Starting Over

Editor’s Note: A version of this story also appeared in Brimmer Magazine.

My first Senate meeting as president was a little chaotic. I scrambled to figure out attendance, typed up a last-minute agenda, and stumbled over my words.

But as I sat in that chair at the front of math teacher Rupa Houndegla’s room for the first time, something clicked. I remembered myself as a freshman, just a month into moving to America from Beijing, sitting quietly at the back tables, watching the president lead. Back then, I thought, “Wow, that’s impressive.” If she could see me now, I think she’d be really proud.

Starting high school fresh in a new country was tough. I had to say goodbye to friendships I had, the culture that I grew up with, and the food I loved. I imagined what life would be like in the U.S., and I hoped to fit in quickly. However, for a very long time, I felt "othered."

It felt like I was part of a liminal space, surrounded by invisible glass walls. My bilingual background made me feel like I didn’t fit in. I was never enough for the locals or the international students.

I thought I knew American culture well from attending an international school in Beijing, but I only realized how much more I had to learn. Most of my knowledge about America and its culture came from movies or clips I saw online: football players, cheerleaders, fast food, and safety concerns.

I also heard stories from my friends in Beijing who came to the U.S. earlier, during middle school, about how exciting their daily school lives were. The night before my freshman year orientation, I tried to picture what everyone would be like: warm, welcoming, and maybe I could click with someone immediately.

The truth, however, was quite different from my expectations. I could only smile and nod awkwardly through conversations about TV shows I’d never seen, TikTok memes I didn’t understand, and artists I’d never heard of.

People were very friendly to me, but it felt difficult to establish a deeper connection. I didn’t know how to bridge the gap; it seemed like an impossible challenge. I was also a relatively shy student, which made everything harder. Feeling lost was my daily reality, like stepping into a world where everyone knew the rules but me.

From what I observed, friend groups at School and in the area are often defined by nationality and race. While this made sense, I didn’t want to stay in a bubble of strictly international students. I wanted to be here fully. I wanted to feel included and make my contributions like any other community member.

My Places

At a time when everything felt stuck, the School’s activities and clubs welcomed me. I joined everything I could. I started off by auditioning for the fall play, Peter and the Starcatcher. I signed up for volleyball, one of the few sports I ever tried. I ran for class representative and was elected by my classmates.

I joined The Gator, our student newspaper, at the start of the year and enjoyed it so much that I signed up for Journalism class in the spring. Theater was the one thing I knew I’d enjoy; play rehearsals with Bill Jacob were fun and freeing, and I auditioned for my first-ever musical and had a total blast. More importantly, I was surprised by how much I loved every other activity I tried.

Student Senate and Journalism were different from what I had expected, but better. In both places, I discovered a voice I didn’t know I had.

I spent most of my first year in Senate observing and just showing up to events, but still I learned so much—how to advocate and, more importantly, how to serve as a leader. I transitioned a little from trying to fit in to trying to find out.

My first editors, Marlie Kass ’23 and Cathy Wu ’24, became great mentors and friends of mine while fixing errors in my articles. They introduced me to the basics of journalistic writing while also familiarizing me with the School. My chats with Marlie inspired me to keep diving into theater, and she also recommended me to NEMPAC, a theater I’d later volunteer for multiple times as an assistant director and stage manager.

Still, I often felt conflicted. I wanted to share a new joke I’d picked up on social media or an interesting story about myself, but I was worried that speaking up would make people judge me.

Yet, if I stayed quiet, no one would ever really know me. That’s why my classes came as such a relief: Biology with Jared Smith, where I made dating profiles for the mitochondria; World History with Kelly Neely, where maps and empires came alive; and English with Bradley Starr and Kenley Smith, who introduced me to Harkness and deep textual analysis, and where I found my deepest passion in the spoken and written word.

Those first Harkness discussions for Oryx and Crake sparked my interest in analytical reading and writing while I engaged in interesting conversations with classmates. I can still vividly remember the first Harkness discussion I had in Smith’s English class, where I responded to a fellow classmate’s idea and added my own story.

My heart was beating a little quicker than usual, but when I looked around the room, I saw pairs of engaged eyes and affirming nods. Those positive reactions gave me so much power.

I realized that speaking up could bring connection, not judgement. That feeling remained with me, quietly building my courage. I started to find my way out of the roadblocks and found joy in sharing my ideas and experiences.

One step at a time, these small discoveries and victories in the classroom expanded to other parts of my life at School. I spoke up more frequently during classroom discussions and talked to more classmates I didn’t know well. By the end of ninth grade, I felt brave enough to take on bigger commitments.

I joined the Creative Arts Signature Diploma Program (CAP) with a concentration in theater, where I found my favorite voice yet. Working alongside other talented artists in the program and supportive mentors, I took courses like Improvisation for the Stage, Musical Theatre, and Directing, and I joined Greenline. CAP was one of the first spaces where I stopped worrying about standing out but focused on finding my light through art.

In the newsroom, I worked my way up to Senior Journalist, Managing Editor, and finally Editor-in-Chief. I enjoyed writing news pieces and reviews for the shows I’d seen on Broadway, in New York, and in Boston. Seeing my voice come to life in the form of art and written words was so rewarding.

I wrote about Chinese culture, pieces that explain the history and customs of various traditional festivals, and I felt immense pride in sharing my culture in this way. CAP and The Gator became spaces where I felt comfortable to lead with my authentic self, not the version that would be accepted without a doubt.