The Big Red Reality: Lawrenceville in the Eyes of a New III Former

          Lawrenceville was Barbieland. There were ponies jumping over rainbows and there were green rolling hills and the blue of the sky was a bit too artificial and everyone was so, so happy. Every person had their own purpose and every purpose worked alongside everything else. I could almost hear Barbie speak through a strained smile, “It is the best day ever. So was yesterday, and so is tomorrow, and every day from now until forever.” From the moment I was accepted, Lawrenceville was my Barbieland, and not only did I feel a need to make all the money, time, and lifestyle changes this fairytale had cost be worth it, but I also hoped that someday, what I saw could really be my life.

          Upon arriving on campus, I realized Lawrenceville was not Barbieland. I spent the days of orientation in disarray. There were school meetings, orientation classes, House meetings, and athletic practices. Later, there were specific dinners to attend and awkward social gatherings that included a progressively greater number of people. I felt ever smaller as the number of people around me grew ever larger. Then, after each long day of activities had sapped the best of my energy and attention, I would fall onto a couch back at the House and try my best to internalize the long list of House and School rules that put everything at stake. There were so many things to do, so many people to meet, and so much to know. I was on an adrenaline high sprinting a 100-meter race when I knew I’d still have a marathon to run. Day after day, I felt exhausted, drained, and increasingly terrified. How would I ever catch up to everyone else? How would I ever match their speed? How would I ever be part of this group?

          “How were classes today?” 

          “Well, I had a good day! It was great! Tiring—but super exciting!” 

          The smile plastered across my face barely held as I stumbled into check-in. I felt my responses becoming curt. Everyone else’s smiles were still wide as if drawn on with a permanent marker. I didn’t want to stay in the room a minute longer than I had to. 

          “How about you sit with us for a little while?” 

          No. “Sure.” 

          Despite my initial uneasiness, I gradually spent more time downstairs in the common room than up two floors with my door closed in my own room. At first, I forced myself to be social, to face this group of strangers who all stared at me so intently. Yet, as the days wore on, I found myself wanting to spend time with others. Even if I didn’t know what to say,  conversations always included me and helped me gradually relax and have fun. During the first few days of classes around the Harkness table, people wanted to contribute, ask questions, and were even willing to make mistakes. Surprisingly, I found myself contributing to the conversation, not for a grade, but because I wanted to build off other’s ideas and learn from them. People seemed to genuinely care about the community. If there was one thing that struck me about Lawrenceville in these past four weeks, it was how their goal of a strong community actually seemed to be a reality.

          Long before my move-in day, I felt the pressure to be the amazing, brave, previously-flawed-but-now-flawless warrior I illustrated in my application essays; Lawrenceville was the ideal, and I always felt I had to blend into this ideal so as not to blemish it. However, after moving in, I began to see the people of Lawrenceville, and not just the pretty picture on the postcard. The people were clever, caring, determined, and fun, and I would come to learn how accomplished they were. Yet, the people were also messy and rash and, at times, flippant and crass, and a surprising number of unacceptable incidents occurred in a short time. And so, I realized that Lawrenceville was a high school, just like the high school I attended my freshman year. Hundreds of miles and thousands of dollars later, I was still receiving emails about reckless behavior and conversations with the police. I still saw teachers at a loss over students’ behavior. I still heard complaints about the teachers and the school. Not everyone knew what they were doing, and the energy and eagerness I had seen during the first few days did not always make it into the classroom or just into daily life at all. This imperfection had not been advertised to me. Attending an elite private boarding school far away from home, I just attached perfection to Lawrenceville’s name and expected an ideal from it. My first few days shattered that ideal.

          There were many things that I expected coming in. I knew I would have a rigorous workload that I would struggle to manage. Four weeks in, I’m studying for almost the same amount of time outside of study hall as I do during the two hours each night. Among my classmates, I’ve heard many voice their wish to drop classes, and I can completely empathize with their sentiment. Adjusting to this environment has been draining mentally, physically, and emotionally. It's hard to imagine how I will feel after many months, weeks, and years at this place. However, I can see how people can survive and thrive here. The norms at Lawrenceville are different from any other place I’ve been. The norm is to say “hi” to someone you’ve barely met and introduce yourselves. The norm is to bring loud and proud House spirit and hype up even the new kids who have no clue what everyone is shouting for. The norm is to go to consultation and connect with teachers even if there are no apparent questions on the material. The norm is to try something new, put yourself out there, and strive to become your best self. The norm is to make mistakes. It’s crazy to me how hard these first few weeks have been, but it is also crazy how fun this all is. The community and environment at Lawrenceville seem designed to push people to their limits so that, in the end, they are left completely exhausted but also incredibly fulfilled.

          At the time of this article’s publication, it will have been four weeks since my move-in day. I know the rules, the names of buildings, and the general routine of life here. It feels like months have passed, but I also feel like I’m only just getting started. Lawrenceville still leaves me with some uncertainties and unknowns. However, I have realized that this is a real place with unique highs and lows. And with that, I think I’m beginning to see Lawrenceville for what it truly is.