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My phone rang about an hour ago and I eyed it somewhat warily because I didn't feel like having a conversation, but me being me I still picked up. THANK. GOD.
It was Aline, a girl who I motivated to apply to Andover and who got in, and my face HURTS from grinning like an idiot for an hour on the phone. Hearing everything about what she's been doing at PA - her classes, her life, the dorms, the All School Meetings, the PA way of life, it brought back so many happy memories, I could see and hear myself in her so much, and it was just amazing. Remembering and sharing what I had there, listening to how happy she's been, what a great time she's having. I'm so so happy she's there and enjoying it so much, and getting it. It's like sharing something that's not unsharable unless you've been there, lived through it, been that foreign student.
I'm so fucking ecstatic right now. Both from talking about Andover and knowing Aline is liking it so much.
I was telling her on the phone - I will forever regret not having kept a journal, a blog, of my whole year at PA. I discovered LJ late April of the year I was there, and I wish I could have kept better traces of everything else, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. What's amazing about my experience there is that I got so miserable sometimes, so annoyed at some things, but all that remains is how much I loved it, how much I enjoyed the classes and admired the teachers, how this school is forever linked to personal growth, to fighting for same-sex marriage and being able to say, yeah, I'm gay.
There's this one moment... I remember so perfectly. Must have been late fall, it was cold but not snowing yet. The whole shit around Fan''s visit had started and I was crying on my way to my philosophy class that morning. I met my teacher on the way to the Chapel and he asked if I was okay, I said I'd be okay, didn't want to bother him with it all, but I knew he genuinely cared. Then I got to class and class started, and suddenly everything was okay. I had a blast that morning in class - talked, laughted, discussed, debated, everything I loved about philosophy teaching over there.
Andover hurt and healed all at once. But ultimately, I'm forever grateful for the opportunities it offered me, and everything I lived there. I was working for my class about Hispanics in the US earlier, and I got so enthuastic about reading up on what it means, to be part of a minority, got so excited looking up definitions for "ethnic enclave" and "social network", and that's the best thing Phillips gave me, throughout my year there. A love and enthusiasm for academics I have trouble reaching for here. I miss it, and I know it's exactly why I want to go to UBC next year, it's a desperate attempt at recapturing what Phillips showed me, how amazingly challenging and interesting classes can be when they require that you put so much of yourself into the material.
It was Aline, a girl who I motivated to apply to Andover and who got in, and my face HURTS from grinning like an idiot for an hour on the phone. Hearing everything about what she's been doing at PA - her classes, her life, the dorms, the All School Meetings, the PA way of life, it brought back so many happy memories, I could see and hear myself in her so much, and it was just amazing. Remembering and sharing what I had there, listening to how happy she's been, what a great time she's having. I'm so so happy she's there and enjoying it so much, and getting it. It's like sharing something that's not unsharable unless you've been there, lived through it, been that foreign student.
I'm so fucking ecstatic right now. Both from talking about Andover and knowing Aline is liking it so much.
I was telling her on the phone - I will forever regret not having kept a journal, a blog, of my whole year at PA. I discovered LJ late April of the year I was there, and I wish I could have kept better traces of everything else, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. What's amazing about my experience there is that I got so miserable sometimes, so annoyed at some things, but all that remains is how much I loved it, how much I enjoyed the classes and admired the teachers, how this school is forever linked to personal growth, to fighting for same-sex marriage and being able to say, yeah, I'm gay.
There's this one moment... I remember so perfectly. Must have been late fall, it was cold but not snowing yet. The whole shit around Fan''s visit had started and I was crying on my way to my philosophy class that morning. I met my teacher on the way to the Chapel and he asked if I was okay, I said I'd be okay, didn't want to bother him with it all, but I knew he genuinely cared. Then I got to class and class started, and suddenly everything was okay. I had a blast that morning in class - talked, laughted, discussed, debated, everything I loved about philosophy teaching over there.
Andover hurt and healed all at once. But ultimately, I'm forever grateful for the opportunities it offered me, and everything I lived there. I was working for my class about Hispanics in the US earlier, and I got so enthuastic about reading up on what it means, to be part of a minority, got so excited looking up definitions for "ethnic enclave" and "social network", and that's the best thing Phillips gave me, throughout my year there. A love and enthusiasm for academics I have trouble reaching for here. I miss it, and I know it's exactly why I want to go to UBC next year, it's a desperate attempt at recapturing what Phillips showed me, how amazingly challenging and interesting classes can be when they require that you put so much of yourself into the material.
