Been Away A Spell

For Tag Curwen, coming home was mostly about the tater-tots.

Prompted by his sister Darcy’s sighing, “Mom made a lot of soups at home in England,” Tag framed his sense of return to Thacher simply: “I was really ready to eat in the Thacher dining room again. I missed the food here.”

Whether on a sabbatical year (as the Curwen kids were, in Bristol, England, with parents Alison and Austin, and sister Stapley), downeast to Chewonki Neck for a few months at Maine Coast Semester, or on a more permanent leave, having moved on or away from Thacher years ago, there’s much to miss when you drive down between the stone pillars for a spell.

Beyond the local produce salad bar and Robin Schlitt’s mirabile dictu baked treats are open doors, space to breathe deeply, hills to hike, trails to test, friends—both schoolmates and adults—who know us deeply and consequentially.

But we leave this (and much more, some listed in Forest Cooke’s Litany) for good reasons—to taste new dishes, see new coastlines and mountains, travel down urban canyons or berg alleyways, try on different cultures, get lost in some kind of learning, feel something of the breadth of the world.

Whatever we’ve done and wherever we’ve been, when we return to Thacher, as keenly as we may have hankered for this or that element in our community’s particular periodic table, we might come through the gates with a sense akin to what paralyzes Salinger’s Holden Caulfield as he stands before his beloved Natural History Museum. There, at the entrance, he faces a frightening duality: first, he worries that what’s inside might have changed, despite the fervency of his desire that “[c]ertain things they should stay the way they are” and his growing doubt that they do, at least completely. Second, he knows that, once you’re inside, “the only thing that would be different would be you.”  For Holden, that changed self is terrifying—or potentially incongruent with what’s inside. He grabs a cab and takes off in another direction.

Claire Frykman, another adventurer—same program, different continent—was eager and excited to come back, “mostly to see my friends and teachers that I love.” But she had some reservations: “What worried me for a little bit when I was in China was that I might feel like I was taking a step back[wards]. From a huge bustling city with so many opportunities and immersion in a foreign culture, the bubble of Thacher seemed a bit mundane. Thankfully, now that I'm here I don't know why I worried. There's nothing mundane about meeting new people (I missed the entire sophomore class last year!). I might be putting my Chinese life on hold for a while, but I know for sure that I will be back in Beijing as soon as I've got the frequent flier miles. It's simple: I have three places to call home now, including Thacher and my "house." But for now, I can cherish my last year of the close-knit Thacher community that I love.”

Also away for “an exceptional year in China” was Lauren “Lo” Rosenfeld, who was “surprised all over again by the beauty of the school” and cheered by the “community’s wholehearted greeting.” She went on, “Despite my initial anxieties, the relationships that I had formed during my two years at Thacher still remained intact and resilient, with students and teachers. Although my senior responsibilities seem overwhelming right now, I know that I have an incredible support system here. I hope to help the freshman girls this year appreciate this generous community that surrounds them.”

Alison Curwen, Study Skills coordinator, noted the dramatic shift from small town to city (Austin was studying at the University of Bristol, in England’s 6^th largest city) and remarked on “how large everything is in the States—from cars to homes—and how that impacts your day-to-day life.” For the first time in many years, Alison did not teach, and she missed it, noting “how work can be so fulfilling when you answer a student/parent concern, or help a student/parent navigate new waters.” She also commented on the somewhat surreal quality of sabbatical experience in retrospect: “We had a year-plus of being away, an experience that only our family truly get/understands—and, having returned, it's it’s as if we never left, because we’ve picked up right where we left off.”

Austin concurred with the “size and scale” shock of Stateside return and spoke of the benefits of walking to most places in Bristol. As for coming home to Thacher, “in some ways, our ultimate return to campus was similar to all summers where the beginning of August rolls around and my thoughts shift to the coming year. The inevitable mental lists begin to form—an annual gearing up.  In some ways the routine is very comforting because there are rarely surprises, and reengaging with this community of learners is predictably interesting and invigorating.  But there are also anxieties.  Having been gone for a year, I missed seeing a class I greatly enjoyed move through and ultimately complete their senior year. Also, half the school would be—for awhile, anyway—complete strangers.  Learning 60 names is easier than 120.

 Kristin Sawyer’s reflection on her Maine Coast Semester sojourn last spring focused on a pride of ownership: “While I was away in Maine, conversations about where we came from and what our home schools were like took place regularly, and every time I engaged in one, I realized how lucky I was to be going back to Thacher. Everyone was so envious, even the people who attend other boarding schools, that I was able to return to a strong community of students and teachers much like the one we all came to love at Chewonki. I am so grateful that I got to return to a school like Thacher.

For alums or former faculty, bringing a child through the gates can be especially charged. Neal Howe CdeP 1969, called it “the greatest gift of my daughter’s young life, one that now becomes an ancestral home, [even] stronger and more beautiful than when I left it. I imagined that when I dropped my only child off on September 5^th it would be a tearful parting for Brisha, my wife Patricia, my mother, and me.  Instead, there was comfort and joy because we could all see that this was more than we had hoped for. This was a school and a home that the administration, teachers, staff, and board of trustees have carefully crafted to be the best they could envision.”

Susan Taylor CdeP 1982 felt similarly reassured, and not merely because her son, Jake Nelson, helps to represent the third generation of Montana Taylors to attend the School. (His cousin Bea Taylor is a sophomore.) The day after the return road trip—1150 or so miles of ruminating opportunity, this time with the 40-foot rig emptied of horses and gear—Susan checked in with this calm, brief missive: “Bringing Jake to Thacher was returning to a comfortable place. I am pretty confident that he will thrive there, so leaving him [off] was a beautiful thing, not scary or even sad. It was fun watching him settle in and then run off. In fact, as a result of circumstances and timing, we never said a proper goodbye. I think we were both entirely comfortable with the prospect of his life at Thacher.” Jake reports, “I already feel like it’s family here.”

For Susan’s classmate, Belinda Hanson, there was a time-travel tint to her Opening Day experience. “I swear,” she wrote, “it was only yesterday that I was playing soccer and watching the sunset over the Ojai Valley.  Hadn’t I just folded an English paper in half and slipped it into Mr. Robinson’s box?  Yet, unbelievably, here I was, dropping my daughter, Leigh, off at Casa over Labor Day.  I felt like the girl in Peggy Sue Got Married: all dewy-eyed about being able to taste the orange blossoms in the air again.

One of my friends asked me how I knew Thacher was the right school for Leigh.  I explained that Leigh chose Thacher because it connected all the dots in her life—horses, friends, community, a vibrant academic life, faculty and student relationships.  And if the “dots” of life are stars, I know absolutely that Thacher is Leigh’s constellation.  Life is never certain or tidy when you are stepping gingerly from “dot to dot,” but when the dots form a constellation all brightly lit up in the night sky, it feels exhilarating and comforting.  Have you noticed that the Southern Cross is really a giant T – pointing us all to Thacher?”

Plainly, Mark Leydecker CdeP 1979 and father of Carson ‘13 was in wondering mode much of Opening Day. Not long afterwards, he sent this:

In this whole business of homecoming, freshman Liam Driscoll is in a class by himself. His mom, Monique DeVane, was five months pregnant when she arrived at Thacher from Northfield-Mt. Hermon School to become Director of Admission (and later Assistant Head for External Affairs); her husband Brian Driscoll was Director of Major Gifts, and together they brought Liam and Owen into the growing flock of facbrats. Seven years ago, the family moved east of Eden, ultimately settling in Cleveland, OH. Then Liam decided it was time to get back to his roots—to the trees he’d climbed, the bushes he’d built forts in, the classrooms and labs he’d eyed as a kid. He applied and was admitted. In the waning weeks of summer, Monique confessed, “I’m feeling like this is a sort of karmic rebalancing. I’m in this teetering place where I’m slightly teary and a little wiggy—but also grateful in advance for what I know absolutely will be a life-changing experience for Liam. He’s coming back to his childhood home—which is why I don’t have, and haven’t had a moment of hesitation about his leaving Cleveland.”

For don’t-look-back Liam, re-entry was smooth as sliding off a slick boulder into a barranca pool in spring. “Really, I didn’t have to have the big nervous moment,” he smiled at the start of his third week. “I know the teachers. And the place. It wasn’t like being put in the hands of people I didn’t know.”

Another faculty child gets the last word, a combination of the philosophical and the practical. After 14 months away, “all the way up Thacher Road in the car, Tag and Stapley were just screaming.” Darcy rolls her eyes just a little. “But me, well, at the gate, I asked to get out, so I could walk the rest of the way, you know, zig-zag across the campus. I wanted to see if it was the same.”

Clearly, no mid-novel Holdens around this ranch.