One evening, I walked to Borden Gym for Cluster Dodgeball, expecting the kind of unifying energy that usually accompanies anything labeled “school-wide.” The format of the event seemed promising: students from each cluster would come together, form teams, and those not participating would cheer for their peers on the bleachers. Yet as I stepped inside Borden, the gym was filled with fewer people and a weaker atmosphere than I had imagined. A similar feeling lingered weeks later, when I attended the winter pep rally with my friends. When we arrived, several left after getting food, and our group quickly shrank to just a few. In both moments, nothing was obviously lacking; the events were organized properly, and those who were present participated with great enthusiasm. However, something about them felt incomplete. It was strange how a place as full as Andover could still feel this disconnected. I thought about why this was the case.
Over Spring break, I was reminded of the day last year when I received my acceptance letter. I was overjoyed and almost instantly scheduled my revisit in mid-March. The most memorable experience during the revisit for me was the talent show. While the performances themselves were engaging and impressive, what stayed with me most was something else: the act of cheering and enjoying the show together with the Andover community. In those moments, I felt like I belonged.
Looking back, that sense of belonging I felt at Andover came not from events, but from the act of sharing an experience together. It was the same kind of bonding that people feel when watching an intense game of sports, rooting for the same team. Everyone in the room, though briefly, aligned into applauding, performing, enjoying, and sharing something communal. That was what made the night memorable and what made the community feel so whole.
In contrast, the moments that felt incomplete during the Cluster Dodgeball and the winter pep rally mentioned earlier were lacking in that same shared willingness to be present. Without that, even the most well-planned, well-funded events can feel lackluster, never fully becoming the communal experience it was meant to be.
This isn’t to say that participation is always easy, or that students deliberately choose to avoid these events. At Andover, time often has to be distributed across academic responsibilities, extracurricular commitments, and personal rest. After long days or before important tests, staying in rather than attending an event can be reasonable and necessary. In this context, the absence of collective energy is not the result of disengagement but of the many personal responsibilities that outweigh engagement.
At the same time, these demands make moments of collective experience matter so much. Just like how a group chat dies after the physical separation of a group, a community is something that has to be actively created. Pep rallies and Cluster Dodgeball are meaningful because they offer a structured opportunity to step outside individual routines and share something together. When students choose to show up, they transform these events from organized gatherings into something genuinely communal. Without that shared engagement, the sense of connection many students seek remains incomplete.
Ultimately, the unifying sense of belonging I felt during my revisit was not exclusive to that one revisit night; it was an example of what community Andover can be at its best. That same feeling is not out of reach, nor is it limited to special events. It exists in the moments when individuals come together to collectively engage with each other. Sometimes, the difference between a place that feels full and one that feels connected begins with something as simple as choosing to show up.
