Dear Pearl: The Reveal!

Pearl ... and Riley McKibben '25 in Features | February 21, 2025

1. I’ve failed the dreams I had as a child. My life is nothing like I imagined. I cannot reconcile my mind and reality. Advice?

Welcome to the club! From what I understand, adulthood is just continuous moments of realizing that your childhood visions didn’t account for taxes, climate change, or that being an astronaut actually requires a lot of math. But here’s the thing: failing your childhood dreams doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It just means you’ve evolved. Your five-year-old self thought you’d be a zookeeper, a pop star, or a mermaid by now, but how likely are you really to take career advice from someone who couldn’t tie their own shoes?

The truth is, dreams aren’t meant to be rigid. They’re supposed to grow with you. Maybe you didn’t become the exact person you once imagined—but maybe you’ve become someone even better, someone with layers and experiences your younger self couldn’t have fathomed. Instead of mourning the life you imagined, ask yourself: What excites me now? What do you stay up thinking about? What gives you that flicker of curiosity or makes your heart beat just a little bit faster? Pursue that.

Reality isn’t a fixed thing—it’s something you shape. If your current life doesn’t feel quite right, tweak it. You don’t have to have all the answers right now, and you’re not stuck. The best things in life are often the ones we never planned for.

You’re doing great,

Pearl

2. Do you think it’s moral to stalk people on Snapchat?

Morality is a strong word for an app designed to make people overshare. If you’re checking Snap Maps to make sure your friend got home safe, that’s one thing. If you’re analyzing someone’s Bitmoji location and trying to figure out who they’re spending consultation with at the Bath House, maybe take a step back. Digital lurking is a slippery slope—one minute, you’re casually checking locations, and the next, you’re trapped in a tornado of obsession. And let’s be real: if you wouldn’t want someone tracking your every move, you probably shouldn’t be doing it to someone else.

At its core, social media gives us the illusion of access—just because you can see where someone is doesn’t mean you should be monitoring them. If you catch yourself obsessing over someone’s movements, ask yourself: What am I hoping to find? Will this information actually help me, or will it just make me spiral? Nine times out of 10, the answer is that it’s not worth it.

People deserve the freedom to exist without feeling watched. And frankly, you deserve the freedom to stop caring so much about what other people are doing. Close the app. Touch some grass. Live your own life.

Be careful,

Pearl

3. With the impending wave of sentiment as we seniors embark on our “last 100 days” at Lawrenceville, I feel like I have no true friends to celebrate this achievement with. What can I do?

First, breathe. This feeling is more common than you think. Senior spring is full of forced nostalgia—people scrambling to turn acquaintances into core memories and throwing around “I’ll miss you” like confetti. If you don’t have a tight-knit group, that’s okay. Let’s be honest: Most people don’t. And those who do typically end up drifting or, even worse, going radio silent by July. Focus on making the most of your last 100 days. Say yes to plans, even if they’re not with your “best friends.” Be the person who invites people to the Big Red Park for pickleball or GCAD Open Hours rather than waiting for an invite.

If there’s someone you’ve always liked but never gotten close to, reach out. The weird thing about senior spring is that everyone suddenly becomes more open to new connections—people you barely spoke to in sophomore year might end up being your lunch buddies for the rest of the term.

Most importantly, remember this: High school friendships don’t define your life. If you haven’t found your people yet, you will. The world is so much bigger than Lawrenceville, and think about it this way: Some of your best friendships haven’t even started yet!

Trust me,

Pearl

4. What are some things seniors should do for their last term at Lville?

Ah, yes. The classic senior spring bucket list. This isn’t all-encompassing, but it’s a start. Feel free to add, adjust, or completely ignore as you see necessary.

Pull at least one slightly reckless but legal senior prank. Nothing that gets you expelled, just something that leaves a mark—metaphorically, not literally (unless it’s chalk on the road, in which case, go wild).
Actually spend time with people you like instead of worrying about everyone else. Senior spring can feel like a last-ditch effort to be included in everything, but forced sentimentality is exhausting. Focus on the people who make you laugh without trying.
Have a long, deeply unnecessary conversation with a teacher you admire. It doesn’t have to be about academics. Talk about life, books, and their actual opinions on the School—trust me, some of them are funnier than you’d expect.
Take a walk around campus at night blasting your favorite, most nostalgic songs. Bonus points if it’s raining and you make it ridiculously cinematic.
Stop pretending you’ll miss every aspect of this place—you won’t, and that’s okay. Nostalgia has a funny way of editing out the bad parts. Let yourself appreciate the good, but don’t feel guilty if you’re also counting down the days.
Romanticize your last everything, especially on Abbott Avocado days. Some things deserve to be treated like a sacred experience.
Make sure to step foot in every house—Lower included. You’ve been here for years. Might as well make sure you’ve actually seen all of it.
Write a letter to your future self (or your past self) with a friend. It sounds cheesy, but one day, you’ll want to remember what this version of you felt like.

And finally, let yourself feel everything. The excitement, the stress, and the weird limbo of wanting to leave but also wanting time to slow down. The next chapter is coming, whether you’re ready or not. But for now, soak it all in.

Be where your feet are,

Pearl

5. How to get a girlfriend as a girl (in time for prom)?

I apologize to those who have sought my advice in the past, but this is by far my favorite question. Sapphic love is the best kind, in my opinion. As difficult as it can sometimes be, especially at a smaller-scale school, this can be a challenge. But hey, you’re hot, so act like it.

First, focus on identifying potential candidates—girls who like girls. This is where things can get tricky because, apparently, carabiners and cuffed jeans are no longer simply for the gays. Keep your eyes peeled for Carhartt and stacked rings, but also make sure not to rely only on stereotypes. Simply ask her who her few celebrity crushes are. If she says anything along the lines of Billie Eilish or Zendaya, you’re in the clear. If not, move on!

Second, shoot your shot. Seriously. Queer prom culture can be painfully passive. If there’s someone you’ve been eyeing, ask them on a date to Bunn, a walk, or some other painfully gay first-date activity… Color Me Mine is always a win.

If that doesn’t work (which you’ll never know if you don’t try!), team up with another single queer and just go together. Prom isn’t a marriage proposal; it’s a fancy party with subpar music. However, if all else fails, roll up looking so good that people regret not asking you.

Go get ‘em,

Pearl

6. I feel like there is a lot of insincerity around me as everyone scrambles to find a prom date they “like.” How do I navigate this?

As I see it, prom is basically a high-stakes game of musical chairs— everyone’s just trying not to be left standing when the music stops. It’s a social spectacle where people suddenly become very interested in someone they’ve barely spoken to all year, all in the name of having a date for the photos. If it all feels a little performative to you, that’s because it is. And that’s okay.

The key is to not let the chaos dictate your experience. If people around you are being insincere, don’t participate in the charade. Go with someone who genuinely makes you laugh, someone you’d want to spend the night with— not just someone who fits the Instagram aesthetic. Or, if forced prom romance isn’t your thing, go with a group and skip the whole date pressure entirely. You won’t be the only one doing it, and I promise you, friend groups often end up having way more fun than the people trapped in awkward, last-minute date arrangements.

And if someone is “liking” you just for the sake of securing a date, remember: You are not obligated to accept the role. Politely decline the audition. You deserve better than being someone’s convenient plus-one. Also, keep in mind—juniors are always available.

At the end of the day, prom is one night, but your dignity lasts longer. Spend it with people who actually make you happy.

Happy prom-ing,

Pearl

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Dear Pearl: The Reveal!