It's been nearly a year since we all left each other. I imagine who I was a year ago and sometimes I find it difficult to believe that I am really the same person. Other times, I think that I haven't changed too much at my core and this brings a slew of mixed emotions to mind. College was supposed to be the place where we all "grew up" and "found ourselves". Every good Groton girl knew that once they were done with Groton everything would fall into place, and simply as a result of a change in scenery, every problem we had would be fixed. Was this idealistic and naive? Yes. Most certainly. In fact, I have never been more certain that this idea that college is a fantasy land of freedom is completely false. However, I think I would not be giving myself enough credit if I claimed to be the exact person I was when I left Groton. I care about different people now, and the people who I cared about all along, I care about in different ways. To say I have really changed seems to be an exaggeration however, and I prefer to view my past year as a sort of "evolution".
My relationships with the people in my form (or grade, whatever you want to call it) at Groton have changed since we left. Despite not seeing each other every day, I like to think that we all maintain some sort of loose connection with each other through social networking and the ever active grape vine. With the people I was closest to, our relationship has taken the form of occasional Skype calls, Facebook messages or text messages but things don't feel terribly different. It's as if the rest of our lives were just a regular summer vacation that will happen to go on for years at a time. Our brief reunions will be scattered every five years, small moments that will resuscitate the distance that now marks our friendship. Maintaining a relationship with my friends who are also in college has been far easier than having a relationship with the people who I've left behind at Groton.
Those who remain at Groton still have the protection of the bubble to fall back on when they feel sad and alone. They cannot understand the pseudo-realistic world of college and they cling to each other and their Groton-lives instead of focusing on their connections to the people who have left. After all, we are the ones who have graduated and moved on and they are the ones who have to stay behind with desperate attempts to preserve their vision of Grotonian culture. The people at Groton have the entire school to fall back on during their times of distress. They can still pop into Ms. Hughes classroom or escape to Dr. Reyes house for tea. They do not need us recent graduates as a safety net as much as we need them. This has a certain degree of irony since we are the older ones who have technically moved on, but despite the irony, this observation is entirely true.
Last year, I believed that college would provide an excess of freedom which hasn't entirely been true, mostly due to the fact that I chose to go to college in the boonies of Vermont. However, I doubt that anyone else feels too much differently than I do. Even if we are free from 8 am chapel and afternoon activity obligations, we all face so much more in terms of what we feel obligated to accomplish. The need to make college the "greatest experience ever" or perhaps the need to arrive at a particular career or academic destination upon graduation fuels us to do more than we ever could have accomplished at Groton.
We seek to have what we couldn't have at high school: a perfect social life, good grades and eight hours of sleep every night (perhaps completed with a number of naps during the day). I should also take into account the additional goal that most Grotonians have of doing all of this while being in mint physical condition. It's a lot to deal with. And even if we aren't forced to go to church anymore, we face a persistent internal pressure that's been conditioned in us from our youth.
Another slightly more depressing change from my "Groton-self" is the way I don't expect anything from anyone any more. I have learned not to expect people to care about me. I have learned not to expect them to understand me or make an effort to. I have learned the art of detachment in a way I never really mastered while I was at Groton, and admittedly, very prone to being hurt by other people. At Groton I was in a place where I was truly bothered by what other people thought of me. If someone didn't want to hang out with me or become annoyed by me, I wanted to fix it. I wanted to become someone who wasn't annoying, and who people wanted to hang out with. I have never really cared for having a large quantity of friends, but now, I don't expect to have a large quantity of friends and I don't expect them to ever care about me the same way my Groton friends did. At least for now, the people who I go to school with don't really know who I am. They may know tidbits about my life that I choose to reveal to them and they may be able to predict my actions to a certain degree, but I consider these things insignificant.
No one here has watched me grow in the same way. No one here has observed me beat myself up over my mistakes or watched the way I changed over the course of my five years at Groton. They have not seen my loss of innocence, the way I lost trust in the goodness of the world or my descent into my psychological torment that I am only beginning to pay attention to or amend now. They will never know what horrible things I am capable of doing to the people I dislike or fully comprehend how much I invest into the people that I do like.
Of course, this is not their fault. I can't expect every person who I interact with to (a) instantly care about the intricacies of my simple life (b) instantly know and understand the nuances of my character. I am just pointing out the adjustment of going from a place where everyone knows and understands everything about you yet chooses to care about you, to college where you are just another student and exponentially more insignificant.
The transition has been far more difficult than I anticipated. I wish that my Groton grad predecessors had warned me about the realities of college life rather than filling my head with promises of instant perfection. I wish that someone had warned me that all my problems wouldn't just go away and that being successful outside of the bubble required standing on my own two feet. How was I supposed to know that my favorite red-head no longer being across the hall from me could send me into despair? How was I supposed to know that my wisest friend from Korea being hundreds of miles away would be too difficult for me to deal with sometimes?
Everyone spoke to us about what was out in the real world but no one told us about what we would miss. No one told us about the crippling regret of things undone or unspoken sentiments. I never found the shoe room at Groton, a secret room in the ceiling of the school house that could be found by climbing through a vent on one of the roofs. I never confessed my love to anyone that I should have. I never took a class with Mr. Sackett or Mr. Goodrich (well known in the Groton bubble, but of little import to the random reader).
At this point, I am slowly learning that despite my regrets about the past and my hesitations about the future, the best thing that I can do is appreciate what I did accomplish while at Groton. I must cling to the memories of the amazing things that happened rather than clouding my mind with negativity that tends to plague my thoughts.
I cling to the memories of junior year, sitting out behind Sheppe's dorm with my best friends, spraying excess mosquito repellent on our legs, talking about our difficulties with the administration and planning our future as seniors. I remember my trip to New York City with a couple of my fellow prefects, wandering the streets of New York visiting hairdressers and delicious Italian restaurants. I remember the Surprise Holiday where another friend and I went to the aquarium together instead of shopping in Boston like everyone else. I remember crying over minor Biology failures and finding comfort in the spicy Asian ramen my best friend would cook for me in her room.
I remember wandering the path to the boathouse in the middle of the night or skipping Spring Formal to go running through mud puddles in the rain wearing my formal dress. I remember how I felt during my last Lessons and Carols or during my last Festival of Lights. I remember as the 'lasts" began to pile up, realizing how much my school meant to me, and how it would be with me for the rest of my life. And now, I'm realizing that moving on and embracing college doesn't mean I have to leave my Groton world behind completely. I merely have to interact with it a different way. I can cling to nostalgia as long as it doesn't impair me.
Since I've left, I think I've grown to love Groton and myself a little bit more. I appreciate the girls I lived with more than I ever could have imagined a year ago. I am filled with pride at the fact that I was able to attend Groton, but I've also gained some humility about that fact. Groton raised me, and now I'm going off into the world with a base of values that I learned over my five years there and building on the person who I left as. Groton doesn't necessarily force us to grow up and become mature individuals but it facilitates our transition into society. Over this year, more than anything, I think I've become extraordinarily grateful for what I had at Groton and I hope these feelings of gratitude stay with me for a very long time.
My relationships with the people in my form (or grade, whatever you want to call it) at Groton have changed since we left. Despite not seeing each other every day, I like to think that we all maintain some sort of loose connection with each other through social networking and the ever active grape vine. With the people I was closest to, our relationship has taken the form of occasional Skype calls, Facebook messages or text messages but things don't feel terribly different. It's as if the rest of our lives were just a regular summer vacation that will happen to go on for years at a time. Our brief reunions will be scattered every five years, small moments that will resuscitate the distance that now marks our friendship. Maintaining a relationship with my friends who are also in college has been far easier than having a relationship with the people who I've left behind at Groton.
Those who remain at Groton still have the protection of the bubble to fall back on when they feel sad and alone. They cannot understand the pseudo-realistic world of college and they cling to each other and their Groton-lives instead of focusing on their connections to the people who have left. After all, we are the ones who have graduated and moved on and they are the ones who have to stay behind with desperate attempts to preserve their vision of Grotonian culture. The people at Groton have the entire school to fall back on during their times of distress. They can still pop into Ms. Hughes classroom or escape to Dr. Reyes house for tea. They do not need us recent graduates as a safety net as much as we need them. This has a certain degree of irony since we are the older ones who have technically moved on, but despite the irony, this observation is entirely true.
Last year, I believed that college would provide an excess of freedom which hasn't entirely been true, mostly due to the fact that I chose to go to college in the boonies of Vermont. However, I doubt that anyone else feels too much differently than I do. Even if we are free from 8 am chapel and afternoon activity obligations, we all face so much more in terms of what we feel obligated to accomplish. The need to make college the "greatest experience ever" or perhaps the need to arrive at a particular career or academic destination upon graduation fuels us to do more than we ever could have accomplished at Groton.
We seek to have what we couldn't have at high school: a perfect social life, good grades and eight hours of sleep every night (perhaps completed with a number of naps during the day). I should also take into account the additional goal that most Grotonians have of doing all of this while being in mint physical condition. It's a lot to deal with. And even if we aren't forced to go to church anymore, we face a persistent internal pressure that's been conditioned in us from our youth.
Another slightly more depressing change from my "Groton-self" is the way I don't expect anything from anyone any more. I have learned not to expect people to care about me. I have learned not to expect them to understand me or make an effort to. I have learned the art of detachment in a way I never really mastered while I was at Groton, and admittedly, very prone to being hurt by other people. At Groton I was in a place where I was truly bothered by what other people thought of me. If someone didn't want to hang out with me or become annoyed by me, I wanted to fix it. I wanted to become someone who wasn't annoying, and who people wanted to hang out with. I have never really cared for having a large quantity of friends, but now, I don't expect to have a large quantity of friends and I don't expect them to ever care about me the same way my Groton friends did. At least for now, the people who I go to school with don't really know who I am. They may know tidbits about my life that I choose to reveal to them and they may be able to predict my actions to a certain degree, but I consider these things insignificant.
No one here has watched me grow in the same way. No one here has observed me beat myself up over my mistakes or watched the way I changed over the course of my five years at Groton. They have not seen my loss of innocence, the way I lost trust in the goodness of the world or my descent into my psychological torment that I am only beginning to pay attention to or amend now. They will never know what horrible things I am capable of doing to the people I dislike or fully comprehend how much I invest into the people that I do like.
Of course, this is not their fault. I can't expect every person who I interact with to (a) instantly care about the intricacies of my simple life (b) instantly know and understand the nuances of my character. I am just pointing out the adjustment of going from a place where everyone knows and understands everything about you yet chooses to care about you, to college where you are just another student and exponentially more insignificant.
The transition has been far more difficult than I anticipated. I wish that my Groton grad predecessors had warned me about the realities of college life rather than filling my head with promises of instant perfection. I wish that someone had warned me that all my problems wouldn't just go away and that being successful outside of the bubble required standing on my own two feet. How was I supposed to know that my favorite red-head no longer being across the hall from me could send me into despair? How was I supposed to know that my wisest friend from Korea being hundreds of miles away would be too difficult for me to deal with sometimes?
Everyone spoke to us about what was out in the real world but no one told us about what we would miss. No one told us about the crippling regret of things undone or unspoken sentiments. I never found the shoe room at Groton, a secret room in the ceiling of the school house that could be found by climbing through a vent on one of the roofs. I never confessed my love to anyone that I should have. I never took a class with Mr. Sackett or Mr. Goodrich (well known in the Groton bubble, but of little import to the random reader).
At this point, I am slowly learning that despite my regrets about the past and my hesitations about the future, the best thing that I can do is appreciate what I did accomplish while at Groton. I must cling to the memories of the amazing things that happened rather than clouding my mind with negativity that tends to plague my thoughts.
I cling to the memories of junior year, sitting out behind Sheppe's dorm with my best friends, spraying excess mosquito repellent on our legs, talking about our difficulties with the administration and planning our future as seniors. I remember my trip to New York City with a couple of my fellow prefects, wandering the streets of New York visiting hairdressers and delicious Italian restaurants. I remember the Surprise Holiday where another friend and I went to the aquarium together instead of shopping in Boston like everyone else. I remember crying over minor Biology failures and finding comfort in the spicy Asian ramen my best friend would cook for me in her room.
I remember wandering the path to the boathouse in the middle of the night or skipping Spring Formal to go running through mud puddles in the rain wearing my formal dress. I remember how I felt during my last Lessons and Carols or during my last Festival of Lights. I remember as the 'lasts" began to pile up, realizing how much my school meant to me, and how it would be with me for the rest of my life. And now, I'm realizing that moving on and embracing college doesn't mean I have to leave my Groton world behind completely. I merely have to interact with it a different way. I can cling to nostalgia as long as it doesn't impair me.
Since I've left, I think I've grown to love Groton and myself a little bit more. I appreciate the girls I lived with more than I ever could have imagined a year ago. I am filled with pride at the fact that I was able to attend Groton, but I've also gained some humility about that fact. Groton raised me, and now I'm going off into the world with a base of values that I learned over my five years there and building on the person who I left as. Groton doesn't necessarily force us to grow up and become mature individuals but it facilitates our transition into society. Over this year, more than anything, I think I've become extraordinarily grateful for what I had at Groton and I hope these feelings of gratitude stay with me for a very long time.