When I first received that email telling me I’d gotten into Phillips Academy Andover, I was told, over and over again, that I would no longer be a big fish in the small pond of our middle school. Andover was a raging ocean, and I’d just be a tiny little tadpole swimming amongst the mythical, serpentine dragons that inhabited stories and legends. As I stepped into orientation, I’d shake every new person’s hand, and I’d think, “What type of dragon are you? What got you into Phillips Academy Andover?” I felt like I had to pretend to be someone better than I really was, a tadpole putting on a mask and trying to look fierce.
Fall Term was a gorgeous, red-and-gold blur. In those first weeks, I can’t count how many times I’d gotten lost. Or how many nights I spent lying in my bed late at night, staring across the unexplored expanse of ocean and thinking, “What am I doing here?” I made the inevitable mistake of signing up for way too many clubs and jumping at every opportunity that presented itself to me. I struggled to juggle sports with academics, with extracurriculars, or with free time. I was confused and curious and everything in between. Yet while my life was wonderfully chaotic, to my surprise, even as the leaves slowly fell off the trees, I hadn’t lost any confidence.
Whether it was trying to debate for the first time in Philo or touching a robot for the first time with the Robotics team, I was greeted with encouragement and support rather than the scrutiny I was expecting. Though I was huffing and puffing up over an overwhelmingly steep learning curve, I wasn’t climbing it alone. I was surrounded by some of the kindest, most supportive, and coolest people I’d ever met. Anywhere I looked, Andover’s community opened up and welcomed me. I was a tadpole struggling to ride the fierce current, but there were dragons beside me, teaching me to grow scales and claws and horns. Instead of losing self-confidence, I gained it, daring to do more and try more in the face of every mistake I made.
Armed with support, I stepped into Winter Term with relatively high spirits. I was instantaneously humbled. Despite all I thought I’d learned from the Fall, Winter Term was rough. I would wake up as I’ve done in the Fall term, go to my classes, and participate in my sport. I was still surrounded by the same people and doing the same things. Yet every day, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being… lost. I wasn’t sure what to do. It was as if everyone else was strolling down the “right” way to “do Andover”, while I was still trying to find my own path. I realised quickly that I only had 24 hours a day, and I struggled to prune the mess of clubs I’d joined in the Fall. The question ringing around in my mind changed from “what am I doing here?” to “what am I doing?”, a subtle yet sharp difference.
As time trudged sluggishly on in the bitter cold, I grew closer and closer to those around me. My view on them began to shift. After all, the kids I passed in the halls weren’t just talented and skilled strangers anymore, they were the kids I’d suffered together with in CHM550B, or the students who came up with incredibly hilarious skits in THD921, or the friends I’d watch TV shows and goof around with. I may have idolised them in the past, but by doing so, I had dehumanized them too. Winter Term made me see that, funnily enough, those around me were as “lost” as I was. We were all searching for our own path through this school, in our own way. The notion of a “big fish” and a “small fish” suggested superiority and inferiority, but if anyone asked me, I wouldn’t even be able to tell them who the “top 10 best kids” in my grade were, let alone the “best” one. Each and every person had their own strong suits and passions, as well as weaknesses and flaws. Most importantly, I realised that it wasn’t a bad thing to not have everything figured out. No one, and I repeat, no one, comes into Phillips Academy fully certain of how they would spend their time here. It was okay to experiment with clubs, to join things late and mess things up, as long as you got back up and kept searching, kept trying. Even those who looked like dragons still felt like tadpoles sometimes.
If the endless white of Winter taught me it was alright to be lost, then the first blossoms of Spring taught me that it was okay to ask for help. Nothing could have prepared me for Spring Term. Nothing could have prepared anyone for Spring Term. Amidst the grief and shock, for the first time since arriving on campus, I truly felt like I had no motivation. The constant pressure to work as hard as I could – getting good grades, studying properly for tests, and even just being enthusiastic in class – weighed down on me, and as school work gradually piled up, I found it harder and harder to keep up. However, my struggle opened my eyes to all the support that I was surrounded by. My house counsellors always had their doors open for a conversation, my friends brightened up my days and kept me smiling and laughing, and my family was only a single phone call away. After some encouragement, I tried counselling at Sykes for the first time, and walked away equipped with a lighter heart and advice on ways to healthily process all the emotions I’d been going through. Yes, Spring Term was hard. And yes, Phillips Academy itself, is hard. But I wasn’t alone in my struggle, and no matter where I looked, I was met with blossoming pink petals and the most supportive community I’d ever been a part of.
If I could rewind time to that fateful day when I pondered over my final decision to come to Phillips Academy, what would I change? My answer: absolutely nothing. I would say yes, a million times over. 7 months ago, I was a different person, a mere tadpole. Coming here, I have learned so much: I’ve learned to dare and I’ve learned to grow. I’ve learned to take care of myself, to balance high standards while giving myself time and grace, I’ve learned to grieve, and I’ve learned to love… and most importantly, I’ve learned how much I have yet to learn.
As the dawn of Lower Year appears on the horizon, I’m faced with a new expanse of unexplored ocean. But this time, I know that I’m no tadpole. I’m part of one of the greatest communities I’ve ever been in, and together, we can step up to any challenge that comes our way. So, bring it on!
