My grandfather went to Parker for 14 years. My mother went to Parker for 14 years. My uncle went to Parker for 14 years, my other uncle for 14 years and I’ve got two brothers both on track for 14 years. As you can probably guess, in two years I’ll graduate high school having attended Parker for 14 years.

The point is that my connection to Parker runs incredibly deep, absurdly so. Parker is in many ways all I’ve ever known.

It’s a bit weird to be reflecting on my time at Parker as a sophomore in high school, but the view I have now is, I’m guessing, far more realistic and honest than will be the rose-tinted glasses of senior year.

Regardless of my qualification, I’ve recently become intrigued by the unacknowledged consequences of growing up in a small, interconnected community. The benefits of going to Parker is a topic of frequent discussion (as it should be), but it’s always good to understand both sides of any story.

I’d like to make myself abundantly clear: I love Parker. I’m a Parker person if ever there was one, and I can’t imagine life outside of these walls, but it’s fascinating to consider what I might have missed along the way. I, like many others, have become so accustomed to this school that I hadn’t even considered the prospect of life without and after Parker until sign-ups for practice college entrance exams came along. I’ve just reached the early stages of planning my life beyond the Parker bubble, and it’s time for some deep thought.

Consider reputation. The idea that your reputation precedes you is hardly novel, but for many at Parker, reputations are carved in stone. While I have changed and matured, as have my interests, my reputation as a sophomore in high school is more or less the same as it was in 5th grade.  

There are benefits to retaining a reputation over time, especially if it’s mostly positive, but benefit does not exist independently of detriment. I’m not struck by any glaring “what-ifs” or paths I chose not to travel as a result of my image, but take a second to imagine the breadth of possibilities. Opportunities for reinvention and maturity should be afforded to young adults. Unfortunately the Parker experience can fail to provide such chances.

Think of friendship. I love my friends and enjoy the people I spend time with, but it’s hard not to wonder what life would be like if I had attended a larger school or even just changed small schools, exposing myself to a far greater number of people my age. The closeness of Parker’s classes often prevents individuals from branching out and forming new friendships past the first few years of time at the school.

Looking from a different perspective, there’s a case to be made that those bonds which are developed and formed can be impossibly strong. I live down the block from one of my mother’s closest Parker friends, and there are countless others who wouldn’t abandon those they met here for the world, myself included. Staying obscenely close for 4 or 7 or 14 years at a time will create a closeness that cannot be replicated in the outside world.  It creates true trust and compassion.

Finally, consider the concept of acclimation. There is no question that members of the “14 Year Gang” are required to acclimate minimally, and adjusting as a 4 year old to the stresses of Junior Kindergarten is nothing compared to the challenges of coming in as a new upper school student. But beyond initial growing pains as a freshman and the adjustments as a new student, 14 year Parker students can choose the extent of their social interactions.

By and large any group, extracurricular, or situation into which a student might stumble at Parker will have some degree of familiarity. Whether it be a recognizable face or a comfortable room, true alienation and discomfort are mostly foreign for those who have been attending school at 330 W. Webster for years.

Feeling relaxed in your environment enables you to feel at peace with being yourself and breeds a culture of support–but never allows for experience with adversity. While students who came to Parker later in their academic careers have had to endure the transition to a new school, “lifers” are able to navigate their experience without ever being stuck in difficult situations for extended periods of time.

Transitions exist far beyond academic careers. Being able to transition into a new work environment or a different living situation is an important and necessary life skill. This isn’t to imply that members of the 14-year-gang necessarily lack such an ability, but rather that not transferring schools until college likely predisposes lifers to greater difficulty transitioning than those with more experience.

Through nearly twelve years as a Parker student I have been thrilled with my classmates, teachers, coaches, and everyone who works to make the community so fantastic. Despite satisfaction with my experiences in the building, it’s always healthy to take a step back and acquire perspective that is often lost for lifers and well-established “Parker people.” With just a little more than two years left, I’m interested to see how life will change when the Parker Bubble pops.