It's Like Coming Home

It is always interesting to me to learn how and/or why people chose their particular professional fields. These past few weeks the frequent interviews with families that typify the days and weeks leading up to the application deadline have reminded me of my path to a career in independent schools and ultimately in admissions. My career choice, as well as the philosophy that guides my work, were guided by my own educational experience, specifically several school transitions during grades seven through nine. I will try to briefly share the story as I believe it sheds light on the approach I, and Wakefield, take in admitting students to Wakefield as well as benefits of the type of education an independent schools provides.


Two days before the Labor Day weekend that marked the transition, for me, from seventh to eighth grade my family moved from rural Vermont to Northern Virginia. That was not to be the only transition; I would also attend one of the mega-middle schools rather than a small independent school as I had in Vermont. The school I was to attend had more students in seventh and eighth grade than the entire population of the county from which I had moved. Needless to say culture shock was waiting for me at every turn. I recently told a colleague that that one year in the mega-middle school is by far the worst year of my life and that I would gladly relive any of traumas of my life again before I would go back to that year for one day. During the first days at the new school I rode the sea of students from class to class, each day arriving at lunch blessedly naïve, at first, of the politics that dictate who sits where, when, and for how long; life was much worse once I realized there was a pecking order and that I had no idea how to get into the order, if I wasn’t already in it, and what my position dictated I do to maintain my place, or move up. Being athletic I looked forward to the first PE class, but not for long. On the first day one of my female classmates banged her arm repeatedly in locker so that she could break her arm and not have to participate. I realized quickly that PE was not a time for carefree game playing, rather the game was to see how little one could do and for how long. That mentality of minimal effort and engagement characterized my classroom experience as well – no one answered teacher questions, in fact the teachers really didn’t ask any, maybe because they knew no one would answer, students were blatantly disrespectful to teachers and to each other. It did not take me long to realize that the best way to get through this year was to get on the bus, get off the bus, put my head down during the day in order to draw as little attention as possible (you would not want to be “too” anything for fear of offending someone and getting beat up (verbally or physically), get on the bus, get off the bus and just hope to survive the year with some semblance of self left in place while keeping my fingers crossed that high school would be better. Throughout the year I know my sadness, nervousness, and confusion were readily apparent yet a teacher never tried to engage with me, no one tried to learn my interests and introduce me to peers with similar interests, an administrator or counselor never asked if I was okay or wanted to talk about the transition. All the reports to my parents were that I was fine, I was getting straight As so what was there to worry about, right? Well a lot. As a thirteen year old I was in an environment in which there was frequently blood dripping down my locker from fist fights, girls were encouraged to be promiscuous in dress and action, bullying, physical and emotional, was a regular and accepted part of everyday life. To achieve was to be shunned, to think was to be shunned, to engage was to be shunned.

In the winter of that year I begged my parents to let me look into some of the local independent schools. They conceded, having witnessed the changes in my enthusiasm about school as well as the school’s unwillingness to take steps to improve the situation by refusing to allow me into the GT classes for which I was qualified but had arrived in Virginia too late for registration. I was lucky enough to be admitted to several schools in the area and hence took advantage of the opportunity to spend a day shadowing a student at each one. One the day I visited my alma mater it was like coming home. Every girl I met played a sport AND worked hard in school. Students and teachers alike spoke to me with genuine interest, classes were engaging, and most important to me the students and teachers all seemed happy to be at school. I worried as my parents signed on to pay the tuition that would require significant sacrifice for our family that it would all be too good to be true and turn out to be no better than the mega-school. My fears were soon alleviated when a student called me mid-summer to let me know she would be my “buddy”, the coaches of the sports I was to play that year invited me to their summer team camps, there was an orientation so I knew where my classes would be held, and my faculty advisor called to introduce herself and explain her role. On the first day of ninth grade I had more friends than I had had all year in eighth grade, by the end of the first week I had more conversations with teachers and completed more homework than in the entire previous year. I felt as though I had found myself again and was finally thriving at school. I felt at home.

One of the other new students that year was from my neighborhood and had gone to the same public school as me the year before. Like me she was seeking a different environment for high school. However, after our tenth grade year she chose to return to public school because it was a better fit for her interests and personality – I wish I could recall all of the details of her decision for you but I can’t. She and I, though, have remained close friends serving as confidants throughout college, bridesmaids in weddings, and support systems in our adult lives. Why do I tell you this? Because her decision to return to public high school was clearly the right one for her, she thrived there where she felt suffocated in the smaller independent school.

How did my experience lead me to a career in independent school admissions? I knew that I wanted to benefit students in the same way that my teachers benefitted me. My high school teachers pulled me back from the brink of disengagement by asking me questions, providing immense amounts of feedback, and by believing in me and challenging me throughout my high school experience. As the admissions director I most enjoy working with families who are actively looking for the school that is the correct fit for their student and family. There are differences between both public and private schools as well as within the private school community and, as my friend’s experience always reminds me, a school may be the right fit for one student and not another. I carry that philosophy with me into every parent or student meeting during which I do not see my job as convincing families to attend Wakefield, rather I endeavor to help families identify honestly and correctly if Wakefield is the best fit for them. Independent school had an enormous positive impact on me and I want as many students to have that same experience as possible, the experience being the one in which the student feels like they are home when they arrive at school.