Reflections on Wellness Week’s Hollow Promise

Mira Ponnambalam '26 Features Associate:
Despite its merits, Lawrenceville’s Wellness Week failed to cement long-term improvements for the student body because of its commitment to an over-generalized idea of “wellness.”

Consider the Wellness Wheel, which mashes the School’s seal and new motto together into a visual description of wellness. Its buzzwords remain mysterious: What does “coping effectively” even mean? How exactly do you “expand a sense of purpose?” An entire advisory was dedicated to the wheel, but the programming did not attempt to answer these questions. Instead, Harkness discussions focused on parts of the vaguely-worded wheel which “spoke” to individuals—in other words, our favorite parts of the graphic. During Wellness Week itself, the components of the Wheel were not given equal priority—in fact, for many of the sections, the only recognition was in the daily emails. Notably, the quick tips from said emails were genuinely actionable and specific; they provided concrete grounding techniques, such as taking note of “the sounds, sights, and sensations around you” in moments of panic. If Lawrenceville were to lean into fitting these structured, thoughtful actions into our daily schedules, just as the Wellness Wheel seems to reflect in its neatly formatted design, we might benefit in the long run. 

One reason Wellness Week fell short of its good intentions was how it deviated from and even contradicted Lawrenceville’s numerous effective health initiatives, like Art for the Heart, posting reminders about resources in the bathroom, the sanctuary policy, and the new academic schedule. Wellness Week stands out in contrast to these initiatives because it focused more on the short term. Besides, even though community time remained in place for most of the week, Wellness Week actually detracted from a lot of the free time the new schedule was supposed to provide Lawrentians. 

On a positive note, Chris Herren’s speech successfully engaged the Lawrenceville community. By focusing on a specific problem that plagues Lawrenceville, Herren evoked a more serious response from students. Unfortunately, the following House Meetings failed to strike the same poignant chord. By asserting that the majority of Lawrentians are “100 percent substance free, 100 percent of the time” and that the Wellness Day programming was designed around “remaining” substance-free, the House Meetings disregarded students who already struggle with substance abuse—the very people who need the most support. After lunch, the novel co-ed advisory meetings entailed awkward group conversation with strangers from a different House, with only a brief mention of the resources available through the School. No further education. No mention of outside resources.  

The ephemeral nature of Wellness Week turns it into a short-term display of effort rather than a long-term commitment toward improvement. Even the workshops were focused on the short term. While it’s absolutely great for students to do things like draw or play with slime, one hour of that has minimal long-term effect. More concerningly, the School responded to students who felt stressed and over-scheduled by, ironically, creating more required events. 

Unfortunately, the most visible aspects of Wellness Week seemed to be reflections of the School’s excessive wealth, connecting privilege to wellness in the minds of Lawrentians. The petting-zoo horses, acai yogurt bowls, expensive workshops, and even the $20,000-$30,000 guest speaker all signal that a healthy life is a luxurious, wealthy one. Meanwhile, the more concealed (often optional) activities—the religious services and email tips — display a much less luxurious, expensive view of wellness. Privilege and prestige are, after all, the Lawrenceville brand. So what better way is there to advertise Lawrenceville’s commitment to health than by making wellness dependent on wealth?

Let us make the vague spirit of “wellness” into specific actionable—even cost-free— habits that help us show care for both ourselves and those around us in the long run. After all, true wellness embeds itself in everyday life.

Shreshta Agrawal '28:
A week ago, I decided to try the flavored water with the special "Wellness Week” label nestled amongst the usual drink selection. The more of the minty water I gulped, the less I tasted it. As a whole, Wellness Week didn’t seem to affect me beyond its vivid branding. Only days ago, applause erupted under my feet during Wellness Week’s Smeeting kickoff, which promised to recenter wellness in the fabric of everyday life at Lawrenceville. I held high hopes for the week ahead. As a student pulled under the turbulent waves of Lawrenceville’s schedule, I expected Wellness Week to be an oar—a way to steer myself through school life and realize a balance between my personal and academic life. Instead of the formative experience I had hoped for, Wellness Week was a short-lived pause, washed out by the usual chaos of school life. 

Paradoxically, Wellness Week made no space to step away from Lawrenceville life. If anything,  I felt the pressure of being squeezed between academics and leisure. As was the case for months, attending the special surplus of evening explorations came at a cost, as my regular schedule continued without interruption. Even when I managed to squeeze in a cookie-decorating event with a friend, I spent every moment asking “Could I be doing something more productive?” While promising a fleeting escape from the overwhelming workload, Wellness Week only added to our schedules instead of taking away from them. As with any other school week, prioritizing my wellbeing never felt as fulfilling as preparing for class. How could I invest in my wellbeing while doubting every moment of downtime as a cost to my grades?

Furthermore, Wellness Week failed as a long-term tool for mental health. Throughout the week students discussed—ad nauseum—their go-to methods to destress, such as practicing a sport, or watching TV. By contrast, Wellness Week focused mainly on elaborate exploration events and up-scaled dining hall selections. Continuing to set up these events for the rest of the year is impractical, so why did Wellness Week suggest we look to these unrealistic examples for healthy practices? The School’s rendition of wellness, with the flashy, one-time amenities, left students without methods to incorporate wellness in everyday life, beyond impractical, extravagant school events.  The School’s rendition of wellness felt just as fleeting as the new amenities meant to perform said “wellness.” 

While noble, the School’s first attempt at Wellness programming misguided students to seek new and exciting experiences in search of wellness. A more sustainable maintenance of wellbeing needs to come from within  us. For me, wellness is quality time. Most often, I feel “well” when sharing a story with a friend, going to Main Street, or checking a book out from the library. Wellness Week’s in-class “wellness windows” were a perfect reflection of what I love about my personal wellness activities. They motivated me to immerse myself in campus life instead of becoming tired of it. The week would have served me better had it stepped away from scheduling and requirements, not leaned further into them. Indeed, Wellness Week seemed more like a pause in Lawrenceville’s storm than an oar in my hand.