Senior Reflection: Ellie Turchetta

While the happiest day for many on campus was March 10, mine was April 7. My acceptance did not appear in a portal but rather in an email. As I sat in the backseat, my mom raised her chin at the rearview mirror and asked me if I still wanted to go to Lawrenceville. An email from Dean of Enrollment Management Mr. Buckles had just arrived, letting us know there was an extra spot. When I arrived home, already excited, I entered my room to see that my mom had bought red and black balloons, a Lawrenceville blanket, and a stuffed bear, which sat on the corner of my bed, smiling at my success with its arms open wide. To say my excitement was tangible would be a gross understatement. 

 On September 1st, 2021, as we lined up on the Bowl steps for a freshman-class photo, I couldn’t help but remember that I didn’t share the joy of March 10 with everyone in my class. Looking around at strange faces that would soon be familiar, I kept reminding myself that they got in first. Thus, the natural born over-achiever in me thought what any over-achiever would: I had to show them exactly what they almost missed. 

 For this reason, I drove myself into succeeding in every aspect of Lawrenceville life. My freshman fall, I weighed grades with an unhealthy emotional consequence. I joined club after club, without truly knowing why. As a freshman on the Girls’ Varsity Soccer team, I had the unyielding expectation for myself to perform at a high level at every moment. Soon, I became addicted to constant busyness, fueled by the urge to experience every corner of opportunity Lawrenceville had to offer. I came out of my freshman year proud of the letters on my transcript but mysteriously unfulfilled by my experience. At the time, I couldn’t figure out why. 

 On August 18, 2022, I was placed in the Stanley House, and I couldn’t have been more excited. Clementine and I sat in the backseat of my dad’s Jeep coming back from a sleepover when we got the Veracross notification. We screamed so loudly that my dad rammed the brakes, throwing our chests into the black nylon seat belts. As my dad scolded us for scaring him so badly, our excited giggles filled the soft-top Jeep. Underneath the excitement and the nerves, I still struggled to define the impression I wanted to leave on Lawrenceville and the community I felt I had to prove myself worthy of. 

 However, my worries faded away as I spent more and more time in the House and built connections with the girls. Over the course of two years, my favorite nights were spent sitting outside of Stock’s apartment, playing Codenames and eating chips with my prefects in the tea room, or talking through the night on the floor of someone’s room. These moments showed me the sheer power of raw, meaningful connections. The tight-knit community that Stanley had given me was a part of the gap in my Lawrenceville experience I felt had gone missing when my mindset was purely focused on quantifying my time at Lawrenceville through accomplishments. 

Taking full advantage of what Lawrenceville has to offer doesn’t end in the classroom. At the end of the day, the Lawrenceville community is made up of people, and to fully immerse yourself within that community, it is imperative to focus on meaningful connections. Going into senior year, my goal was to create memories with the people in my class I had less than a year left with. As I look back at senior fall, I don’t remember the grades I got on tests or the late nights I spent preparing for brutal in-class essays. I think of spending time with fellow senior RCIs on the turf fields, decorating the Stanley common room before preseason, placing 2nd for my last House Olympics, winning the Hill Girls’ Soccer game after a rough season, laughing in the front seat of cars, taking small trips to Target and Princeton, ordering El Guajillo 33 Mexican Food, and enjoying the little moments of support and friendship throughout it all. Freshman me would have thought these moments were insignificant because they would never appear on any written record. Senior me knows better. 

 Two months ago, I spoke to a family friend, who nearly laughed with confusion when I told her my favorite part of Lawrenceville was the people and the community. While four years ago, I would have thought the judgment to be proof I wasn’t worthy of a place here, I now know that her judgement is proof that I do belong at Lawrenceville. As I become ready to leave some of the best four years of my life behind at Lawrenceville, I leave knowing that I’ve spent my time exactly how I should spend it: with the people that make it the most special.