Andover. If you had asked me two years ago what that word meant, I would’ve probably suggested a small town in England. The 13-year-old me had never heard of this school, much less imagined studying here, a place more than 7,400 miles away from home.
Two years later, here I am, writing this article in my dorm room. I look out the window to find a grey sky, cloudy, with puddles on the sidewalk. Bare trees sway slightly in the wind to the throbbing melody of dancing raindrops. The chapel stands tall, its steeple towering above. Seven months ago, I would’ve been surprised by this unfamiliar sight every time I looked out. Now, not so much.
The first few days here were hard. The temperature back then was already equivalent to the coldest of winter days back home, and I had neglected to bring sufficiently warm clothing. In Hong Kong, humidity and heat cling to you like an overzealous lover, only escapable through the inextricable use of air conditioners. Here, heat flees you by its own will. When I remarked to a friend about how cold it was, he laughed. “You can’t be serious. This is warm.” As the whistling wind danced along the fallen leaves littered across the path, I could only laugh back. This was in October.
The weather was just the beginning. Any food that could genuinely be called “Chinese” was at least an hour away by delivery. My family and the friends I had known since first grade were half a world away, separated by a 12-hour time difference. The sun would sink below the horizon at four in the afternoon, as if swallowed by the long night.
In those first days, I seriously questioned my decision to come to Andover. Everything was so different, and I felt like a stranger. But every time I doubted my decision, I would always remember why I decided to come here — to seek better opportunities for learning and growth, to challenge myself in ways I couldn’t back home, and to step out of my comfort zone. These were my goals when I first decided to apply, and I couldn’t just walk away without trying first.
Seven months later, I am happy that I stayed. I have learned and grown a lot since coming to Andover, in academics, sports, and so much more. The opportunities here are endless, no matter your interest. Being able to work with and document real artifacts dating back to the Neolithic Age every week in the Robert S. Peabody Institute of Archeology, for example, is something I would’ve never thought I would be able to do, especially as a high school student.
As time passed, I would grow to realise how much fun Andover could be. There were small things — going downtown with friends on a Friday afternoon after All-School Meeting, the leaves just starting to turn red and the temperature just right; the enthusiasm of my classmates to help with a video project, despite their busy schedules; cycling back to the dorm as the sunset turns the sky into a cascade of pinks and oranges and purples, the bell tower standing tall in the distance; cheering together in Andover/Exeter; going on away games with amazing teammates and feeling each other’s support in tough matches.
Through everyday details like these, I realized that Andover is where I belong. Choosing to move here was my own choice, and looking back, I do not regret my decision at all. If you asked me what Andover meant to me now, the answer would be simple. Home.
