My mother never loved New Year’s resolutions because she believed they were useless. On the contrary, I loved coming up with them. Each year, I would decide to go to the gym regularly, learn how to cook a new dish every month, or finally learn how to ride a bike.
My mother would always sigh, pat me on the back, and say, “Alex, there’s no point in making a New Year’s Resolution.” My mother believed that setting a big, flashy goal for the end of the year, despite sounding nice, was daunting when one embarked on their pursuit to achieve it. She wanted me to set smaller, more manageable goals. If I hoped to accomplish something by the end of the year, I couldn’t just talk about setting a New Year’s Resolution. I had to form a plan and act on it.
She had a valid point, since I still don’t know how to ride a bike.
Therefore, you can imagine my surprise when we sat down at a cozy restaurant with some friends on the dawn of January 1, 2025, and she suddenly stated, “Let’s talk about New Year’s Resolutions!” Picture this: dim candlelight illuminated the table and faint wisps of conversation drifted by in the background. My friend and I: dazed Juniors grateful for a relaxing break after our first term in high school, looked up attentively as we waited for the food to arrive. My mother pulled up a list of questions she’d written on her phone:
What was the biggest risk you’ve taken in 2024?
What was the biggest challenge you’ve faced in 2024?
What is the best decision you made in 2024?
As we moved through the questions, I realized that I could answer most of them with one word: Andover.
Although Junior Fall was probably one of my academically lightest terms at Andover, it felt like it had the steepest learning curve. Settling in at Andover wasn’t as smooth as I imagined it would be. I’d always heard friends and family talk fondly of the lifelong friends and unforgettable memories they’d made at boarding school. Stepping into the Underwood Room during New International Student Orientation, I was greeted by a sea of unfamiliar faces. While I was undoubtedly excited, I was also plagued by doubt. What if I couldn’t make friends? What if I wasn’t responsible enough to live alone? This worry lingered over me like a dreary fog throughout my first few weeks at the school. I felt lonelier than ever, and at times, utterly clueless, tearily calling my parents and friends back at home in the evenings. I had to adapt to living alone, learning the hard way to set reminders for my homework and laundry, as well as regularly forcing myself to clean up my mess of a room.
But soon, I discovered something important: I was, in fact, very wrong. I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by one of the most supportive communities I’d ever been in. I realized that everyone, at some point, had felt just as lost and lonely as I did, and always offered to help out despite how busy they were. I tentatively started taking advantage of resources like the Writing Center, the ASC, and conference period. I hung out downtown with friends on the weekends, leafing through The Phillipian together in search of Shoyu vouchers. Motivated by a community of hard workers, I learned from my peers and pushed myself harder. As weeks began to blur, and the Wednesday night munches steadily went by, I realized I no longer felt out of place. Eventually, walking from class to class became a steady, reliable rhythm. The sea of strangers I’d first been so intimidated by turned into classmates, and then friends. I began seeing the red-brick building in the far corner of the Quads, glowing faintly golden in the night, as home.
Stepping into a new year, and a relatively new term, the doubts that I had haven’t completely disappeared. However, the New Year gave me a chance to reflect upon what Fall Term taught me. I noticed that the worries that were swirling around in my mind prevented me from stepping outside my comfort zone. I stuck to the subjects I was good at, chose to opt out of clubs I no longer had time for, and stuck to people I felt happy to be around. I decided to set a New Year’s Resolution for myself: to widen the range of people I choose to hang out with, step outside of my comfort zone, and talk to a couple of strangers. Perhaps I’ll find a lifelong friend or two!
The New Year is a chance for us to reflect upon the past, upon things that we’re proud of, as well as mistakes that we’ve made. My New Year Resolutions for 2025 are not the flamboyant goals my mother dislikes, or the ones I forget about within a few weeks. Instead, they are the mindset and attitudes with which I will face the challenges of 2025!
