Struggles at Boarding School

Boarding school was supposed to be a good change for me. Middle school wasn’t a good part of my life. Boarding school. A new beginning where I could make new friends that I could keep for the rest of my life. If I expected to magically find a balance between academics and social life, I was sorely disappointed. Boarding school was not how I imagined it to be.

In July of 2014, I began packing for school, which was three hours from home. I had to pack the essentials like bedding and school supplies. Then, of course, I had to get room decor like funky pillows, a calendar, and some organizers for my desk supplies and clothes. I’m all about colors and organization! August came along and just like that, it was two weeks ‘till orientation.

August 15, 2014. My parents drove me to boarding school with all my belongings. As we got closer to the school, I felt the first day jitters creep up. We got there around 10:30 in the morning. It was like a zoo trying to get any parking spots near the main building, which was where you checked into. They gave me my room number and the name of my roommate. I was so excited to meet her and get to know her! The room was on the second floor and the last door on the left. My roommate was already unpacked, her stuff was all over the room. Her name was Ella Allen. As could have been expected, our first interaction was a little awkward. The room was small. Ella and I both had mezzanine beds with dressers underneath. I had a desk between our beds and Ella’s was at the end of her bed. My side was slightly smaller because there was a bump out, but I didn’t mind. Ella used the bit of extra room she had to put a smaller dresser next to her “closet” for extra stuff. The “closet” was a tall structure that had some space to hang clothes and two drawers at the bottom. It took three trips to bring all my stuff up from the car. Then, Ella and I walked together to the main building for orientation. Talking to her, I realized that she already knew many people at school. At orientation, the headmaster said a few words about what freshman year would be like and what not to worry about. Then we all went back to our dormitories and I was finally able to start unpacking. My parents and I said our goodbyes and of course my mom got emotional. Last bird to fly the coop! It only took me about an hour and a half to get most of my belongings unpacked. I thought that I should try to connect with some people, get a feel of who I’d like to be friends with, so I went to the common room.

I couldn’t help but feel nervous when I got there, because everyone seemed so connected already. I tried to put my insecurities aside and walked up to a girl who seemed nice . She didn’t really acknowledge my “Hi!”, but I didn’t give up. I asked her where she was from and said: “My name is Alexandra and I’m from Longmeadow, Massachusetts.” She said she was from Connecticut, but then stood up to leave the common room with everyone else. Not a very successful first attempt at socializing, to say the least! I started to feel an overwhelming amount of nervousness and anxiety and tried to convince myself, “It’s the first day. There’s so many other people to potentially be friends with,” to calm down my nerves. I went back to my dorm room and unpacked the rest of my possessions.

By the time I finished unpacking, it was around 6:30. Despite my awkward social experience in the afternoon, I went to the cafeteria determined to talk to people. It was so crowded I almost ran back to my dorm, but I was really hungry and I had to finish the day on a good note. I got some caesar salad and spaghetti and meatballs and sat with a group of upperclassmen. They were very nice to me and welcomed me to campus. They asked me what teachers I had this year and what language I was taking. Their opinions reassured me. Some teachers were good, others bad, but it did not sound like anything I couldn’t handle. They warned me about the geometry teacher. They said he was a really good teacher but strict and assigned loads of homework. I told them I was taking Spanish and they said the teacher was nice and assigned little to no homework. They told me that the best place to study was the library because no one worked on homework in the library. Most people studied in their dorm rooms or in classrooms. After dinner, I went back to my dorm feeling a lot more relaxed about the next day. I started to get ready for classes: I packed notebooks, folders, sticky notes, index cards, pens, and pencils into a smaller bag, then filled my backpack with all my textbooks. I went to bed around 9:30 that evening, which was relatively early for my bedtime. I wanted to be well-rested and awake for the first day of classes! Ella came back into the room a couple hours later. She wasn’t aware and clearly didn’t care that I was sleeping and she was very noisy while moving around the room. I played some music on my Airpods to fall asleep, but I should have realized that Ella’s behavior was a red flag.

The next morning I woke up at 7:00 to have plenty of time to get ready for my first class at 8:45. Ella was still sleeping when I woke up. Despite her racket the previous night, I quietly went into the bathroom and came back to the room to get dressed and get ready for the day. Classes ran from 8:45 to 3:45. Most of my teachers had the same demeanor. They were friendly and looked you in the eye. My algebra teacher was strict and a no nonsense teacher. My favorite teacher was my English teacher. She was really nice and talked in-depth about the books we were going to read.

After class I went to a nearby coffee shop called The Daily Grinds to do some work for class. After about an hour, I went to drop off my stuff in my room and headed down to dinner. I sat with some girls in my grade but they weren’t as friendly to me as the upperclassmen. It didn’t bother me that much because I assumed that they were probably just trying to find their way on campus, just like I was. I went back to my room and started to think about ways I could socialize more. Although it was only the first day, I felt that I needed to make connections quickly if I didn’t want to end up being excluded from every group on campus. I couldn’t think of many ideas to socialize besides going to the common room or the cafeteria, which had not yielded the best results so far. Maybe connecting with my roommate would be a good start to making friends, but I felt a little awkward just joining her friend group. I couldn’t really think of other options, though! Kill two birds with one stone, right?

The next couple of weeks consisted in going to school, studying, and attempting to spend time with Ella and her friends. School work was relatively easy and the teachers all turned out to be great. I began involving myself in the community and more people talked to me in the halls and during meals. Also at night, sometimes the dorm parents made food for the dorm which was so much fun. The dorm called it “dorm food”. We had a group chat and whenever “dorm food” was ready they would say “dorm food ready”. On the other hand, Ella and I didn’t ever talk in the room together other than an occasional “Hi.” Ella didn’t seem too happy that I was trying to join her friend group. She always had an annoyed look. A look, glare, and attitude that looked like she was annoyed with my presence. I didn’t know why. After a while, I began getting irritated with her. I tried being nice to her but she seemed like she didn't want to connect at all. Weeks went by and I finally worked up the courage to ask her what her problem was. Her response was that she was just stressed out with schoolwork. I didn’t believe that. I thought that that response was just made up. Why would someone be annoyed with someone for weeks on end because they were stressed out with schoolwork? It didn’t make sense. When I told my parents about what had happened, they believed that she could’ve been honest. My response to that was that Ella just didn’t like me and made up a dumb excuse.

It was almost winter break and the thing that people wanted to avoid had finally arrived. Mid-terms. I can’t even fathom the name. Everyone was stressed out about it. Everyone was on each other’s nerves. Ella and I were especially on each other’s nerves. We compromised that one of us would stay in the room and the other would go to the library. Separation between us was much needed. When Ella and I got back from winter break, we decided to establish some rules to help us get through the rest of the year smoothly. New Year, new rules. We made rules to make the rest of the year go smoothly. Luckily, both of us followed the rules which slowly but surely would eventually become the foundation of our friendship. In January, my parents called me one night and told me that they were getting a divorce. They had already told my older siblings and told them not to tell me. It shocked me. Like every child, you would never think about your parents getting divorced. My parents explained that they'd thought about making this decision earlier but they didn’t want to impact me and my siblings when we were younger. They elucidated that there were things that both bothered them that they couldn’t get past and they grew apart as they got older. The divorce was going to be finalized in a week.

During March break, my siblings and I went back home so my parents could explain further about the divorce. When my dad pulled up into the driveway, everyone looked at each other. He had the audacity to bring his new girlfriend. In my mind, I was thinking What the heck? Why would he bring his new girlfriend in a time of turmoil in our family? Everyone had to brace ourselves for what was about to happen. I was feeling some anger but mostly confusion. In a matter of seconds, I made up my mind that I didn’t need to hear from him or see his new girlfriend. I stormed out of the living room and went to my room. I locked myself in my room and cried for hours. My dad came up to check on me but I ignored him. After the coast was clear, I walked downstairs and out of the house. I got on my bike and rode for 2 hours straight, not giving a care in the world.

Ella and I made it to finals week. We made it through our exams successfully without any arguments. The last day on campus crept up on us. While packing my stuff, I was actually sad that I was leaving. I didn’t think that I would be sad given the challenges I faced with Ella. When we were almost finished, Ella tapped me on the shoulder and told me she was sorry for all the drama she caused. She told me that she had some family issues. She explained that her dad cheated on her mom with his secretary and ever since that happened her relationship with her dad was ruined. I said I was sorry and explained my situation with my parents getting a divorce. She said she was sorry for my situation and that I could talk to her if I wanted to. Our moms came early and we asked them if we could stay at the dorm for an extra hour. We ordered a pizza and talked for 40 minutes. It was the most fun, deepest talk I had with Ella. At the end of our conversation, we decided that we were going to be roommates next year and connect over the summer break.

Seomae Aronson ‘25

Haunted

Never have I thought that ghosts were real A life of luck, pressure, and sometimes despair This was not the way I was ever supposed to feel All I know is that the sound of your echos is more like a chant Scratching and clawing at my ears while I sleep I feel faint, and talking to others ends in a rant No one believes me.

You whisper I love you, but I am not sure who you are I sometimes forget and pretend we were not real Flashbacks are pain and open an old healing scare If heaven is absolute, then hell must be too Fables and tales never resonated as good or bad I must know what is true Where did you go?

Let me be free Believing in God was a hard enough task “I will do anything please just agree” Your haunting hurts now more than ever At that moment, I finally understood It was not you holding on to this fantasy.

It was me.

I know who you are I know you better than that I killed you Now that I accept this, maybe I can move on I hope more than ever that heaven is real

Now I believe in ghosts.

Ava Churchill ‘25

Ignorance is Bliss

If you know or do not know How will they know? Silence is gold, ignorance is bliss How can You live a happy life? The answer is this

Do not strain your mind with the constant misery of this world Instead, feel serene That situation has nothing to do with you Think only for yourself When even this gets to be too much Stop

Some would say I’m being selfish And they are correct But that’s the thing I choose to ignore

This is the key to living a happy life Silence is gold, ignorance is bliss Take my advice or don’t This may be the only way to resist darkness

Nevertheless, do what you want I don’t care

Ava Churchill ‘25

Another skipped beat. He wasn't imagining it. A sharp pain in his legs. He had a couple more weeks at most. "God dammit. 8? Yeah, no false alarms this time. Taous is dying. Set up the ceremony quickly and prepare Rashella. I know it's short notice, but a failing heart isn't exactly gonna wait until it's most convenient! I know, I know, just, get it done." He set down the receiver and sighed. Better prepare for the end and talk to Taous again. He closed his eyes and thought.

A yellow and blue wizard wandered through the endless void. The landscape was a smooth, endless grey. Peaceful, if a bit repetitive. It was odd, he couldn't remember how long he had been here, all he knew was that it was a very long time. That is why the sound of footsteps caught him off guard. He turned around and saw an old friend.

It was nice to know he had been useful for a while.

"Hello Zire, it's been a long time, hasn't it? How long did my body run for?"

"Almost 900 years, very impressive. I'm sorry you didn't get to live those years, you could have had a long and happy life."

"I already told you, I was, and still am, more than happy to be you. You introduced me to so many interesting people and gave my life meaning, I would never go back."

"Glad to hear that Taous. Glad to hear."

They stood in silence for a while.

"In a bit, you'll get another wizard to talk to."

"Who is it?"

"A wonderful wizard named Rashella, she is very dedicated. Be sure to welcome her, ok? I understand that there are not many humans here to talk to compared to the others."

"I'll do that."

Taous blinked, and Zire was gone.

Taous resumed walking.

Rashella walked briskly down the hallways of the capital building. Today was the day she had been working towards all her life, the day she would get to truly meet Mr. Bright, the day her face would become the leader of Maretania, and continue the sacred mission. She double-checked her uniform and steadied her breath, she couldn't afford to mess this up. She puffed up her chest and stepped through the doors to the inner sanctum. Inside she saw Taous standing on a raised platform, a couple scribes, and the 12 of the Obsidian Council standing behind Taous. She walked up to the platform and stood proud in front of Taous. "Rashella, are you ready to give your mind, forever in service to Maretania?" "Yes." "Are you prepared for the responsibility that this position holds?" "Yes." The ceremony was mostly formalities she knew. Her being prepared would hold no sway in how Maretania was run, and her willingness was hashed out years ago when she became leader of the Red Right Hand. All that was left to do, was embrace the final step. "Then you will bare the weight of the Council Medallion from now on. May Maretania be forever bright." Rashella lowered her head. Slowly, Taous took his medallion and rested it around her neck.

Rashella knew the change would be sudden, but she was not expecting this. All around her was just emptiness, with small pinpricks of movement far off on the horizon. She was then acutely aware that someone was standing behind her. She turned around and saw a tall gangly monster. It had smooth skin and was topped with orange hair.

"Hello Rashella, it's nice to meet face to face. I'm Zire Bright."

Rashella didn't know what to say. She had heard from Taous what he looked like, but it was very different seeing it firsthand. She thought of a million different things to say, but none of them seemed like the right thing. She finally stammered out a quick response, and almost immediately regretted it.

"Hello Zire, I hope my face is useable."

Bright snorted slightly and looked amused. "Don't worry, you will do great. When I'm not here, go and meet the others, they are surprisingly good company."

"I'll do that. Thank you again for this opportunity."

"No, thank you."

And Zire was gone again. David Gallagher Jr. ‘25

Aunque las páginas del libro de mi vida estén llenas, no arrancaré algunas de ellas, ya que representan lecciones aprendidas, vivencias, triunfos y fracasos. Al final, es mi vida. Y realmente no creo que hayan personas interesadas en ayudarme a rectificar o enmendar, lo que el tiempo guardó o cerró como capítulo pasado, transitado y vivido.

Today must have been Friday everywhere, many angels have fallen to the pavement from rooftops. Friday is not a day, but a compound tense subjunctive, future, present, past perfect.

A customs post on the border that separates the living from the surviving. It must have been Friday and you were not there. But your absence is advancing viscously like dense lava. Your soul surrounds me, somnambulant, celestial determined to turn weightlessly inside me emerging from everywhere, bursting with everything returning to nothingness, that synonym of a Friday night and an empty bed.

In the back alley, near the park you will find 317 Lane. My family has owned 317 for years, longer than anyone can even remember. No one knows why my family possesses it, the origin is unknown. But it has always been there, lurking around the back alleys of a dirty city corner. Squished between a dark brick residential building and a skyscraper completely made of windows. Even with its lack of walls you still cannot see into the offices, the panes are tinted a furtive black; the sheen of the light being reflected back to the sun seems soulless in a way. The house goes relatively unnoticed, until the persevering sun reaches its high point in the sky and light hits the windows. Fractals of multicolored and translucent light hit the gray pavement. The residence is a quaint two-story building, built from bricks that have been dirtied over the years. Every few years someone in the family takes it upon themselves to try and clean the dirt moss covered bricks. The ruffage always returns. The house used to be topped with a wooden roof, but then someone renovated it to be more “modern.” Along the front and sides, fragmented stained-glass windows look out on the street. Some show detailed stories, filled with miscellaneous scraps of color. The glass was collected over the generations. Most people in the family contribute, adding a bit here and there throughout the years. But there is still space for more windows, more pieces. A hollow frame sits on the second floor facing another building. We are so close to other apartments, these an assortment of old and new, that you can look into the living spaces. A man folding laundry, sitting to eat, holding a telescope. This hollow frame sits there waiting to be filled, the memories to be trapped, collected, put together with pieces of half cleaned bottles. Our family is lucky to have this house because it stands in a very prized part of town. The building has many potential buyers. I try to advise against letting my family have house tours because I know that, if a specific type of person visits, someone inclined to detail, and if they notice the intricate and thoughtful windows shining light splintered color through the room, they might ask, if they are feeling exceptionally empathetic that day, what the pains in the windows are made of.

And I know that at this question, the house will decide to simply collapse onto itself. Self-destruct and voluntarily implode. Lapse over its secrets. Starting from the top and spiraling down the staircase, old wood slamming harshly into the floor, left laying silently on the ground. If the person makes it out alive, they should hope to never come again. Because you see, this type of glass was never intended to be used as anything permanent Its original purpose was as a pastime at dinner or a party. But no, my family decided to build a house from it. I started to wonder if the beauty of these windows is worth being built if they are bound to shatter. Is the creation, the beauty, worth it if it destroys itself in the end? Does its death give it more meaning? Or will the rafters and windows collapsed on the soil also be forgotten, like everything else on the worn street.

But for the time being, before anyone particularly curious shows up, we tell the buyers that the windows are made of sea glass, found on mild afternoon walks along the ocean. We tell them something pretty, something that fits right.

Giovanna Messina ‘27

“This baby’ll get you across that delaware faster than a rat in the lamplight.” said Mr. Price, the shipbuilder that had been hired for the mission. George stared at the boat curiously. It was unlike any he had seen before. He looked up from the white siding of the dinghy into the beaming face of Mr. Price, and asked cautiously:

“And what purpose, my good man, might those… devices… serve?”

Mr. Price’s smile widened even further.

“Those are gonna be the outboard motors Mr. President, state-of-the-art. They’ll give you about a hundred and twenty horsepower each, so with these two on a straightaway you could be getting up to forty knots, easy.”

Mr. Price slapped the side of one of the motors enthusiastically as he spoke, admiring his boat with the look of a man who's just been dealt a royal flush when the table’s all in. George was getting more concerned by the minute, but with the need for urgency riding on his mind, he submitted to the waiting gaze of Mr. Price.

“It is quite the unusual craft for the voyage we are going to undertake, but I think your service will be appreciated for our mission. We are preparing to attack in two days' time, and this vessel shall be required. The colonies are in your debt.”

“That's great Mr. President, you wont regret it. She’ll get you to those British before you can say ‘King George is a fat w-”

George hurriedly interrupted Mr. Price before he could finish, and produced a large bag of coins from his coat pocket and pushed it into the hands of the ship builder.

“Uh… as I stated, Mr. Price, the colonies are um… in your debt…”

Mr. Price watched as George walked quickly away, looking over his shoulder. Mr. Price turned once The President was out of sight, and muttered to himself softly.

“Strange man. Very strange…”

Historical notes:

Because he felt there was not quite the right amount of personal drama in the actual event, the artist Emanuel Leutze would later decide not to include the craft sold to President Washington by Mr. Price in his piece, “Washington Crossing the Delaware.” He would later touch on this inaccuracy, by stating: “Nobody would believe Washington, why would they believe me?”

Henry Redfield