Dear Parker,
Oh how to start this letter. I am sitting in my room, stressed about finishing the newspaper, and relatively unaware that after this upcoming Saturday I will no longer be a Parker student.
I haven’t written many opinion pieces in “The Weekly,” and even when I’ve set out to write them I usually get scared to address you all, to speak freely to the masses that are Parker. But I didn’t want to miss this last chance to speak from my heart in “the Weekly.”
This is really scary to be writing. Fourteen years in one place does not give someone a great sense of autonomy and grit. Unfortunately, 14 years in one place gives you a wonderful sense of home, family, friendship, and comfort, so it’s still worthwhile. Alslo, maybe in another sense this 14 year journey does inspire grit, with the annual–or maybe daily–decision to show up to Parker and let this community happen to you again, differently and the same.
I feel lucky to have been at Parker. I feel a little cursed and mostly lucky. I think I could write a thousand more paragraphs like the one above, explaining some drawback of going to Parker, and why I eventually still think it’s pretty great.
I want younger Parker students to stop searching for trends and generalizations for their Parker experiences. “All the teachers are against me” or “I love all of my friends” or “everything is going wrong this week” or “this place doesn’t know me” are not fair or true statements. We are always trying to characterize Parker simply, but it’s an entire community, with a million indistinguishable unique moments of interaction each day. So, literally speaking, each moment must be entirely different from the last. I’m getting too philosophical right now, and I fear I’m losing the readers, so I’ll just say, don’t pretend to understand Parker. Don’t make up your mind about Parker.
Also, let people be different over time. Give them second and third and fourth and fifth chances.
Let time pass at Parker. You may not be leaving the same group of people, but each of you are constantly re-entering it. Let good classes end and worse ones begin because better ones will start soon. Look around when you are in a desk clump where the vibes are bad and you’re the only one talking, and also look around where the desk clump is excellent, and the teacher is eyeing you from the side.
This year, in Advanced Calculus, I sat at a desk clump with Thewfic, Deven, and Noah for most of the second semester. I think every day at that desk clump was different. We were all having complicated semesters, with college and emotions, but it was constant, and it was special. For a few days, over the course of about a month, we kept doing these silent contests. We were well matched for each other, that is until the three of them started getting worried about the AP test, and I decided not to take it, and I became much better at the silent contests. But it was really a lovely time to be with them, showing up differently each day, being playful, empathetic, annoyed, and eventually saying goodbye. Parker has just been a series of these things. Enjoy your series.
Maybe you can see now why I don’t usually write opinions. I overthink a bit. But I will let this piece be with all of its disorganization. What I mean to say is that this is all really difficult.
Give grace, be well, stay groovy,
Harry
