Commencement 2008: Off to "Do the Best Work"

As part of his Good morning! on what he called “another perfect Ojai day,”  Head of School Michael K. Mulligan reminded the assembled hundreds that at Thacher Commencements, our goal is to honor each graduate’s best self, to name and applaud the qualities that have distinguished him or her, and the ways he or she has helped to keep our community thriving and vibrant.

“These Senior Tributes are first impressions ratified by multiple examples over time. Some slices you [parents] have heard already, since they have gone home to you in instructor and advisor reports. Woven into these, too, are snippets of your children's poems, a phrase plucked from an Assembly announcement here or there, a line from a song sung as long ago as sophomore year or as recently as this week.

“In them are pieces of conversations, formal and informal, e-mail signature lines, in-jokes, and communal humor, the eternal in the ephemeral.”

And with a rousing “Here we go!”  the crowd was off to witnessing 63 moments in the spotlight.  (What follows below is a bit misleading: the diplomas were actually handed out, as is tradition, in random order. As Mully said, “It makes it a lot more fun for everyone!”)


Amanda Sachs Ach
A classmate defined Amanda: “She is always a lively presence in the classroom.” We’ll use the second definition of that key adjective: “animated, exciting, intellectually stimulating.” Amanda is the spark that fires up any material, and, as one teacher said, “the harder the task, the better the outcome.”  Lobachevsky and “Imaginary Geometry” or The Sound and the Fury. Let ‘er have at it—and no need to test her intelligence, either, since as teacher or fellow student, you feel its force daily. She drives to the material’s center, returning with a nuanced analytical essay, an insightful, informing speech, a set of comprehensive calculations. She loves the investigation as much as the resolution—a scholar with the natural impulse, perfect vision, and unassailable smarts of a CSI star. Amanda’s forensic capabilities also help her plan her approach to a compositional challenge in a photograph she’s taking or to opponents on the tennis court, where her intensity, determination, and aggressiveness play out to positive effect for her team. That energy, applied to social events on campus, translates to well-organized, efficiently run all-School games and assigned date dances—and Amanda’s there early and late, setting up and taking down. Amanda’s soft side finds expression in connections to the St. Joseph’s elderly and patients at the MS Center in San Francisco, and to friends. Her loyalty is unwavering. Yet she’s got “a wicked sense of humor,” says one ami dévoué—“She’s my go-to girl for laughter every time.”  Lively, it turns out, can also mean “responsiveness to the helm”—that Amanda is. She has steered exceptionally well the course she set four years ago.

Christopher Martin Ammons
Chris himself called a Computer Science course here “the launching pad” for understanding his learning and working style. We’d say he’s blasted off, his natural curiosity the jet fuel and his wide eyes setting the trajectory. His teachers have called him intuitive, quick thinking, energetic, enthusiastic, a student who makes unusual connections. Where problem solving, debate, or hands-on learning are the train, he’s on board: mapping, mazing, coding, engineering—enjoying the ride. Outside of school, that ride is literal—on a bike, snowboard, skis, or horse, or across the frets of a bluegrass guitar. In each of these, Chris isn’t in it just for the wind-in-the-hair sensation, but for deeper comprehension and meaning. How do you move Mustang Sally from the wild bunch to your human herd? In another worthy endeavor, how do you help disabled kids to a wider, more wonderful world by joining them up with horses? Push-through and patience pay off here, and elsewhere: Put a lacrosse stick in Chris’ hand and he’ll go relentlessly after ground balls, set to restringing it, or coach another on how to use it. Put him in a small chorus in Annie Get Your Gun or a duet in the Spring Sing, and he’ll sing, dance, and convince you that it actually does stink to be him. Put a backpack on his back, load ‘er up with group gear and food, and Chris will merge physical strength and mental stamina to constructive effect. (That he can sing on the trail or around a campfire is a bonus.) Good-hearted, playful, and kind, Chris has connected with Thacher with what a friend rightly called “a stunning love.” Put that in your guitar and strum it!

Allison Murray Barbey  
Allie knows well the rewards of doing what you say you’re going to do: You get back more than you give, which leaves more for the next round. This is true whether you’re racing your legs off and your heart out in the 400 meter, breathing life back into The Thacher Notes, hiking Skyline to the Sea (part of which you actually run, blisters and bites be darned) or sixty miles trans-Sierra (the only girl on the trip), dribbling the ball goalward down the soccer field, tending compassionately and with unfailing commitment to Mildred at Acacia’s, or fulfilling a multifaceted, multi-media analytical project on Cartier-Bresson in French. In all she does, the plucky Allie drives hard, pushes herself to the limit, but also provides the inexhaustibly happy model for spending time well and expending energies wisely. Her natural exuberance and warm-heartedness positively imbue the groups she’s part of, in a Room E English classroom or an EnviSci lab, cohorts small and large, here on campus and elsewhere—say, in post-Katrina Louisiana or at each spring’s Special Olympics in Ventura, where her connection to the athletes is authentic, and her friendship with Vince and JB is real: She feels their victories as her own. A classmate translated it this way: “Allie is fiercely protective of those she loves.” Another added, “Once you are Allie’s friend, she will be by your side no matter what you do. She is a constant and sturdy rock.” True—but in Allie’s worldview, which cherishes community as something we make together actively and daily, that rock is a part of a much bigger garden. And its importance and beauty lie only in what it gives to the whole.

Timothy Francis Brown
Extraordinary explanatory powers. Mastery of language. Flawless answers in a Senior Exhibition Q & A. Sooooo intellectual. Limits? What limits? We will stop short of inserting “savant” as a second middle name for Tim, but the ease with which he navigates and cruises the world of the mind makes it hard to resist. Tim does what his teachers call “stand-out work” in every course he takes, in part because he’s so nimble of mind (“a walking thesaurus,” said one teacher, and, added a friend, “the last person I want to get  in an argument with if I want to win it”.) The other part? Tim also has the courage to sit in the devil’s advocacy seat, to take the heat it generates and turn it to what Faulkner called a “shrewd fire.” He also prepares with thoroughness and attention to minutiae. He can analyze and synthesize, anatomize, memorize, extemporize, and crystallize—and look great in Bayou backwater overalls or in a blond wig, speaking Spanish in falsetto. (Frankly, his range gives us sensacion de estar mareado.) Fine as they are, though, these qualities are nothing to Tim’s resiliency. With maturity and courage, he took the bitter pill of significant injury, tossed it back, and pursued a personal reinvention few adults could manage. Naturally, others are drawn to Tim by this hopefulness and vibrancy, this raw personal strength—peers, younger students, faculty. He has become a teacher himself, a coach. The same friend who won’t wrangle Tim in debate finished that sentence like this: “…but he’s the first person I’d call if I were in trouble and needed help.”  Long story short: Tim makes every situation he’s in man-up.

Sarah Brown-Campello
When a friend and fan of Sarah’s wrote, “She has an absolutely amazing spirit,” she spoke for us all. It’s the spirit of inclusiveness, kindness, of determination and flexibility, of furry earflap-hat funniness—the kind Thacher runs on. And it amazes because it’s as reliable and comforting as the morning sun lighting the Jersey shore or Ipanema Beach. Sarah has a rare ability to read others, to understand their needs, and to provide for them in a way that is both thoughtful and staunch. Another classmate said, “She always knows how to make you smile.” Sarah’s a student, athlete, friend, and leader who holds herself to a high standard of gumption and follow-through. She takes the idea of “word as bond” seriously: rather than just checking off the usual boxes, she pours herself into her commitments totally, hauling gear up ladders to record a football game, fine-tuning her Senior Exhibition or essay on Islam, or leading her soccer and lacrosse teams to ever-finer, more-points play by her uniquely inspirational blend of intensity and self-control. “She was,” said a teacher of SB-C on his Extra Day Trip, “the de facto second faculty member, role model, motivator, and soothing presence for everyone.” Long on character and courage, Sarah stands and speaks for the right, among her peers and younger schoolmates, resisting group drift to honor the principles at the points of her compass. Yet she is also funny, catching the ironic as easily as a mid-flight ball, and making others laugh harder than they thought possible. If God is, as SB-C once wondered, “like a karma-man,” Sarah can expect nothing but good things shaped like lightning bolts to circle around to her, because what she’s created here.

John Brannon Cavalier
“He just puts his head down and goes,” admires one teacher about Brannon. It’s tried and true: without fanfare or any apparent need for yackety-yak external affirmation or kudos, Brannon seeks the challenges he yearns for, masters the skills to face them, tightens his belt, then moves on to the next intriguing book, idea, activity, or adventure of mind or body. Understated yet energetic, highly respectful of others, thoughtful and inquisitive, he is an engaged Thacher citizen—generous with his time (helping a sophomore on a Gatsby papers or listening to a friend’s problems), embracing of Thacher’s horse and camping heritage, and immersed in his learning. “You see the effects of his actions, but almost never see him in the doing,” said someone of his particular sort of influence. Brannon’s circle of friends is wide, his range of talents broad: his significant academic success boot-scoots across all subject areas, a testament to his assiduous preparation, his innate insightfulness, his multiplicity of intelligences, and his ability (in the words of a teacher) “to think with precision, originality, and balance.” Who else could take you on a cross-discipline trip through the history of Cosmology—no rest stops, either—and not lose you along the way? All this makes Brannon a boon companion, in M1, on Jameson Field, or, as an ace venturer, through the Cuyama Valley. One such fellow traveler attested, “Whether we are on the steepest cliff, or in the fastest race, or tackling the hardest problem, I never doubt his knowledge.” Brannon wished that 200-mile horse adventure a year ago had lasted longer. Funny: We wish the exact same of his four years with us.

Chien-Hung “Jeffrey” Chen
Learning at the speed of light in a second language might be challenge enough. But that plus remaining positive, can-do, and cheerful? Such is the goal Jeff set for himself. And such is the stuff he is made of: asking just the right question in AP Calculus or Biology to illuminate everyone’s understanding, asking for more to pile on his academic plate out of pure, wide-ranging interest, asking what needs to be done around camp before hitting the hay, asking to perform one more song for the delighted elderly audience at the convalescent home, asking for a different horse each year for the sheer challenge of it. With this “What else/what more?” appetite, Jeff expands his own world and, importantly, others’, even as he links us, say through his work for United Cultures of Thacher or his all-for-one-and-one-for-all contributions to years of Thacher musicals, Wild West to revolutionary France. Jeff’s biggest delight, second perhaps only to cheering on his cow-sorting, hurry-scurrying Blue Teammates, comes through sharing his music, penned in the universal language. JC, with the Sunshine Troopers and solo, spreads that light like butter, performing original songs, he writes at every opportunity. He takes his tunes and his guitar to every venue possible, Open House to birthday parties to coffeehouses, and to cafés farther afield. Now, having tried it all out here, Jeff is eager for other stages, “itching for the tall grass and longing for the breeze.” But trust us, Jeff, when we urge you forward: you do want to get on that winding road, and you are ready for it. Our good wishes are packed right in with your guitar and ukulele.

Yeda Choi
Yeda might have felt she’d landed in Oz when she first arrived in this valley: Emerald, yes, but no city like Seoul in sight. Yet Yeda—calm, open-minded, and optimistic—not only learned to get along with horses, backpacks and team sports, but ultimately found their value; she incrementally embraced a second language and immersed herself in a third, keeping a playful sense of humor bound closely with her intention. Yeda has proven that her mettle is iron-bar strong, that practice makes perfect, in a flute duet, a yoga pose, or on the defensive end of a lacrosse field, new this year. A natural in mathematics and sciences, Yeda is an organizational fiend whose determination and creative strength translate to projects, presentations, and papers that help others understand principle and practice. When she speaks, others listen, with good reason. Eager to travel beyond the curve of the earth as seen from Thacher’s hills, Yeda earned a ticket to School Year Abroad in Zaragoza, Spain, for junior year. Reports soon came back extolling her even-temperedness, worldly-wise comportment, power-house intellect. Not news to us, but affirmation that we had much to look forward to when Yeda returned. She has met this year’s challenges in her own enviable rhythm: writing short stories and computer code, explaining the complex historical figure of Francisco Franco to an audience of peers, teachers, and parents. Yeda challenges perceptions and even her own eyes, to catch the view far beyond the obvious. One friend contends, “Her shyness? That’s just a front. She is actually one of the funniest people I know.”  Yeda moves through life with gentleness and poise, her purpose clear and true, her smile infectious and broad.

Alexandra McNabb Cook
No need to say to Lexie, “Tell me what you really think.” Truth is, Lexie holds opinions that are well-informed and Fort Knox defendable; that she has the verbal velocity to take on all comers is a gift of which she has made much hay while the sun shone dazzlingly on her Thacher years. She is highly respected on campus for her intellectual dynamism and intrepid approach to every course she’s taken: “a remarkable student,” wrote a teacher, “who does remarkable work.” A classmate added: “She’s quick to engage in serious debate, but just as quick to join in on witty banter.” Confident and original, articulate and persuasive, Lexie is also quicksilver fluid in her thinking and analysis, whether it’s zeroed in on the Ebola virus, a McCarthy novel, or the immigration issue, pass the complexity, por favor, and publish it in The Notes. On soccer and lacrosse fields, Lexie goes on scoring jags that stun opponents and fans in the bleachers, her red-hot speed to the goal like wings to her becleated feet, whatever the field position. Her ferociously competitive spirit moves teammates to ratchet up their play. And when the trail goes long and blisters bloom, best to just hand over the moleskin and tape, and watch how resolute physical courage simply marches onward, one mile, one switchback after another until that mountain’s behind her. Said a friend, “I think Lexie is one of those people who is going to really pursue her passions and make a difference in the world.”  Based on what these four years have demonstrated, we won’t bet against that hypothesis, since every shred of empirical evidence supports it. Watch out, world.

Brenna Jeanne Donnelly
Brenna is, in a word, nice—not the sticky-sweet kind, but the sort that endures far beyond its first influence. It would not occur to her to speak ill of another person. We doubt she even thinks poorly of anyone else. Eternally optimistic, obviously born onto the sunny side of Santa Barbara Street, Brenna greets the day and the people in it—tykes, teens, adults, and the elderly—with authentic caring. When she asks how you are, she means she’s actually interested in knowing. As for the tasks each day holds in a school as demanding as this, one faculty member put Brenna’s consistently responsible approach this way: “When faced with a challenge, Brenna seems always to say ‘yes.’” This means that she brings an unobtrusive dynamism that is felt by all around her—like that cosmic hum you sense when the world stills in the middle of the night. It is an activity of mind and soul that opens itself to new ideas or to old ideas newly perceived, one that results in an upward spiral of learning, English to Art History, Psychology to Biology and Spanish. Kind-hearted and unfailingly generous with her time and her gentle spirit, Brenna also repeatedly seeks connections well beyond Thacher’s bounds, through service projects often of her own invention: she has tutored elementary school kids and spent many hours at Oak Tree House, has hammered Habitat for Humanity houses and shepherded children in local community events. It is her nature to go beyond tolerance to understand the difficulties others face, to meet harshness with tenderness. In that interchange, Brenna creates the win-win we all cherish-cherish.

Meredith Ilana Raab Dworkin
How can anyone move so speedily between the brain and the funny bone? It’s real simple: Meredith may be blessed with lightning-quick wit and incisive intelligence, but she keeps her crack-me-up humor close at hand, sensing irony while it’s still miles away. She is, irrefutably, an academic powerhouse. Civil wars, Supreme Court cases, 20th century media influence, Yourcenar’s short stories: Meredith takes risks, will not settle for an easy answer (so don’t even try it), and swallows chunks of knowledge whole. She is also unabashed about that scholarly appetite and about having well-founded opinions. But she makes the learning fun, the acquisition easier—playing Stephen Douglas to a classmate’s Abe Lincoln, giving an insider’s look at Passover in a side-splittingly funny short story, or putting the psychological phenomenon of alienation into poetry—and the moment goes from ho-hum to completely memorable. Her soulmates might hang their hats in the History office, but every single teacher who’s worked with Meredith agrees: “She’s a delightful person to be around.” Topa Topa kids and some lucky ones in San Francisco, residents of St. Joe’s, those sharing the basketball court or lacrosse field with her—all look to Meredith as inspiring, someone whose sense of self is locked down tight and whose warmth and compassion envelop totally and without reservation. Responsible and responsive, Meredith keeps her attitude set on “positive,” whether she’s in the goal or coping with the most recent dorm drama. A friend put it this way: “Meredith always has something to say about everything” (we concur) “which keeps the rest of us entertained and in high spirits. She’s one of the most genuine, well-meaning friends I've ever had.” No need, as far as we can see, to amend that.

John Sergeant Eastburn III
Jack has the sort of focus that can keep him engaged in a book on international conflict reconciliation when all around him virtual bombs are blasting. This—along with what we call a really big, ole’ brain—has helped him achieve at steady and exceptional pace for four years—success particularly astounding in light of his body being busy adding about three inches in height annually. He has second vision when it comes to numbers; remarked one teacher, “I swear there are times when Jack can actually see math.” In physics, his conceptual mastery and problem solving skills have been called “unparalleled.” But however tempting it might be, don’t send Jack into engineering or medicine quite yet: he’s equally as interested in the fiction of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster as how you might actually get him up walking and talking. Except when he’s playing the self-centered Dr. Hun in a rowdy game of Mafia, what Jack cares about he looks after with the scrupulousness and follow-through of a Thenardier counting his money or the quintessential big brother who keeps watch out of pure caring: friendships with younger students, his peers, the faculty, Uncle Jack; a certain freshman boy; the school newspaper, defunct for years until Jack dusted it off; PTS and the Gun Club; the next lacrosse attack; the success of a camping trip; Open House, start to finish. “It all made sense,” wrote a friend when he learned of Jack’s being an Eagle Scout: “He perfectly reflects all points of the Scout oath and law.” Physically strong: check. Mentally awake: check. Morally straight: check. We’d only add these: honor, fairness, kindness, truth. Quadruple check.

Matthew Karl Eilar
Matt has a sort of ESP. We don’t mean he’s got a sixth sense, exactly (though he might)—only that more than the usual five are highly attuned in him. Or maybe that he qualifies for the lion’s share of Howard Gardner’s nine intelligences? First and foremost, there’s Matt the musician: sit him at the keyboard of first, a prized Baldwin spinet, then a Petrof or Yamaha, and melt as he croons you to unadulterated adulation, channeling Looking Glass, Giordani, Talking Heads, or Mr. Morton, and ending with a glissando flourish. Turn him around and the keyboard sideways, and he’s an accordian player. Give him space, and he’ll help create Potential Banad, write the repertoire, play mandolin and harmonica, and sing his own lyrics that range from silly to soulful to sublime, as if the music alone weren’t moving enough. But take away the music, and what’s left is still abundance: a sought-after, witty conversationalist in both formal and informal circles, Matt typically eschews chit-chat for the more meaningful; he genuinely appreciates what others bring to the discourse, in seminars, HR&S confabs, at dinner, at the kitchen counter during Open House.  His intellectual and emotional openness and self-assurance add breadth to his pursuit of knowledge—which has been and promises to be earnest and life-long. While Matt can be serious and intentional, he never allows his humor wander far. He lets it point out your foibles (“You’re like a Chihuahua chasing a Viennese sausage!”), but he doesn’t overlook his own. “He has,” says a friend, “an unbeatable inner kindness,” one that responds to the young and the old, the human and the really big equine. Matt’s creative vitality here has been as big as a bear-hug, has given us “joy as far as time.”

Alina Marie Everett
As hungry for challenge as she is tenacious in facing it, Alina enjoys working hard for what she achieves. And it’s a wholly internal mechanism. As one friend wrote, “She knows what she wants, and she won’t let anyone talk her out of it.”  It’s not just tiaras she’s after, though she does wear them well. A Thacher Ensemble Dancer for three years, she is determined and dedicated, a powerful jumper with an arabesque extension that reaches practically to the rafters—her Idaho figure-skating prowess and flexibility brought south and thawed out for our benefit.  That same flexibility translates to Alina’s dependable stage work fiddling in small ensembles or singing and dancing in major productions—early on as one of Tiger Lilly’s tribe, then as a can-can, pom-pom, or—who’dathunkit—red-light girl. There’s nothing shady, though, about Alina in the classroom or lab. There, she seeks the highest level of engagement, devouring books in English or texts in math and science, enlivening and enlightening the conversation, sticking with a problem or translation until she solves it or, with others, creates a novel way in. The research method that can, for example, get at the totality of Rudolf Nureyev reflects her extreme focus and yields abundance for those with whom she shares her knowledge. Alina has found that fulcrum where sheer physics, mental strength, technical understanding, and untold hours of practice merge as something both simple and so difficult to achieve: true poise. Alina shares this secret with others, supporting them in their own quests for balance and fulfillment. With her record of achievement and influence, who’d want to talk Alina out of anything?

Claire Sunderland Ferguson
Claire is sure-footed and clear-sighted as she walks the various lines required by Thacher and by her own internal standards of excellence. As a student, she brings the energy of a fertile and razor-sharp mind to each of her academic pursuits, blending intelligence with maturity. She’s produced history essays that seem to belong in an academic journal and contributed to English discussions in a way to suggest she might be our next hire in that department. Her “appreciable mix of smarts and fluency” is often the tide lifting the whole fleet in a class, regardless of the topic or its difficulty, Streptococcus pyroges or Ben Jelloun. Moreover, Claire seeks the fullest understanding possible, in the text, outside of it, squeezing the most out of every available resource. Claire climbed out of the Thacher saddle for her junior year, headed east and across the Atlantic to France, there to do what a friend says she’s locally famous for: “always looking to broaden her world view.” Claire embraced School Year Abroad in Rennes with arms flung wide, “falling,” in her own words, “completely in love with the experience and process of discovery and education from a distinctly different point of view.” She brought herself and that valuable perspective back to us, merci vraiment, to be a respected leader and an inspiration to her Stateside schoolmates, balancing the most rigorous of course loads with responsibility to those who count on her firm guidance and empathetic nurturing. We’ll withhold “Bonne chance,” for we know that the civic-minded, full-hearted Claire already has everything she needs without any good luck wishes to speed her journey out of this village and into the global one.

Bruno Francisco Ferrari
Zero to sixty in two seconds flat. No, we’re not talking about that Ferrari. We’re describing the speed with which Bruno can move from a single note, suspended in the ether, to a musical measure so dense with notes it’s a black hole, so alive with sound you are pulled to the edge of your seat. We all know the answer to How do you get to Carnegie Hall?—and Bruno is up for the practically perpetual practice it takes. From his Thacher debut in the Outdoor Theatre in the fall of 2004 (applause that nearly brought down tree limbs) to his Senior Exhibition performance in the PAC, this phenom has dazzled with his dexterity, astonished with his artistry. He’s humble about his gifts, but even the musically uninitiated know beautifully interpreted Chopin from chopped liver—and Bruno never fails to deliver the very best of the goods, and from memory, no less. Grieg, Schubert, Beethoven, Bach: reliably enthralling, jump-to-your-feet-and-applaud exhilarating. As for his classmates and friends, one claims, “Everybody loves Bruno. He’s got a goofy sense of humor and has never said an unkind word.” Of course, if he did, it might be in any of six languages—more of that massive memory at work—and that uniquely international exposure in his youth.  Once in an orange-and-green uniform, though, on the track or over the hill-and-dale of the cross-country course, schnell, rápido, vit, rapidus, velocimente, kuài sù (??) is what Bruno trains hard to be. In the classroom, he’s capable of what his teachers have called “sophisticated thinking”—and of confident participation in the dialogue. As Bruno leaves Thacher, it is we who bend to bow deeply.

Edwin Samuel Flores
Edwin has a long reach initially expressed in his application and admission to Thacher and confirmed when, two years later, he loped towards a white circle in the gymkhana field dirt, leaned far down, and scooped up a handful of earth—and a disc of pure silver. A fine mind and a natural intuition allow Edwin to link A to B and on through the alphabet; his questions can lead others to a better understanding of the concept or issue. Studying literature or certain historical and contemporary problems, such as the economic and cultural influences on housing, or the intersection of the Civil Rights movement with the plight of African-American and Hispanic/Chicano soldiers in Vietnam, he is “acute, sensitive, and inventive in his analysis.” Edwin knows how to peer through the surface water to see the treasures below and to plunge in and retrieve them—and then present them to others. For four years on the football field, Edwin has been a presence and a loyal teammate, vocal in his support of others, cheering and always placing the well-being of the team above his own. On the back of Willy, captaining a horse trip through the Santa Ynez backcountry or running the California flag for his Blue Team at Big Gymkhana, Edwin goes for the tight turn on the poles and a fearlessly breakneck race to the finish. Or, at a more studied pace, on foot, he generously opens the world of Thacher to visitors, guiding families not merely around campus, but perhaps to their own place here. Edwin seeks to offer the hand-up and the way in to others, ensuring that Thacher can become for the next in line, what it has been for him: the means to explore both outwardly and inwardly.
 
Emerson Vagneur Gates
There are at least two ways to appreciate Emmo: Get up really close to see the mind-blowing, exquisite detail in Emmo’s technical pen-and-ink drawing of a half-man/half-robot, a piece that can hold you Escher-mesmerized for an hour. Or stand way back to leave extra room for laughter and knee-slapping when you see him illuminating the stage, guerilla or not, as Gaston or Ezra Chater, Sitting Bull, Gremio or Argante, Eddie Izard, or the shimmering-robed narrator of 1001 Arabian Nights. Invited into the tale of Emmo’s time at Thacher, you happily turn page after colorful page of a character come vividly, fully to life. Sharp-witted and highly creative, intrigued by how things work and why, Emmo is no mere Wale(s) Watcher: he delves as gleefully into eukaryotic cells as into James Watson’s classic study of fear as into the subtleties of camp-craft, working collaboratively or solo. Ensemble work shows one side of Emmo: not only under the PAC or Outdoor Theatre spotlight, but as a player-and-leader in lacrosse, as a varsity Teamster skillfully harnessing the incalculable power of two Percherons and showing others how it’s done, as the yearbook’s graphic designer or as a member of the choir that brings weekly cheer to the older folks downtown. The other side is the independent Emmo, writer and deliverer of monologues, seeker of a voice that is otherwise “locked in the mind”; the artist pulling painstaking, late hours to get it just right. We’ll earmark today’s page, returning to it for the memory of a wild-haired, long-limbed boy grown into a young man as we watched. May the story spin out forever.

Jay Alden Harman
Most students arrive at Thacher with an intuitive, fairly amorphous idea of what education is all about. Jay came with one full-blown and clear, a philosophy rooted in his exceptional mindfulness and keen intelligence. He sought a “lens through which [to] view the world.” What he found here he has dared to challenge, not out of pique but out of a genuine desire to hold his school to the highest standard. Jay’s driven by insatiable curiosity, particularly in the realm of science and mathematics, and his bold daring in sophisticated intellectual discourse yields him a special place in his classes. Wrote one teacher, “Jay is one of the few truly fearless students who will attempt any question.” Failure’s a problem only if you didn’t make a guess, take a stab, work that leather awl or stamp, cut down the bamboo for a sword, throw that leg high over the hurdle, add yeast to the cinnamon roll dough, pick up the cow femur on the trail, manipulate the narrative form, or toss the discus with all your strength and skill. To the question, “Why did you make the moccasin this way?” he answers with his life philosophy: “I did it to make sure I could—and because it’s interesting to do.” This applies, too, on Yosemite rock face or Sierra trail, both of which Jay ascends with a combination of intelligence, delight, and expertise: head, heart, and hands brought together for best effect, especially considering the positive influence he has on novices looking up at him for instructive example. Add the ineffable glint of impish good humor in his eye, and you see the Jay we’re grateful to have had for three years, giving this school a whirl.

Adam Lee Harmon
A photo from a 9th grade Lower School skit captures half of a colorful, spandex-clad, helmeted bicyclist speeding across the Library Amphitheatre. Even back then, it was clear: Better have your shutter speed set to 1000 to catch this Adam when he’s in these moments, which are some of his happiest and most fulfilling—racing down Thacher Road’s steep incline, taking a tornado-tight turn onto Carne, then chilling out on Grand. Of course, you’d also need to set your alarm for dawn, because Adam’s of the “early-to-bed-early-to-rise-eager-to-ride” sort. At his core are these qualities: an enviable centeredness, exceptional self-discipline, and a clear vision of a self possible beyond the one he’s living in at the moment. Adam knows how to prioritize so that his Thacher days can contain all he wants them to, and all they must. Despite his power to blur, he also understands how to be still—to explore the natural world through camping trips, Teamsters work, and courses in Environmental Science and Science and Society, and to investigate the inner world through literature and creative writing classes, listening with attunement to others then offering his own deeply thoughtful observations and interpretations. Adam quietly cares and shares: articulating the need for change in a school policy round-table, serving the Ojai homeless or setting a positive example for others as he makes an ironclad commitment to  “live green.” Personal understanding and expansion have been Adam’s goal here, and he has used every gear in seeking it. To his great credit, he has found that nexus of equilibrium and beauty that poet Archibald MacLeish calls “motionless in motion.” With or without the six-pack of TAB dangling from his hand.

Kelsey Anne Harrington
When it’s a Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, and you hear the footfalls on the path or approaching your classroom and a self-assured voice with a built-in smile, you can bet your bottom dollar it’s Kelsey on yet another admissions tour—talking, gesturing, and walking backwards. She’s showing off a school she loves without reservation—an adoration that shows itself in every gift she brings this community. There are many: a powerful work ethic, unmitigated willingness to pitch in or play wherever the volleyball or basketball team needs her, intellectual facility in every academic discipline, an ability to apply there what she understands here, finely-tuned intuition, impeccable follow-through, a full heart. One faculty member said of Kelsey, “She pushes past her own perspective to look outside herself to other’s opinions, needs, and desires.” No teenage angst here, nor posturing. In Kelsey what you see is what you get, and thank goodness. As another admirer wrote, “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone purely more genuine.” Although she is certainly serious in her intent, Kelsey has a light and loving touch with everyone—younger students she tutors in math and French, local senior citizens, her friends and classmates. All this, and she is modest. Of her many strikingly effective photographs, one of Kelsey’s most expressive takes as its springboard an A.A. Milne poem. In her piece, the dance of light and shadow on stairs invites the looker into an unspoken conversation with the artist. We’re fortunate that Thacher has been Kelsey’s “sitting stair” for four years.  To this community’s distinct “somewhere else”ness, she has contributed more than she will ever know.

Nicole Joanna Haseltine
Centered in calm, laser-focused on the next essay or the next jump or hurdle, Nicole has what one coach calls “grit, grace, and confidence.” (That person adds, “She could get a three-legged burro around a course.”) Nicole has a well-honed discernment that allows her to separate the important from the frivolous, and then the critical from the important. Out of this kind of intelligence, she keeps clear on where to expend her energies. Do not let Nicole’s external reserve fool you: behind that quiet composure is a brain firing nanosecond connections. Whether it’s a passage in Spanish or English, Nicole gets to its heart, then absorbs its meaning to use for a later purpose. In math, writes her teacher, “She is able to answer questions that others cannot even touch.” Her personal writing is laced with cleverness, wit, and a sophisticated humor that exposes the extent of her emotional intelligence. This quality makes a sturdy, effective bridge to the horse world, where Nicole holds absolute sway and the top slot on Thacher’s Equestrian Team. Astride any thoroughbred, she is both nimbly responsive and ramrod intentional as she effectively guides her equine partners, known and new, on the flat and over fences, gathering ribbons with each round, enough by now to string to Wyoming and back. To Nicole, though, those fluttering awards matter less than having put in the long, late hours of sweaty preparation to bring her best self to the ring and, more broadly, to the Thacher community. With admirable resilience and bravery, she seems to recognize the possibilities in the adage that life takes nothing away from us that love cannot give back.

Clinton Barlow Henderson
Against the backdrop of undulating mountains to the west, as others are eating their supper during the opening day All-School games last fall, some body flings itself topsy-turvy, ultimately balancing straight-up on two hands, a perfect vertical against the horizontal of the soccer field. It’s Clinton. An off-hand, whimsical move, but abundantly illustrative of the way the amiable Clinton is in this world: on the move and supremely, joyfully kinesthetic. Clinton essentially owns the path from Upper School to the fitness room, but if he worships at the free-weights altar, he does so with a clear notion: to pay for achievement and respect on football and lacrosse field with sweat equity. Inspired by the Greek ideal that marries body, mind, and spirit, Clinton contributes strength both physical and mental to his teams and camping trips, but to it he adds a real caring for the group and its success. Contributing is Clinton’s m.o. in classes and behind a podium, where his observations and questions enliven, inform and convince even those of little faith—yes, there is some redeeming value in video games. The audience is wider and even louder in its appreciation when Clinton takes to the stage; no one plays a brother, a servant, even a mute with more gusto and concentration, with or without pink shoelaces and back-flips. Clinton may have had no choice in listening to Carmen Media Scholae as his childhood lullaby, but he completely owns his Thacher experience and the growth these four years have brought him. And we’re not just talkin’ biceps.

William Robert Hockey
How exactly “William” became “Hockey” is now faded with four years’ age—but how “Hockey” became synonymous with “adventure” is as clear as the rope-diamond on a perfect hitch. To play a little with Jesse Kahle’s locally famous line: the adventure came a’lookin’ for this perfect, open-handed recipient. Energetic, earnest, sleeves perpetually rolled up for work of all kinds, Hockey welcomes every chance for action: elsewhere, he’s been a bus boy, a ranch hand, a software developer, and an office cleaner—but here?  He’s been a Silver Dollar scooper-upper, a guide and mentor to young’uns and a fiercely loyal friend, a talented woodcraftsman, an ace straightshooter, the driving force behind Christian Fellowship’s blooming roster, a determined deep-digger in all his classes, an undisputed leader in the Thacher Pack and Spur club, “a veritable brick wall in the lacrosse goal” (lefty or not), and a point-winning mainstay in the Tri-School Gymkhana, as well as those less distant. William’s investment in Thacher has been comprehensive and highly principled. A friend wrote, “I admire his willingness to listen to others, while sticking to what he believes.” And one thing Hockey surely believes: the best lessons left untested are as empty as a pannier sitting on a pack station shelf. What better trial of self and team than a couple-hundred-mile horsepacking journey with two motivated buddies through the backcountry in June’s scorching heat? If the grail Hockey has sought at Thacher—to grow from a student into a thinker, from a good rider into a horseman, from a sometime leader into one consummate and true—then the cup is now securely in his hands.

Harrison Clothier Hoffman
Need help with something—anything? Harry always steps up, whether the job requires patient, kindly conversation with a Lower Schooler, or don’t-spare-the-elbow-grease cleaning, or shushing a crying faculty toddler, or late hours ensuring that the last bonfire ember is out. Fraternal and paternal, Harry looks after safety and comfort with an approach that never wavers. As a faculty member says, “You can hand off anything to him and know it will get done.” He’s no show-off about it, nor seeker of thanks or applause: he’s just effortlessly happy doing his part, his wide smile proof of his pleasure and your laughter proof of its reciprocal. In his classes, Harry prepares with diligence and more: he is concerned less with the facts per se (which he learns eagerly and well) than with their application to our present and humanity’s future. For Harry, history lessons merge with Environmental Science projects, and both can inform and enrich for him a piece of modern literature. “I’ve never had a student more involved in class,” lauds one teacher. Ultimately, the global good is what Harry wishes for, and his sterling personal qualities—plus the fact that he can disagree respectfully—will surely play into some future ambassadorship, metaphoric or real.  In Harry beats the heart of bona fide community: what he does, with rare maturity—in Lower School, in classrooms, with HR&S sophomores, on gridiron and baseball diamond—is in service to the Thacher ideals he holds close. We think that when SDT penned that final line of The Banquet Song, he hoped that somewhere in his school’s future, there’d be a student like Harry to carry the torch—and be ready with a water bucket if things got out of hand.

Audra La Verne Horton
“FIRE IT UP!!!!!!” We’d be crazy not to ask, prontissimo, “How high would you like that temperature?” Audra commands admiration wherever she walks, runs, sprints, and occasionally sits still on this campus. She labors no-holds-barred in her academics—writing and revising her essays, lining up statistics, organizing her labs—and her ethic of diligence and strong-willed determination applies across the board. Four words from a teacher: “Audra gets it done.” And four from another: “No one works harder.” From the get-go, this has been accurate of Audra’s studio, lab, and classroom work, as well as her varsity play—starting 9th grade, when, on the fly from gymkhana (the top-spot rider there) to lacrosse, Audra would trade boots and spurs for cleats. As a teammate shared, “She is so intense, it’s sometimes scary. But that’s what sets her apart.” Tenacious as any tick freeloading back from a horse trip in the Los Padres, Audra “masters the intangibles,” in the words of one coach, arriving with precision and split-second timing at the right place for the next play. As captain, she elevates the play of others by her hustle and flexibility, her crash-into-the-wall athleticism, remaining positive and continuing to demand excellence of herself even when the “Visitor” score clicks higher than “Home.” Win, lose or draw, Audra spells success t-e-a-m, carrying the concept from field to dorm to dining room table to faculty home to tandem sea kayaking. In the process, she spells it again: f-a-m-i-l-y. She knows that “love costs all we are”—and she happily pays.  One teacher wrapped it: “I respect Audra for everything she’s given to this place.” To concur, we’ll just throw in a few of those exclamation marks.

Genevieve Davis Jensen
Conjure an image of Genevieve, and she’s never empty-handed. First a polo mallet then a lacrosse stick, a horse crop, the California State flag, a microphone line, a script, score, or stethoscope, a book for an English class, a saddle, bridle, or martingale, a top hat or cane or any one of a thousand other props.  Gen’s Thacher life has always been active and vibrant in this hands-on-ness, though she rarely soft-shoes into the spotlight. Gen works contentedly behind the curtains, captivated by the questions that theater productions toss out: How to create an illusion? How does this lighting or sound shape tone? How can I help actors, techies, stagecrew so that the play looks effortless, credible? As assistant director in three major productions, Gen’s learned how many roads must converge to arrive at opening night, and in writing her own play, the reward of creating the script that is its genesis. Her artistic bent is strong, her meticulousness and imagination superb, in original work or in unveiling a new perspective on say, fairytales. Gen’s natural warmth supports and affirms others everywhere: in class discussion, she’s first to say, “Good point!” then build the next step upward. One student who arrived as a sophomore noted, “Gen was one of the first to welcome me into the community.” In camp, she’s first with jokes and first up for chores. Gen’s got the corner on good sportsmanship, but like Miss Congeniality, Gen also packs heat: when it comes to competition, in Arizona at the Tri-School Gymkhana on Jim, or, rough-and-ready on the lacrosse field, Gen is fearless in taking her best shot. Now to fill your hands again, Gen—with your well-earned diploma.

Yuta Kanai
Think of Yuta, then think of a color. Most of us who have seen him perform would say “Red!”—vibrant, deep, energetic. On stage or elsewhere, creativity is Yuta’s lifeblood, coursing through him and moving him to all kinds of expression: photography, painting, dance.  Of the first, Yuta loves the exploration involved in both taking pictures and developing them, hours in the darkroom in meticulous attention to the image rising through the liquid towards its creator, for us to enjoy on gallery walls or between the pages of El Archivero. Of the second, he dwells in the diverse possibilities of portraiture, admires Di Chirico, aims for perfection. Of the last, the liquid-and-steel Yuta has made of himself a local icon for whom applause goes loud and long, his popping, his locking, his tour jetes, his embrace of modern, jazz, ballet as a complement to his street-dancing style all showcasing his physical gifts of balance, precision, and power transformed by technique into grace. Yuta loves the thrum and rattle of the urban landscape, and his work here often connects this bucolic environment with it—his multi-layered abstract paintings, his photos of Tokyo. Yet he has not spent his time here yearning for some elsewhere; rather, he’s joined in all that makes this school special: from riding Gymkhana to opening up discussion in HR&S circles to backpacking to hitching up and driving the combined ton of Pancho and Pedro. In finding his own rhythm within Thacher’s, he has made himself at home and a home here. Yuta’s found in this community a sympathetic and appreciative response to his uniqueness, his insight, and the warmth and honesty that mark his every interaction. He’s got a lock on that.

Alexander Shohei Kaneko
Kate’s Petruchio, Hugo’s Jean Valjean, Winnie’s Tommy, Zerbinette’s Leander, one of  Peter Pan’s Lost Boys—and our resident heart-throb troubadour. How can anyone with Alex’s multiplicity and depth of talent—singing, songwriting, philosophizing, acting in serious and comic productions, writing top-of-the-line papers on the Cold War or discoursing on Hegel, reading so carefully as to tap into deep recall and broad application much, much later –how can he be so unpretentious, so humble? Maybe it’s because Alex so values the communal (forget making chords with your mouth) and takes his greatest pride and pleasure in plugging others into the current of energy and fun that electrifies collaborative effort on stage. In relative importance to him, marquee role status is beat out by the camaraderie of the green room during make-up, or singing with Chamber, or counseling younger students in LP, or rounding up schoolmates from all classes for the Spring Sing he premiered a year ago, wrote anew, and opened the curtains on again this May. Giving and innovative, bright as a follow-spot in a pitch-black theater, Alex approaches everything he does from an uncommonly thoughtful and always novel perspective. His salutary reach is wide—from Ojai clear to Thailand and Japan—as he demonstrates to all crowded ‘round how to live a purposeful and happy life: make the music inside of you, and others will come to your doorstep, to listen, to enjoy, to take as inspiration for their own creative adventures. In this way, Alex knows just what makes the world go ‘round—not in gathering hearts to break but in opening up your own. Will you keep in touch, Alex? We hope, we hope, we hope you do.

Logan Noah Kroloff
Hear that deep line of music, underneath all the other instruments? See that faraway look in the player’s eyes? That’s Logan tapping into the great music of the spheres, or maybe just silently conversing with his muse. Logan’s style (often barefoot) is all his own, and everyone in his orbit values the paradoxes he represents: he’s independent yet closely allied with others, mellow yet highly focused. A teacher this year called Logan “smarter than heck, the quickest study I’ve ever worked with.” Calculus, psychology, music theory, all the sciences, but especially physics—faculty in every department agree that Logan reads with true insight, retains information encyclopedically, analyzes as naturally as taking breath, and writes with subtlety and flair.  Fluid intelligence also swings with prodigious musical gifts in this lad—flourishing in every possible genre (jazz, rock, madrigals, contemporary, Broadway musicals, eclectic) on string bass, electric bass, trombone, keyboard, or with voice, solo or ensemble, performed on every real and makeshift stage on campus—including the Head of School’s kitchen.  When he’s not studying, warbling, plucking strings, tickling the ivories, or enticing others to fling themselves into the Spring Sing tradition he helped to found, Logan is on cue elsewhere: driving the Team, riding, hiking, or running cross-country. He took to Thacher’s courses and California’s mountain trails like a sleek sled-dog bred to the Iditarod (sans snow), breaking the School’s trans-Sierra record with 80 miles in five days. The best part? Logan is exactly the company you want to keep: sweet-natured, seriously solicitous when he inquires how you are, a great sounding board, infinitely kind—and as reliable as the North Star on the Alaskan state flag.

Amber Rose Lakin
Amber’s become an ace at the triage that Thacher life demands—figuring out what to let go of when there isn’t enough time for everything. Except that she spins it differently, becoming a sort of expert chef at the range, turning up the heat in front (a championship basketball game against Cate, a photo essay), and simmering something else on the back burner (an English essay or Biology project) until she can give it more flame. Masterful. Teachers began using superlatives for Amber as a student four years ago: perspicacious, insightful, voracious, exemplary, positive—now, having run out, they’re pretty much reduced to “ditto.” Students who share the classroom or lab with Amber can trust that their exploration will be enriched by paddling next to this scholar. With her Casa chicks, Amber is all mother hen, clucking them ‘round for advice, counsel, and hugs, and using her bark—“guau-guau”—only to get them to pick up or turn out their lights. As for her bite, she saves it for action on the court or field. Fearless about grueling practices and hard rubber balls zooming at her, seemingly oblivious to pain and unflusterable, savvy, skilled, prepared, Amber’s got athleticism from the marrow out, and her impact is visible in every game. “I can ask Amber to do anything, and she’ll do it, no complaint,” says a coach. Out of uniform, Amber has coached girls in her hometown and has served as a long-time volunteer at Head Start, her heartstrings tied inextricably to the preschoolers who adore her. Countless families have had their first glimpse of Thacher on a tour with Amber; her warmth and exuberance makes their next step a done deal. Amber may be the Ventura Star, but we’re proud to call her ours, too.

Douglas Smith Land
By nature or by nurture or by both, Douglas has the spirit of service stirring potently in him: intuiting a need before it manifests, he hops up to help. Tutoring grade-schoolers here in Ojai or across the border in rural Mexico, building houses, pulling weeds at a local organic farm, playing with SmartStart kids, or counseling 9th grade boys—Douglas organizes and then galvanizes others to their own slice of this pie. He’s a big brother to many, inclusive and open, generous with his time, and as a friend wrote, “absolutely genuine in all of his interactions—the best friend you could ask for.”  All within Douglas’s circle of light benefit from his clear, ringing example of moral goodness, even as they are warmed by his kindness. Douglas is true to himself, following his instincts with justifiable good reason: they lead him to predictably elevating places, from which he can lend a hand to the next person below—someone faltering on the trail to the Cottonwood Lakes, or climbing onto the Emerson, or coming up the stairs from the tennis courts—or into the PAC rafters, where Douglas once scampered to grab a fly-line stuck in the track. Teachers value what Douglas brings through their classroom doors: an intellect that appreciates both the bold and the nuanced, attention to the details and high retention of them, a wide embrace of many subjects and viewpoints. Concert and theater-goers treasure what he brings to the stage: a simply beautiful voice—as tenor or musical actor. In the whole of his Thacher life, Douglas is, in a friend’s words, “a perfect blend of intelligence, humility, humor, and kindness.” (And his eye on the world, through photography: impeccable.) Using his these attributes to help others sharpen theirs, Doug is the gift that’s paid forward.

Victoria Christine Lowe
Let’s start at the very beginning—for Victoria and us, it was on the Pergola, a decade ago, when her brother was a student here. A younger version of this Victoria strode bravely out onto her first Thacher stage, and when the music started, she danced. And danced. And kept on dancing. If it is possible, we’re now more awestruck than ever, having witnessed the non-dancing facets of Victoria, too: her growth as a student bent on self-improvement and connections to big ideas, her willingness to trade a Bronx zoo pony for gymkhana and horse-camping steeds along the way, her energy on the basketball court, her unfailing dedication to her friends, and her unqualified acceptance of both meaningful and quotidian work of dorm leadership. As one faculty member put it, “Victoria sees challenge, and walks right into it—and stays true to the person she wants to be.” Yet while Victoria has most certainly woven herself into every corner of this community’s fabric as a bright and strong thread, we cannot help but return to the dance. Versatile and technically proficient in ballet, jazz, modern, and hip-hop, Victoria uses this art as language, a personal invitation into her world of mind and emotion. It’s an ocean of soulfulness in which she goes beyond wading to submerge, then rise, buoyed on the pleasure of pure, expressive movement, lifted above the waves to see to the curve of the earth.  The exclamation from one faculty member after seeing Victoria’s Senior Exhibition—“Such strength and beauty—and talent!”—was on everyone’s lips. Exemplary internal strength and commitment to her Thacher family and the one a continent away. Rightful confidence. Moral soundness. Gratefulness for the life she has. Deep authenticity. Young wisdom. Amazing grace.

Adriana Meza
Rallying the novitiates for another piece of the Golden Trout trek when it seems like only about a nine months ago, you, too couldn’t imagine the fun outweighing the terrors in this esoteric activity? When you’re as steady as Adriana, as persistent, strong, and positive, and when you’ve proven your mettle in your own Thacher years, you know you’ll get them safely to camp, even if it means sacrificing some of your own comfort. “No matter what, I never doubt she’ll be there,” attested a buddy. Partly, Adriana’s personal qualities come from her vision: while she appreciates what every day opens to her, she also sees to a future that often requires dig-deep persistence. In this, Adriana is all sinew and strength, pledging herself headlong to whatever the challenge, reaching out at every pass for the brass ring until it’s firmly in her grasp. Her enthusiasm gives legs to her innate intelligence, and while she’ll never crow about it, Adriana has taken on the most advanced of courses and has emerged with the kind of success that comes from Herculean self-discipline. Adriana packs that ambition and assertiveness into her duffle, then slings it over her shoulder with tough-as-nails determination when she marches down to the soccer or lacrosse field. There, she has meteored from beginner to skilled on the defensive end, according to her coach,  “a beast on the field—just try to knock her down.” But it’s never about Adriana. She is selfless, kind to the core. Add endlessly good-humored and bubbly. Here’s the equation: big plans divided by big smile + big spirit = posibilidades a la 'n'. That’s infinite possibilities.

Holden Espley Miller
So, there’s The Force and then there’s the force of Holden. By this, we mean the energy that leaps synapse to synapse, that ties a book he’s reading off-syllabus to the one that’s the Room E ticket, that can cook up stew of movies, music, philosophy and fun for good conversation faster than you can say, “Voodoo.”  Adding clever to smart (throw some witty and widely knowledgeable in there, too), Holden conjures and creates, an unseen, internal exigency taking him down paths to ideas he’s happy to haul back for a one-on-one conversation or a class discussion. He works well independently and takes pride in original thought and effective implementation (a robot, a ripper short story, an issue of The Notes, his own Jedi costume)—but he also plays well with others, to those others’ edification and fun. Three springs ago, Old George enjoyed Holden’s company enough to lope him handily to a silver dollar, and since before that, the members of the football and baseball squads have counted on his positiveness, relentless devotion to hard work, and commitment to the concept of team, especially during the inevitable downs-and-ups of most seasons. When we think of the totality of Holden, though, it’s inevitable that “Take me out to the ballgame” morphs to “In a galaxy far, far away.” His stellar Senior Exhibition was lived-in and loved, and Holden approached it and shared it with what a faculty member termed “palpable passion. It was funny without being silly, thorough, intelligent, and highly creative.”  Years from this day, if there’s ever a disturbance in the Force, we’ll know whose name to call, trusting Holden to dust off that light saber—or sharpen that crocodile tooth—and spring to save us.

Annie Sawyer Mulligan
A fearless quarterhorse racing through the stakes—no it’s not Guerrerro, but Annie, meandering through campus and skillfully maneuvering the twists, turns and opportunities that fall in her path.  If Guerrerro represents unbridled speed and courage, and Colby, a nurturing approach to the world, these two horses, Annie’s steadfast steeds these last few years, capture well her multi-faceted skills and strengths in everything she takes on.  Whether it’s breaking the Birangle school record, becoming Reserve Champion at the Tri-School Gymkhana, charging out and defending the Toads’ soccer goal, writing a creative Spanish story in the style of Laura Esquiel, or co-leading the Blue Team to a dramatic Gymkhana upset, Annie is the fierce lioness you want on your team.  As one admirer comments, “I can only speak of the trepidation and awe I felt every time I watched her ride and handle her horse.  Her eyes sparkle in the speed of the race; she never holds back.”  With her fearlessness comes a deep sensitivity for others, as she meets the excited cheers of Hayden and Hiram for a babysitting gig, organizes a clothing drive for the homeless, works at a women’s shelter, or takes the time to guide a younger student on campus.  A faculty member wrote, “She shows true warmth and kindness, always.”  She will consistently rise to any challenge once she sets her mind to it but will simultaneously work to encompass the well-being of all those engaged with her in the moment.  Whether it’s challenging perceptions about hip-hop music, navigating downed trees on a Sespe mountainside, or caring for the child or friend who needs comfort, Annie’s coursing “blue” blood takes her where she needs to be and the rest of us right along with her.  It’s been a wonder-full ride.

John Clinton Williams Neville
It might be just that he’s tall and lanky, but John carries a bit of the quixotic in him. Just when we’re feeling the weight of the banal, the grind of the daily, John’s idealism and independent spirit—or just the sight of him slipper-sliding hurriedly to class—lifts us to where we can breathe fresh air: as Einstein theorizing at the Lapin Agile or in an announcement on recycling lost-and-found clothing or via a senior quotation reminding us of the difference between getting what you want and getting what you need. In these and many other ways, John releases himself and us from business-as-usual. Yet he’s also got his feet on the ground—or, in the case when he’s climbing, at least in a toehold, skillfully set. Insight, inquisitiveness, and imagination are the well-spring for all John does, and while science and technology play to his natural strengths, his contributions run from one subject to the next, like extension cords strung together.  “He is never,” says a teacher, “short on provocative ideas.” John animates any and all groups he’s part of, all over this campus, with his dry and self-deprecating sense of humor. And he’s in charge: Without a glance at his notes, and in that slow-drawling basso profundo voice, John methodically explains how The Bauhaus intersects with IKEA, or gently instructs a 9^th grade boy in the subtleties of dorm clean-up or the Honor Code. A closed door opens; a complicated topic becomes accessible. More typically, though, John’s in the tech booth or behind a mixer, making others look and sound their best. It is, in toto, his special magic.

Ethan Scott Nonomura
Ethan began knitting himself into this community the second he stepped onto campus as a sophomore, not as much by the activities he joined or spearheaded but more, by the quality of his character. After miles on the trail, he looks for what needs taking care of before heading to a sun-warmed boulder. At a cross-country meet, he asks others if they’re clear on the course’s zigs and zags, and can I get you some water? In classes, east coast or west, he seeks idea exchange, the give-and-take that broadens and deepens everyone’s understanding, not to show-boat his own considerable braininess.  He curries the draft horse before tending to himself. Ethan is, says a teacher, “one of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever been around—completely tuned into what’s going on and what difference he can make in someone’s day.” Another: “He’s a teacher, an organizer, a catalyst for the good.” Unapologetically passionate about conservation ethics and motivated 100% internally, Ethan follows thought with deeds, and the tune he plays spurs others to right action—a beneficent Pied Piper. Half-way is not in Ethan’s lexicon: a conceptual greenhouse goes from blueprint to realization, training to run varsity means three hundred miles in three months, a course load can nearly exceed the number of periods in a day—and while you’re at it, memorize that Chamber Singers piece—the one in Italian—between Calc and Spanish. Unmitigated love of learning and of seeing how it can all turn out when you stay responsive, responsible, and focused—these are at Ethan’s center. He embodies what journalist and outdoorsman Paul McHugh defined as intelligence—“beyond mental computation. . . the ability to move one’s body skillfully through all elements of our environment.”  Wind, fire, air, earth, Ethan.

Shirin Nury
Whoever invented the concept of ‘charisma’ must have been planning on Shirin’s showing up at some point to demonstrate it. All are filings to her magnet, admiring her empathy and compassion, her sky-high energy, her ability to assure you that you’re the only one who matters right now. Shirin uses her off-the-charts EQ to set a positive tone in every group, dorms to dining room, on field and track, to the homeless shelter in Ojai where she serves up vittles and kindness. A friend’s story: “Once, I asked Shirin why she laughs at things she doesn't necessarily find funny.  She said that she didn't know. I do: It’s for the same reason she listens to everyone's problems, tells them they ‘rock’: she loves to see others happy.” Shirin believes in her email signature line, Dumbledore’s assertion: “Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." Her hand’s always on that switch, which floods the room with optimism and hope. “She sees the best in others,” says another aficionada. Sincerely open-minded, honestly curious about classmates’ perspectives and opinions, a genuine seeker, Shirin is a natural seminar circles, where she generously shares her own interpretations then pointedly, helpfully inquires about yours. She integrates ideas with ease, and has the second sight of someone who can stand back to appreciate how each detail coalesces with others to form the big picture. We’d call her amazing, except that she’s got exclusive dibsies on that word. “I feel like Shirin’s been here for four years,” said one teacher, looking back on these barely two. The implication is clear: we all wish she had been.

William Ernst Oberndorf
Two words that many Thacher sports teams Thacher shout just before breaking from the huddle into action on court or field are also Will’s motto: “Hard work!” He vivifies the principle daily and, in doing so, ardently fulfills what our founder felt was a bedrock value in building a satisfying life. This is true in his academics, where he prepares with seriousness and resolve so that he can contribute to profitable and productive discussion or dissection. Everyone benefits, in the fruitfulness of the moment and in the polished, knowledgeable example Will unpretentiously provides. Will is creative and resourceful: How about Hamlet’s “To be or not to be” in the voice of Holden Caulfield? Or a fresh take on Warren Buffet’s advice to buy stock in European companies? Coaches and camping trip leaders confirm what teachers know when they extol these same qualities—and to the list they add strong and giving. Skilled and highly tuned physically, Will is also attuned: actively on the lookout for anyone who needs his friendly encouragement or guidance, he routinely sets aside personal needs in order to serve. Respect and admiration inevitably follow.  As one teammate said, “More than any other captain I’ve had here, Obie makes an effort to lead, to give us guidance and inspiration when we need it.” And while Will’s “this one’s for you” feet may move like a jackrabbit’s on the tennis court, soccer pitch, football field, when it comes to the ethical, they are planted fast and firm. We may be jittery about the dollar against the Euro, but of Will’s going out into the world beyond Thacher, we are nothing but supremely confident. Forget money in the mattress: this guy’s the sure-bet investment.

Lindsay Delano Oliver
Although Lindsay can surely see the forest for the trees, she appreciates each singular part of the grove, too. (How she will defend it is for Newsweek or Time Magazine to chronicle once her mark’s made.) Lindsay looks for the good—no, the fantastic—in everything and everyone, standing in the slants of sunshine wherever she can and inviting you to join her. Her teachers praise her perceptiveness and her commitment to the ideas of their courses, to the application of concepts. Lindsay’s urge is never merely to check off the boxes, but rather to extend her understanding. Hands-on means mind’s-on for Lindsay, and her intellectual fire burns brightest when she frees what’s on the page onto the wider world’s stage, carbon footprints overlaid on daily action and then, she hopes, erased. Forest-for-the-trees becomes herd-for-the-horses in Lindsay’s favorite and favored extracurricular pursuit. There, riding western and English, on trails and in arenas, Lindsay’s plain smitten. She loves all the sensations that come with being close to horses, reveling in a whinnied morning hello, a suede muzzle-nuzzle, the feel of raw speed or contained power under her skilled seat. Give Lindsay the likes of Bell or Russell, 85 or Delight, and see her patience and confidence calm the beast, directing both her own energy and his towards a successful run into and out of the keyhole or over the fences. That she invests the same tireless enthusiasm on volleyball court or to El Archivero and Indoor Committee events is all to the benefit of this little spot on earth. But now, we’ll grant, she’s chomping at the bit to get going in the big out there—for her, no waitin’ for the world to change.

Si-Hyun “Sean” Park
“Working with Sean,” wrote a faculty advisor, “has been a dream.” Anyone who has taught, coached, or lived with Sean would agree, but to prove it, specifics.  Sean has the strength and stratagems of a tiger where his academics are concerned: he hearkens to teacher’s suggestions respectfully and fast, desiring success and comprehension not only in those subjects in which he’s gifted—math and science—but across the curriculum. And he’ll burn the midnight oil to secure that understanding. Sean is warm, his manner modest and gently inviting: in a history discussion, he carries the conversation with his sense of humor and kindness as much as by his knowledge, and Upper School Room #3 is rarely empty of section-mates and other friends. He’s mature and reliably responsible, even when the going gets difficult or tricky: noting that some unsavory camp chore needs doing, he’s on the job, or seeing that a peer is struggling, he finds the objectivity and fortitude to do what’s best and what’s right. Sean’s one-foot-in-front-of-the-other perseverance conquers any frustrations. Although he’s made a difference on the cross-country and tennis teams, Sean’s heart beats fastest when he ties up his cleats and heads to the soccer pitch. His talents traverse the field, from mid-field to striker, combining with dynamic energy and a work rate to help win not just games, but also the admiration of teammates and the opposition. It was with confidence, adaptability, and trust that Sean took a calculated leap into this school and community. It is with respect and fondness that we say our farewells. We know he’ll be strong on the trail away from Thacher because we’ve been seeing that strength for three years.

William Per Gustaf Peterson
Not many of us can boast a geological feature with our name on it, but, then again, we’re not WillyPete, and we didn’t schuss down an unnamed Sierra couloir to earn the honor. (And, by the way, William wouldn’t boast.) It is by doing that William makes his mark, even when he leaves only footprints. In every academic setting, said one faculty member, “He makes the class happen in the right way: he’s always prepared, always intellectually curious.” Although external validation can’t be helped—placing in the regional Chemistry Olympiad or winning an annual math competition at a local college—the powerfully intellectual, widely read William is motivated intrinsically as he climbs from the known to the new, one carefully considered hand-hold at a time. And he likes it best when there’s someone else en debate or “on belay.”  One teacher called his interactions with William consistently “bilateral opportunities for growth.” The personal qualities William applies to philosophical discourse and conceptual treasure hunts—his even-temperedness and affability—are the hallmarks of the work he does constantly behind-the-scenes: endlessly orchestrating light and sound for dances, lectures, announcements, indoor and outdoor movies, concerts, and plays, and dorm open houses. William gleefully trades headphones and miles of cords for a helmet and ropes when he heads into the landscape he loves most: the vertical and the vertiginous, rock walls from California to Wyoming to Washington to Italy that invite him and his expertise. William’s RSVP is immediate and enthusiastic, and he brings others along for the sweat, the smiles, the sheer exhilaration of the climb.

Lucy Kathryn Phillips
No one can get through a list of descriptors for Lucy without hitting the word “fun” or “funny.”  Her special wit, quick-as-a-fox, arises from a natural intelligence and the kind of perception that takes in the slightest flicker at the peripheral edge.  Even in the midst of bad news—say, the Sixth Extinction we’re on the brink of—she finds the humor (the Powerpoint won’t quite cooperate) and the hope (scarlet macaws). Lucy has an ability, sometimes recessive in teenagers, to share her opinions with persuasiveness and confidence while simultaneously tuning in to yours. She’s organized and motivated in everything she takes on and in every venue: from a debate in US History to research on global conservation efforts or an essay in English to an oral exam in advanced Chinese, from singing and dancing around Neverland to tending bar in Paris, from prime-time hoops or lacrosse action to guiding a younger student to the Health Center at midnight, from producing a blue-ribbon dorm open house announcement film to performing roadside on the last day of an Extra Day Trip to make money for milkshakes. Clear that beauty and accuracy are inextricably allied, Lucy does not miss a trick—or a treat, for that matter: she’s always paying attention, shaking the trees for new ways into her understanding of whatever she’s piled on her plate. And in her mailbox: Vogue and National Geographic. As a pal wrote, “She is the friend who can be everything.” Lucy’s evolutionary attributes are these: creativity, curiosity, smarts, adaptability, humility, comic timing. We’re pretty sure that the last will either save the planet or make sure we go down laughing so hard our sides hurt.

McKinsey Mason Pillsbury
For Max, using each moment at Thacher to “build. . . more stately mansions” is a matter of personal pride. Attentive to how every choice of lumber and nail, every cut and joinery will shape the whole structure, he moves through his days with precision, thoughtfulness, and constancy. Max tries to see people and situations from many perspectives, working to honor each one, even as he remains clear and faithful to concepts that were his patrimony: honor, fairness, kindness and truth. Intelligence, desire for understanding, the urge for excellence, unfiltered gladness in the Aha! moment in a chemistry copper lab or on a culminating presentation on Nepal—what he brings to bear to his academic world is rivaled only by his reverence for community. Max is unafraid to say he loves this school, its traditions, its values and ethics, the multigenerational diversity of people choosing to live and study here, and he toils ceaselessly to ensure its endurance.  At the backstop or on Sespe trails, Max readies for the long haul, knowing that “Going for Water” will take on new meanings with accrued experience, but appreciating those new layers. When three best friends (and not a sugar candy among them) ventured off on their long ride home last year, and Max learned that much of mid-coast California was rooting for them as news spread down one valley and up another, he was amazed. We weren’t, accustomed as we are to seeing his daring ideas put into action. We’ll close with Frost—no surprise there, either—and a definition of home as “something you somehow haven’t to deserve.” Max, True-Blue and Odie-Kalody, can leave with the assurance that, every step of the way, he has made his place at this table.

Maya Prescott Reddy
Maya brought her finest gifts—an artful creativity, an essential optimism and an understated feistiness—through Thacher’s stone pillars as a 9th grader. Unafraid of  self-scrutiny and reinvention, she graduates today with a secure idea of who she is and how her strengths might influence people, places, and even institutions in her future. Here, Maya has used her quick mind and remarkable ability to concentrate as the keys to unlock doors she finds inviting, oiling the works with her highly evolved sense of organization. She gets into rooms that invite stopping for awhile: the environmental sciences and psychology, literature and writing. With seminar classmates or her close friends, she fuels the discussion not only with the kind of strongly held opinions that come from thorough preparation, careful observation, and insight, but also by her willingness to rethink an issue, take apart her initial view, and then pull everyone up to a higher rung on the ladder to a more enlightened, more comprehensive and multi-faceted understanding. Her range is wide: she questions how our personal daily choices impact the health of our oceans as fervently and cogently as she examines what goes on of cultural importance in behind-the-scenes Bollywood. Maya’s bountiful expressiveness moves others: a personal essay on the complexities, frustrations, and rewards of sibling relationships, a pitch for the power and purpose of yoga as an on-going afternoon activity, a knitted blanket for Charlie, a way of giving admission tours that makes visitors feel as if she’s welcomed them right into the clan—in these ways, Maya persuades by articulate, measured means. On Lake Sonoma as in her life, she moves her boat over still morning waters or through chop, getting herself safely to the other shore.

Tatyana Leonidovna Rem
Tatyana, Tat, TRem, Totty—this nickname panoply is directly proportional to the affection and respect in which so many hold this young woman. Her family’s road to our doorstep—from North Korea through Kazakhstan to Los Angeles and finally Ojai—is the stuff of novels, and Tatyana’s story has surely been informed by inherited qualities: fortitude, determination, enthusiasm, optimism, linguistic adaptability, and what Nobel Laureate Andrei Sakarov called “mental set.”  On her way through Thacher, Tatyana has kept steadfast good-naturedness at her side as she’s pushed her limits, even as she has impressed her teachers with her ability to synthesize much information and turn it around into powerful show-and-tell. Best example: her Senior Exhibition that linked sociology, psychology, human geography, and world history in a college-level investigation of ethnogenesis. One of her admirers wrote, “She has a natural ability to get at the subtext, understanding characters at the greatest possible depth.” Another part of Tatyana’s big brain lights up for artistic pursuits: she has an exquisitely keen eye for photography, a talent for capturing complex and compelling compositions. That eye can expertly trace a volleyball’s or soccer ball’s trajectory so that she can get her hands or feet on it—all for the Toads. This sounds serious—but Tatyana has a sense of humor sometimes overt, sometimes sly: on a camping trip, laughing hard at her own attempts to swim a horse, or handing the Head of School a donut hole with her thumbprint firmly pressed into it. Tatyana explained to an enthralled audience that with the passionary impulse, “only the capable and the strong endure.  You need durability, resistance, energy, intelligence, and education.” Tatyana’s too modest to say it, but she describes herself—and the girl we will miss.

Katherine Anne Sawyer
The multifarious roles Annie’s played on four years of Thacher stages bespeak the breadth and depth of her talent—and they reflect some of Annie’s choicest qualities: in Liza, the Maid who hitches a ride to Neverland, Annie’s industriousness, musicality, organizational skill, and ability to uplift. In Snoopy’s Blanket, good humor and spatial intelligence. In Thomasina Coverly, precocity and brainpower to understand the second law of thermodynamics and chaos theory. In Suzanne, sophistication and élan. In the Apartheid journalist Lynne, her expansive creativity and passion for social justice. In Fantine, self-sacrifice and loyalty—and, we can’t help but add—an ability to sing while dying, over and over, each time believably. Annie is what’s known in show biz as a triple threat: actress, singer, and dancer.  In the academic biz, she is more like a septuple threat, if you count the number of courses she characteristically piles in her cart. The classrooms and labs she’s in brighten with the same qualities (well, except for the dying part), plus she questions and probes and elevates the whole operation, as teachers in every academic department and classmates attest. Beyond this, “in the hardest times,” writes a friend, “Annie always manages to be there for you—and she withholds making judgments about others without truly getting to know them first.”  Adds another, “She gives the best advice around.” Giving by nature, Annie has left her impress where people needed her heart and her unflinching hands: a convalescent hospital in Ojai, an orphanage in Mexico, a FEMA trailer park in Baton Rouge, a township in South Africa. It’s no long, lonesome road she walks; it’s one crowded with people who are fortunate in her company, as we have been these four years.

Natalie Kathleen Selzer
What? Natalie’s a day student? Who’da known, given her ubiquitousness on campus? (Actually, we thought she’d turned that round table in the Library into a mini-dorm.)
Natalie is busier than a bee in a springtime Ojai orange grove, and as purposeful: she tends to classes, her basketball and track teammates, the Casa girls, her friends, the homeless of Ojai, middle school kids at the public library and the youngsters at La Mision, or the personal muse who inspires her stunning fiction writing. Four years ago, Natalie happily took Thacher as her second home-not-too-far-away-from-home. Mind, heart, soul, and flip-flops, she has been fully present each day for each step of the way. Without any of the ostensible stress that can bedevil and derail the best of us, Natalie is utterly imperturbable, methodical, and exceptionally thorough. No short-cuts for Nat: she reads the books she’s assigned from cover to cover, preparing religiously, taking her nuanced learning and detailed interpretations to literature discussion circles, psychology projects, EnviSci indoors and out. For Nat, the welcome mat’s out everywhere. “Every comment she makes helps us see more,” said a teacher. Better still: she is attentive to what her fellow sojourners have to offer, understanding that community building depends on give-and-take—and give again. Natalie is vested and open to every growth opportunity: a track event she’s never run or an unfamiliar, switchbacking trail along Big Sur or the challenge of an open house video announcement, her response is enthusiastic and simple: “OK. What do I do?”  So now for our question right back at you, Nat, now that you’re heading off to make another home unequivocally your own: “OK. What do we do?”

Madeleine Gabrielle Sowash
If you’re scouting for someone whose lead is worth following, look to Maddi. She doesn’t skimp in any part of her life here: treating the whole curriculum as if it’s a three-page a la carte menu with not a single item she doesn’t want to ingest; charging onto the volleyball court, loaded for bear (or ram), and ready to block and kill for every point; coercing as frequently as she counsels amid denizens of the Courts; collecting pennies on behalf of mothers-2-mothers or organizing yet another fund-raiser so that Amnesty International can do its good work where Maddi can’t get—yet. Maddi sets a high standard and adds an all-or-nothing approach, typically meeting it, here at Thacher and abroad at India’s Woodstock School, which she stormed for a semester last year. “She’s the most on-top-of-it, dependable, responsible person I know,” declared a classmate. Adept at both the humanities and hard sciences and comfortable cavorting in both, Maddi is “a demon when it comes to researching and then to synthesizing her learning,” says one teacher, “someone others seek when they’re having trouble with a concept,” chimes in another. She sees with unusual acuity, noting differences and similarities at the symbolic level, then inquiring even further. She keeps those eyes wide open, whether or not they come to rest on something disturbing or disheartening—the crisis in Darfur or the problems at Guantanamo Bay. Maddi always aims to be part of the solution, and she mixes the calm with the bold in seeking a cure for this ill or that social injustice. Her voice has the timbre of rightful confidence tempered by perspective, and we expect to hear it ringing out long after she heads out these gates.

Barrie Kathryn Sterling
Was Barrie born to dance? Or to paint and draw? To photograph? Or to publish papers in physics? If her four years at Thacher are indication, she was born to all of it and more. “Vast” describes both her intelligence and her artistry, and gets at the esteem in which we hold her, we who’ve stood entranced before her artwork or stunned in the seats of the PAC. While we could laud her lithe mind and its ability to wrap around relativity or Joseph Conrad with equal flexibility, we’d as soon spend our time following Barrie into the places where her prodigious creativity generates one breathtaking piece after another: the art studio, where a woman’s muscular back comes into three-dimensional relief made of light and shadow under Barrie’s expert brush; to wherever she’s shooting pictures to see her find the exceptional in the everyday, then to the darkroom where her sense of visual organization moves her photographs beyond the obvious to a different universe altogether. Final stop is the dance studio or stage, her métier and her principality. There, Barrie’s artist’s eye informs every movement, fluid and expressive, strong and confident; she interprets music with originality and nuance.  Her teacher puts it clearly: “Barrie learns movement phases quickly and accurately, but more, she understands line and shape in a way that’s impossible to teach.” She’s a natural, authoritative stage presence in musical theater, too, on the Shrew’s sister’s cheerleading squad or among the ladies-of-the-night and revolutionaries of Les Miserables. What Barrie leaves behind—an oeuvre that includes all of this and many die-hard friends—she can be backwards-and-in-high-heels proud.

Moizeé Simone Stewart
It was a fair and fortuitous wind, insistent as a Tobago breeze, which brought Moizeé to this school at just the moment it did. She was ready for all that Thacher had to offer: desks circled in classrooms awaiting her insight, steadiness, and perceptivity, indoor and outdoor basketball courts and a spanking new track awaiting her imprint, a photo lab in which she’d soon make marvelous magic in black and white and gray; spaces to lift her voice in song, and other young, vibrant minds awaiting connection with hers, light attracting light. Moizeé strode in with an unusual, paradoxical amalgam of serenity and eagerness, and we have watched her move in that way for four years: through Shakespeare and McBride, the Cold War and the history of Cuban dance, through rescue races and Condor League Championship basketball seasons, concerts grand and intimate—all with extraordinary calm and consistency. Even at her most intense—and in the paint, she certainly can be—Moizeé soothes rather than agitates, centering her energies to great effect. Yet she moves others: through her writing—a memoir honoring her grandfather, or one about a moment of convulsive disappointment—and through her photography. When she chronicled A Day in the Life at Thacher or a Parisian pilgrimage, she proved herself a marvelous visual storyteller, weaving people, place, and activity together in a way that made us come close, leaning in towards the essential la alegría de vivir that lies just underneath the composure. What exactly Moizeé will “bring forth on this planet” we cannot say, but this we know: it will be guided by a lively creativity, enriched by family and faith, and informed by a tranquility that allows for gratitude, expressed without hesitation. To that, and to Moizeé, we say, “Yes.”

William Timothy George Sturgeon
Will keeps his options open and his mind’s doors flung wide: “He has a rare quality,” says one teacher, “to reconsider his opinions and perceptions when interesting and sound new evidence comes his way.”  This sort of suppleness merges with a craving to broaden his outlook, and Will’s world-view and understanding are, like the universe, constantly expanding. Will is “a listener and a doer,” invested in positive outcomes even as he’s obviously loving the journey towards the goal—a cohesive dorm section, a comprehensive lab write-up in Environmental Science, a Half-Dome climb, a cogent, well proven thesis in an English essay, a new, original CD. His unaffected personal style attracts with rock star allure, mostly because it combines the mellotron with the lively: he’s both beloved and respected for this distinctive quality. And he’s unassuming, despite piles of empirical evidence that would give him big-time bragging rights: Will is one of Thacher’s most accomplished musicians, immensely talented, an instrumental and vocal omnivore. You never know where to look for this gifted guy when the stage curtains part: behind the drums or on the bongos or water bottle, at the keyboard, on the guitar or mandolin or melodica, singing ensemble, duo, or solo, harmony or lead line. He infuses any sonic landscape with color and texture: as he grins his pleasure in making the music, we reflect it right back. The cycle goes on and on, creating an upward spiral that packs more punch than a great typhoon, that’s bigger than the horn of any antique Victrola, and more lasting than the final note of “This Place” held nearly to infinity. We’ll go on doin’ the wave for a long, long time.

Christopher Phillip Alexander Thomas
From his first strong handshake at the start of the admission process nearly five years ago, Chris has dazzled us with his confidence, poise, and promise—and his trademark million-dollar smile. “He’s sharp as a tack,” said one of his senior year teachers. Moreover, Chris has come into his intellectual self here in subjects from psychology to mathematics to the—ahem—shall we say “secret” world of insects, and he’s discovered the surefire link between input and outcome. That’s a relationship Chris has known all along in his sports pursuits, where his response to challenge on the defensive end of the football or lacrosse field, or on the business end of the basketball court is as automatic as breathing: go for the gold, period. Raw athletic talent, spatial smarts, the strategic impulse, and selflessness go a long way towards a team’s success, but it’s Chris’s fierce, all-star-all-hustle-all-the-time work rate that clinches the respect and reverence in which teammates, coaches, and even opponents hold him—and that created some of the past four years’ most thrilling and memorable competitions. Trusted as a friend, valued as a leader from his corner of Upper School throughout the rest of the campus, Chris balances charm and amiability with a mature understanding of limits—the perfect touch on the reins for optimum performance over the long haul. One dorm faculty member said, “Chris leads without talking, by simply how he carries himself.”  When he’s no longer here to watch, we’ll settle for the after-image Chris leaves behind: standing tall, not just looking good, but being it, having delivered fully on every part of that promise we saw at the start.

Griffin Eugene Triplett
Griffin once said that you can’t always look to life to be your teacher: “Sometimes, the teacher has to be you.”  This is accurate indication of how thoroughly Griffin has taken the wheel of his own education. He’s grown into sophistication and maturity as he’s unlatched gates to his learning, moving through his courses with maturity and responsibility, being fully present to absorb all he can by dint of mental attentiveness, mental toughness, and active participation in the conversation. Conceptual understanding clicks in, like a Louisville slugger connecting for a line-drive.  Griffin engages the same qualities, as well plain-and-simple kinesthetic talent, in the sports he loves and finds so much success in: football, basketball, and baseball. Teammates logically look to him as an indisputable leader in fair play and in his give-all approach to practice and competition. Griffin always does what he does for team, reveling in the collaborative, clear-sighted that the sum is greater than the parts. He has mentoring in his bones: a counselor in title since he was barely in double-digits, he has made an art of it here, putting uncommon common sense and reliably good judgment to work. He wins the respect of boys both younger and his own age because he combines laughter with seriousness, adventurousness with appropriate limits, and laces it all up with what a faculty fellow camper called “unbelievable maturity.”  “If I had to describe him in one word, it would be real,” said a friend. Griffin’s actions—so off-the-cuff natural—make him very nearly a colleague.  Don’t look to Griffin for fill-the-sky fireworks, unless you’re at his SrEx: he’s more like a sparkler that goes on forever: steady, bursting with energy and white-bright light.

Abigail Johnson Volkmann
If forced, we’d choose Abby’s humor as her greatest gift—by which we mean her finest attribute and what she generously bestows on others. An endearing union of self-deprecating, goofy, and ironic, it somehow zings right to the essence of what it is to be human, the good and the not-so-good. Abby exposes it all to the light, and in doing so, demonstrates wisdom unlikely in someone her age. Hers is the intelligence of the heart, spoken aloud, an “awk-a-lawk-a-lawk” or giggle that puts everyone else at ease. But behind the big-sky smile and occasionally larger laughs is some tough stuff: teachers routinely extol Abby as tops in conscientiousness and dedication, and she’s not shy about taking on challenging classes. Her writing can prove a pointed thesis or take you to some world she’d like you to see or feel—rush hour in downtown Missoula or a yeehaw leap from the roof of a boathouse on Flathead Lake. That spirit makes Abby go—go fast and hard, defending to the death the back-end of the lacrosse field or switching to attack, creating scoring opportunities in soccer, or covering all the ground on a tennis court or all the notes on a page of flute music. Robust tenacity, gumption, and competitive drive are value-adds to her natural instincts in these places. In the dorm, though, or on a trail atop Heckles, on the Pergola or around a high-mountain campfire—wherever there are others to swap stories or just yammer—Abby softens, like snowmelt in spring, responding to those around her with warmth and good counsel. Although we wish Abby had arrived one September sooner than she did, we’ll go with “three’s a charm” and be glad for what we got.

Daniel Stuart Waldman
Serendipitous might well describe how Danny came to us—Kentucky to Eleuthera to Thacher—but did he credit an alignment of the stars? No way. Danny is pure intentionality, whatever he sets his mind, “two clear eyes,” and hands to do. A complicated mathematics question, a charge to capture in words a precise moment on a Cape Cod beach, the complexities of creating a biodiesel station at Thacher—they can run, but they cannot hide from Danny’s intelligence, full-on engagement, and big, big vision. Danny’s special gift, though, is that his zealousness warms rather than burns, that others come easily into his sphere of positive, wholesome influence and roll their sleeves up, too. Through basketball and lacrosse games, benefit swim-a-thons, Lower School shenanigans, bone-chilling treks over Sierra passes, in river rapids and howling ocean winds and on skin-shredding climbs in Joshua Tree, Danny wins the highest respect and regard, making Follow-the-Leader his main game.  And while it’s always fun to plant your feet in Danny’s footsteps, he provides quiet, life-long lessons all along the way: instruction in honesty, trustworthiness, integrity. A friend said, “He cares about everything, everyone: the environment, freshman boys, all of his responsibilities.” Little wonder that a faculty kid tags after him while he does his morning job, or that his bedtime song puts another child to sleep. Danny acknowledges his fellow students “for teaching compassion and humility.” True, yet it’s also another sign of Danny’s character that he sees this Thacher experience this way. What we know at the end of two, too-short years with this “hot new junior,” puts a twist on an old saw: “If you build it, Danny, dollars to donuts, we will come.”

Thomas Pierce Waltcher
Airborne: From skit skateboarding across the Centennial Amphitheatre and galloping Little Twist four Mays ago down towards that magic circle in the dirt to flying skyward to head a soccer ball, it’s what we visualize when we think of this dude. He’s always willing to put himself out there for both personal pleasure and group happiness. As a friend wrote, “He’s a necessity.” But Thomas is a walking (well, more like racing) paradox, described by a classmate as “laid-back yet completely high energy.” The latter is of individual value, but it also gets others into gear, as he cheerfully inspires them to their own faster selves on championship cross-country course or soccer field, or to a fuller commitment in the classroom or across from him in a debate. Thomas has repeatedly impressed his teachers and peers with his organization, preparation, efficiency, follow-through, and unfailingly high standard of excellence. Thomas may be a non-stop talker, but know three things: first, he always has something meaningful to say; second, he listens with rapt attention to you, and third, he is genuinely sympathetic to the views of all others at the table.  One teacher said of Thomas, “He is well-liked for the right reasons”—which in this community means for his endless good will and authentic friendliness to everyone, freshman to senior to faculty member, for his loyalty to principles, his delivery on promises, and his unflinching commitment to doing the best work he can. Sounds presidential, and is—in the world out there, we’re sure that Thomas would win both the electoral and the popular vote. Sick. In a good way.

Robin Michele Walter
“To take by storm”—a phrase custom-tailored for Robin. With elemental energy, with vibrancy and hurricane force, she is neither quiet nor reserved about her course and her causes. She sees red—and wears it, motivating everyone else to, as well—when a social inequality comes into sight, over the border at Puerta de Fe orphanage or clear around the world in Burma, Tibet, or Sudan. Robin “has a strong sense of what she believes in,” says one admirer—and we have all seen her STAND and heard her eloquently deliver the message, aloud and on blog, that we all must find our own ways of acting on. Robin understands the serious call inherent in “much is expected of those to whom much has been given,” and she answers it as moral obligation, with fearlessness, intelligence, and an embracing heart. She especially relishes those courses that give strength to her voice and meaning to her actions—Mexican History, Spanish, Civil Wars, Environmental Science, Short Story. Inside classrooms and outside of them, Robin puts to profitable use the “impressive ability to integrate” that her teachers praise, seeking and finding the best and highest place for her talents—an organic farm in Argentina, for example, where she effects the perfect conversion of empathy and thought to lasting deed.  Closer in, Robin has torn up lacrosse fields, poured herself into yoga, logged many miles crossing the mountains. And she knows how to scare up some of the most stunning costumes this side of Halloween, building loyal friendships out of her silliness and understanding. “To believe is to create,” said one of Robin’s South American friends, “and to create is to believe.” Robin will, we believe, build increasingly more noble nests out of just this principle.

Rachel Marguerite Walton
To riff on that saying about dogs: “Rita is exactly the person her horse thinks she is.” Devoted. Cheery. Patient. Strong-willed. Caring. Especially if you are furry and four-footed, but also if you’re a friend, a disabled youngster here to TROT, or a Curwen kid counting the days ‘til faculty meetings so Rita can come babysit. Rita has hugged the Thacher Experience strong-arm tight, yet has remained cool-headed when the trail’s been precarious. A friend marvels, “She knows exactly what she wants; she produces fabulous work from this quality alone.” What Rita wants, she goes after, like a terrier-mix: a Chamber piece or a complex chorus number in the winter musical, a more comprehensive understanding of character motivation (relative to dogs, naturally) in Wuthering Heights, a better way to paint a particular shape in a still-life, or, minor miracle, the application of the operant conditioning principle to get Pesky Mazzola into line. She does not do little. A 20/20 eye for detail—look at her horse illustrations or listen to her parse Potter #7—combined with whip-cracking smarts, a nearly unrivaled meticulousness in note-taking, and full-absorption reading rate gird Rita for the most challenging coursework. Yes, she is outspoken, but she always comes around to listening after a couple of loping circles of interpretation. And she does love loping, or any gait, taking honest pride in her work with full-grown horse or youngster, putting them through paces, forgiving their bucks, forging contributing equine citizens. As Rita moves to her future, we can’t help but act a tad like her filly, “angled towards [her], ears pricked to catch the shuffling crunch of boots on the dusty road”—a sound we’ll miss.

Alessandra Ten Eyck Waste
When a classmate called Alessandra “one of the coolest girls I know,” specifics tumbled after: “She loves to camp, ride trails and gymkhana, sail, bike, ski, kayak, and trapshoot!” And that was just the outdoor list, which, incidentally, also includes lacrosse and rattlesnake skinning. Inside, there’s drawing and painting, flying squid and thylacines; technical theater (above and underground), stage crew, costuming and singing expected and unexpected songs in small groups, Annie Get Your Gun’s chorus, and in solo spotlight, hilariously as the aspiring, conspiring Madame Thenardier; writing poetry and short stories, lining out Lit Society, and Network consulting.  Oh, and she swings down the sidewalk to classes, armed with what teachers have called  “excellent study habits, relentless drive for mastery, and high engagement,” for everything from Numbers Theory to Beowulf. Beyond this, Alessandra brings a range of others into thoughtful conversation, just as easily and naturally as she brings together disparate ideas in an English course or in Biology. “She’s the most creative person I know,” said one fan and friend, her brain on perpetual fizz. Alessandra squeezes more into 24/7 than most, but it’s not out of some need to stockpile or resume-load. Her love for all she does is egoless and sincere, her interests wide, her concern deep. Her versatility and creative style—distinctly non-linear—guarantees a life-map that, like a fantasy book that magically writes itself as you watch, will take Alessandra to that place of “something greater” she believes we’re all part of. It took her to Atlantis, and she brought us to belief. Where else it will lead, who knows? All we ask: between your soaring, swimming, slipping and launching, send us a postcard now and again?

Elizabeth Bond Wilkinson
A new Ellie emerged this year: the edgy, scream-in-your-face factory worker, the one who, behind closed dorm doors, is vitriolic, scornful, downright derisive. Don’t worry, though: Bad Girl Ellie is all an act, on stage or film, and while everyone applauds the stretch it took to tune into that Ms. Hyde, we know nothing’s further from the truth of Ellie. Sweet and caring, she looks out for everyone—“simply one of the kindest people I’ve ever known,” said one teacher. As a leader, she’s firm, fair, patient, and consistent, cheering you even as she’s gently pointing out necessary boundaries. Seeing Ellie in action, you respect her, gymkhana field to volleyball court to rambunctious Casa hallways. As a student, Ellie’s a nonpareil, her daily excellence a bonding of sparkling intellect and gritty, exhaustive preparation. Her desire to go from learning to mastery motivates those sharing the seminar or lab table, dramatically changes, her teachers say, the very quality of the classes she’s in—or wows everyone listening to her dissertation on Mary Magdalene. If you miss a class, be sure to get Ellie’s notes: accurate, organized, minutely detailed, they’re often better than the teacher’s. (She took them while asking probing questions and offering first-rate analysis.) Top scholar or head TROTter, Chamber Singers and community service’s alto stalwart, Ellie is the “six impossible things before breakfast” type of efficiency. Early evening on a gymkhana Wednesday, when she’s finished JJ’s schooling so he won’t back off another cliff, groomed him well and put him away, flipped the burgers at a Blue Team barbecue, and nibbled on her own, she stays to fold the tables and lug them away.  That’s the whole deal, the real deal. That’s Ellie.

Ziyuan “Connie” Zhang
Speaking or writing in flawless English, Chinese or French, Connie earns the sort of awe that’s expressed in a collective “Zut alors!” Or “Whoooaaa.” Or maybe it’s more of a “Woowww.”  Whatever the pronunciation, Connie has won our respect from the day she unpacked her bags at Casa. Her quick mind works in tandem with a calm, deliberate working style to produce essays and exams that serve as models of clarity, maturity, precision, synthesis—and quite often mastery. Just read her piece memorializing her uncle’s billiards parlor or her Shan Sa exegesis. Connie moves methodically around and through the whole curriculum, advanced classes in the humanities to math and science and art, plucking blooms with the discretion and delight of a horticulturist, curious about every stem, petal, and stamen and fully appreciative of their beauty. One garden isn’t sufficient for this adventurous traveler, though: eager to experience a third culture, Connie crossed her second sea to settle in Rennes, France, for a year, there to explore, connect, sink more roots. And, as here, she impressed her teachers with her abilities, plumbing Ionesco and the riches of the Louvre, fulfilling her craving for getting thoroughly inside another culture to find the commonalities and the differences that make human interchange meaningful and rich. Fluency, in Connie’s case, goes beyond the spoken and written bon mot, to drawing, photography, editing hundred-page yearbooks, and—perhaps most important—to relationships worldwide. In all of these, Connie perceives with unusual vision and understanding that it is by virtue of shadow that we are most fully conscious of light. She gets it—and she gives it back, with humble generosity.