence; here, schoolwork takes center stage, and while there are plenty of opportunities to explore our interests, sometimes clubs and sports can feel like their own form of work. When the sweet relief of free time finally comes, instead of expanding my literary horizons or letting my imagination run wild, I often find myself scrolling mindlessly on my phone. When I plop into bed after a day of straining my brain, I can feel too exhausted for a stimulating hobby, opting for something mindless instead. Andover’s rigorous lifestyle makes it hard to maintain my hobbies, or, even worse, turns them into fluff for college application. The passions that once defined me are now evaporating slowly, turning into obligations themselves rather than sources of joy and self-care — and it’s up to us, day by day, club by club, to change our mindsets.
Fostering an environment where guiltless, passion-driven fun is encouraged is the whole goal of clubs. They are a sort of accountability measure, a way to be sure you are pursuing your hobbies instead of procrastinating on your dreams in addition to providing a shared space for book lovers, or artists, or mathletes. But clubs can start to feel like a laundry list of commitments if we refuse to take a step back and decide why we are doing them. It sounds obvious, but we must frame our hobbies as fun and exciting, and I fear that sometimes clubs can turn them into extra classes, or a personal attempt to prove to yourself — and others — that you are who you say you are. Yes, I’m a math person because I joined the math club. I am a scientist because I joined the biology club. I write for The Phillipian. I do book clubs. That makes me a writer… Right? Only after I put down the phone and work to rekindle my passions, a process that I take one book or even article at a time, will I be ready to rejoin a community of others who share my love for words. In my opinion, the cure for passions that become items to check off some list, or hobbies that turn into identities we must starkly defend, lies inside each and every one of us; clubs are wonderful resources, but it’s up to us to use them properly.
At Andover, clubs are plentiful and varied in commitment; some never meet, while others gather weekly. Being a part of one club, or many, can define an Andover student; I remember touring Andover, jaw-dropped as tour guides introduced themselves by their names and clubs. I’ve been to club meetings, and they are what they decide to be, from formal debates to casual munches or discussions. Clubs can be a perfect example of guilt-free, pure fun — or they can be events that you drag your feet to, depending on how you perceive them.
Finding a place where you can practice your hobby in an uncompetitive manner just feels good; when I finally do sit down and write a story, or read a book, I am so much better for it. It’s easy to feel inadequate while caught up in the webs of technology, or social media; it’s impossible to deny that scrolling is fun, but, for me, it’s a guilty, sticky sort of fun. Doing things that you truly enjoy, things that may not be “productive” or even school-related but are still stimulating and creative, is real fun: it’s stress-free pleasure. I think mindset is the key to reclaiming this joy.
Personally, I am going to take back my hobbies by reframing activities like reading or writing as activities that I “get to do” with my free time as opposed to assignments that I “have to do.” Instead of focusing on the identity of being a “reader” or a “writer,” I will begin to rediscover the actions of reading and writing themselves. Finally, I am going to pause clubs until I know I’m going for the right reasons.
Andover can feel like a crucible of commitments, clubs, and classes. It can feel like watching your classmates each stamped with a specific “brand,” and feeling like you’re lying to everyone else, to yourself, with every icebreaker. As a school, it is our job to transform our interests from checklists that prove we are who we say we are, into personal hobbies — for our own sake. That all starts with redefining our club culture.
