Senior Tributes 2010

A Thacher education is unique twenty ways to Sunday, starting with new students’ first class being not Spanish or Physics but Balanced Backpack 101 and Introduction to Hydrating for the High Country. It concludes with Commencement—the center of which for each senior is a few moments on the dais in front of a few hundred family members, friends, faculty and staff, as a few things are said about the person each senior has been to this community. Then, the diploma hand-off and hug(s).

These tributes are neither summaries of achievements nor exhaustive catalogs of each student's strengths. Rather, as Head of School Michael Mulligan puts it, they are "first impressions ratified by multiple examples over time." They are tiny quilts, pieced together by hand out of advisor letters and instructors’ reports, scraps of conversations and Assembly announcements, songs performed, jokes cracked; they capture the input of peers, coaches, and teachers. They aim to illuminate the contributions each of the 72 members of CdeP 2010 made to The Thacher School during her or his time here.

As carefully crafted as Senior Tributes are, the order of their delivery at Commencement day is, by tradition, random. (This year’s faculty readers were Jeff Hooper, Chris Mazzola, Derick Perry CdeP 1983, Blossom Pidduck CdeP 1992, Peter Robinson, and Michael Mulligan.) Below, we present them alphabetically by last name.

Laura Margaret Ammons

“If you get the chance to sit it out or dance. . .”? Are you kidding? Though she’ll sing the lyrics, this is not a question Laura entertains, entertaining as she can certainly be. Laura’s already up on her feet, spontaneously break dancing to Korean rap, or draped fluidly across the barre, or pitching her strong body floorward or flying through the air, defying gravity with every powerful, expressive split jeté she makes. Fluttering behind her, the mantle of “Most Inspirational,” the gift of other ensemble members woven of her own dedication and drive, yet worn like so much gossamer. Call her Laura, call her Maggie, but don’t call her solely a dancer or singer. Sly Cat-in-the-Hat, flirtatious Felicity, cleverly helpful Tranio, Mimi the saucy Hot Box girl, a guy (several times over) and a doll—she lives fully in each role, and brings us to believe by the combination of technical skill and natural talent. And there are the recent additions to her repertoire—choreography, filmmaking, YouTube script transcription, and artistic directing. “Laura,” says a friend, “throws herself into everything she tries. And when she does not succeed, she simply tries until she does.” This image carries into Laura’s academic work, into which she hurtles herself with equal zest and determination. Her teachers praise her curiosity and eagerness to connect with concepts at a deeply intellectual level. It can be messy down there, but Laura doesn’t mind—any more than she does getting her hands tangled in knots or patching thread, or dirty on a horsecamping trip she’s captaining or gymkhana race she’s running for Blue, sorting through compost to peel off even one teeny banana sticker or through costumes for Spring Sing at Hogwarts, or grabbing for a silver dollar. Trust this: she gets what she goes after. One teacher wrote that Laura, like the Hindu goddess Durga, laughs—guffaws, more like it—at the laws of biology that limit each human to only two arms. Laura’s are strong, capable, expansive, even wizardly—and she has wrapped them around the entire Thacher experience, holding fast, creating a unique limbic resonance, fulfilling Whitman’s declaration: “We do not have a body. We are a body.”

McCoy Reynolds Becker

Rewinding the tape to the fall of 2006, backpack hefted on 13-year-old shoulders, body compliantly aimed for the Cottonwood Lakes—well, the image bears some resemblance to the figure standing here today. Then, as now, there was tremendous unseen strength inside, and a resilience, too—like the sweet spot on a tennis racket, meant for best effect in getting the job done with powerful, reliable efficiency. (As for that, riding your horse from gymkhana practice to a tennis match surely qualifies, when both are part of your life.) These qualities have served McCoy well during his Thacher years, especially as they are part of someone whose good intentions and cheerfulness make him choice company in the dorm, on a camping trip, or on the court—well, if you’re a Toad and not a Ram, or from Pasadena Poly. In which case, you might want to get off the court and back into your van. McCoy’s sometimes sly sense of humor is part of his charm and affability: Who else would see fit, during his Senior Exhibition, to hand off a chunk of watermelon to someone in the audience in his Senior Exhibition, without dripping all over his black gi, or, more importantly, missing a beat in the otherwise serious and scholarly discourse on the historic roots and practice of ninjitsu? We can’t see inside McCoy’s brain, but teachers would note that his intellectual growth has also been morph-speed-ahead: his mind is logical, and he connects the conceptual with the specific by virtue of methodical, conscientious care. “His great talents” a teacher writes, “are in remembering, contemplating, processing, and understanding on a deep level the big picture of a literary text.” The same intensity wins even the State Championship in tennis, against all odds. But the boy knows how to have fun: tomahawk tossing games, managing the girls’ tennis team for credit, playing soccer forward, hanging in the Courts between bench-pressing his friends and flying himself, flag-like, from any pole available. The black-belted guy has made himself into steel. But stealth and silence? We think not. Mostly, McCoy is the teammate and buddy you’re happy to count on your side: dedicated, willing, even-tempered, light-hearted and spirit-lifting, but there for you, solid and unmoving as Matillija Peak, when you’re down. Then, you understand what love and live really means.

Laura Elizabeth Benard

“She’s an amazing teacher, really,” a faculty member once said of Laura. “Clear, calm, focused. Unbelievably smart. She knows what she’s doing out there.” The “out there” was the Extreme Cowboy Race course—but Laura’s as comfortable standing before any audience delivering a scholarly presentation on electromagnetics or Malcolm X or natural horsemanship as she is in boots and spurs, cleaning corrals, or coaching her teammates, who improve under her tutelage and encouragement. To her studies, Laura applies an unfailingly serious, supremely organized, impeccable and comprehensive approach that, across the academic spectrum, wins her ribbons stamped “First-rate!” and the genuine esteem of her teachers and peers. As curious as she is meticulous, Laura consistently sets the standard for excellence; “her writing,” says a teacher-fan, “is beautiful”—and another, “ridiculously good.” As for the Laura of cloverleaf barrels or keyhole, competitiveness and appropriate caution meet at the same nexus as speed and control—even if the thrill of the former sometimes comes close to eclipsing the latter. How to find that precise intersection, where the probability of mistakes plummets? You must exercise exceptional consistency, discipline, patience and understanding. Further, you must have the kind of brain that is intimately connected to your body, which then merges with the leather of your saddle (if you’ve got one) and the flanks of your horse.  You must speak equus. Laura does—but she’s also got the kind of heart that counts as part of her success the sound health of her horse and the achievements of others. High point at Big Gymkhana or at the four-school competition clear in another state are her ways of helping the team. She helps younger riders get the most out of their horses. One of Laura’s friends wrote, “It’s an honor to think that freshman year, she helped me [learn to] ride.”  As Laura knows, the whole of the limitless sky is blue-blue-blue, “a kingdom bigger than this.”  Our best guess is that Laura will live in that limitlessness ‘til the cows come home—by which we mean, ‘til she brings them home, probably on the gleaming back of a bridleless horse.

Jackson Bernhard Berler

With Jackson, a smile is a grin, and the grin draws you in—and holds you there in its warmth and comfort. His is a cheerfulness that doesn’t compromise focus or seriousness for one minute, though, and these contribute to Jackson’s measurable, mighty success. It’s rather that the positive, optimistic attitude is like grease to the skids, taps to the dancing shoes. Not unlike his enthusiasm: Jackson has the kind of eyes that both twinkle with delight when he knows he’s had a moment of particular success and light up entirely when he’s in a moment of scholarly revelation in one of his courses, or after a match-settling, put-away move in a debate or on the tennis court, or on the boards in the shine of the footlights as the curtains close and the roar of the audience brings him back for another well-deserved bow. Talent runs broad and deep in Jackson, right-brain and left; instructors and classmates would call him a born teacher: most of us were convinced by“Berler’s Plan” and think he ought to take it straight to Prime Minister Netanyahu. But it is the formidable dedication he brings to all of his pursuits that propels him to his many successes, from Songs of the South to explaining the latest biological theory of hypnosis. Unafraid of putting in the hours of repetitive motion—a serve, a scene, a soccer play, a science lab, a Senior Exhibition on the survival of Israel—he knows that commitment has its quiet, private rewards as well as those that others recognize and appreciate. Jackson may be a guy, but he’s also a doll, when it comes to his relationships. In these, writes a friend, he truly "cares about people"—whether you’re a peer or a younger kid, a faculty member working in a garden or one needing another pair of hands to knead the bread. Morally grounded and globally aware, “Jackson is,” says another classmate, “a perfect balance of athlete, scholar, and friend.”  In our world of Casa de Piedra, that’s the Grand Slam.

Brianna Colette Bohnett

When, as a child, your favorite toys included rocks, when your imagination has always grown like a garden tilled with the richest compost on this green earth, when—later—you draw a horse that bit, kicked, and bucked and you still completed the program in good standing; when you are as sharp as a precisely focused photograph and you have more creativity in one of your freckles than most of us have in our entire corpus (we’ll limit the list to art, music, poetry, playwriting, essays, photography, and videography)—well, it stands to reason that you are going to 1) have an intriguing, singular journey through Thacher and, 2) leave an imprint on this School that’s got nothing to do with carbon.  Of the first, we’d be smart to leave it to Brianna herself to put into words exactly what the trip’s been like—though we’d guess equal parts romp and reflection. Of the second, we can say that there are plants thriving, literal and metaphoric, because of Brianna’s vision, belief, and roll-up-the-sleeves hard work. It is her voice we hear when we act with environmental consciousness: she is at our shoulder when we scrape our leftovers into the appropriate bucket or resist using paper or plastic. Or her laugh is—which celebrates the quotidian and the marvelous with equal abandon. EAC can also stand for Exceptionally Astute Confidant: as a friend wrote, “she’s always there as a shoulder to cry on,” which another friend calls “abiding friendship and unending care” One teacher’s comment encapsulates the feeling among those who watch Brianna daily: “I admire both Brianna’s brain and her spirit: she plays a huge role in the success of her class and in the school as a whole, sharing her sincere dedication to learning and friendships with vitality and grace.”   It’s a generous, giving vitality that takes her into soccer huddles and the Sierra mountains, and France, out on jazz riffs and into poems that unwind like iridescent ribbons. So: maybe we could get really serious about recycling and let Brianna go around again?

Sarah Jane Boneysteele

As one classmate noted, Sarah needn’t even be present to make you smile: read an email about her lost laptop or her need for ride to the Farmer’s Market, note her email content (“My goal in life, in addition to earning more money than my older brother, is to become a forensic anthropologist”—the lead-in to a request to watch a telly show) or taglines (one credits Dolly Parton: “I just hope that I drop dead right on stage one of these days, doing exactly what I want to do.”) or look at her notebooks left on the bench near Room C. They convey her quirkiness (doodles, ripped slips of paper reminding her or others of this or that), her intensity (“Whoever stole my soul will pay;” “a single carrot travels 1838 miles to get to our mouth!!”), and her essential trust that it’ll all turn out ok. Or just think about Mayzie, flouncing, shimmying, belting out her show-offy eponymous song. Equally wholehearted in her commitment to understanding whatever’s in front of her, Sarah will not settle for soft or easy answers. As one teacher remarked, “Her brain works in a complex way; the results are unique, sometimes entertaining, sometimes erudite, always original.” (So dedicated was she about topics in Environmental Science that she helped to create a post-AP level course.) Others call her “relentless,” “committed,” “provocative, “a mature, flexible kind of smart.” She knows that when you work, you work—and if “undeterrable” isn’t a word, we’ll just prove the dictionary wrong, knowing that Sarah will give us credit for bolditude. As for her humor, it can be witty, wicked, or roll-all-over-the-floor, but it’s always fun—and it can often be tied to some song lyric or another, which she’ll happily burst into. Chamber or star-quality solo, madrigal ensemble singer to gum-chomping Brooklyn moll to ravine, insane woman or Malfoy, Sarah’s the a”mayz”ing mezzo you want a lot of in your show. Wrote her director, “She’s fearless in whatever character she’s playing—and unwilling to give less than her best. She conducts herself like a pro.” No Adelaidesque neurotic tendencies here. Modest, reliable and resilient, self-deprecating yet confident, Sarah’s “a shot for whatever you’ve got.”

Lauren Vuillemot Bosche

Nightowl, imbiber of all experience that ends in belly laughter, possessed of “an inventive, hilarious sense of humor” (in the words of an admiring classmate), Lauren is a steadfast and true friend, a boon, capable, “happy to help you whatever you need!” companion on trail, in the dorm, or around campus, a highly skilled, nationally competitive rider whose love of all things horse translates into both measurable success and immeasurable delight in her equine partnerships. While she can see details in the dark, among Thacher’s byways and the deer trails around Piedra Blanca’s boulders, her laser vision sharpens even more in daytime: the grain in the walnut slab she has in mind to make into a table, or a historical concept to which, a teacher says, she “provides comments that illuminate a tricky idea for the rest of the class,” or a golden trout in a rustic wooden bench, or a tiny tangle in her horse’s undertail, or the light bouncing gently off a leaf. One pal said, “Enter Lauren Bosche's vicinity, and you realize you’ve been looking at the world in black and white; now suddenly she has doused it with color. This is how much energy and brilliance Lauren brings to her life and those around her.”  Intentional and highly imaginative, Lauren lives as a thoroughly uncynical, entirely optimistic discoverer who relishes the company of others on the adventure, the more challenging, the better—Equitation Teammates, dorm friends, advisee groups, others in the seminar circle, guests at the homeless shelter. What she finds, she shares through laughter, word—spoken and sung—and image. Lauren’s singularly moving photographs, taken with a rudimentary pin-hole camera, a large format one, or a 35mm SLR, reveal her patience and precision as much as they do her natural talent, her experimental propensities, and her unique, independent way of taking in the world and then sharing that vision with others.  Knowing how we will miss the views, broad and minute, through Lauren’s wide-open eyes, we concur with the friend who wrote, “I can't ever get enough of this girl.” For now, today and the four preceding years will just have to suffice.

Sydney Margaret Bowie

Lyricism finds its incarnation when Sydney goes from spotlight statue to a figure moving, apparently effortlessly, across the stage, through the air, blurring the borders of speed, precision, and technique. While we could probably figure out how she gets from exit stage left to entrance stage right, we’d rather suspend the rational and simply believe in Sydney’s corporeal magic. And so we do. Yet the very real—of hard work, sweat in the studio, repetitive practice—is what makes this possible. Loyal to the ensemble and dedicated to her own improvement, she understands the connection between long hours in rehearsal and standing ovations justified by a virtually perfect performance. Sydney makes the same links on the tennis court—where she has the respect of both her teammates and the opposition—and in her academic world, drawing on unusual intellectual maturity and a genuine interest in her subjects—all of them, it seems. “Sydney is graceful in all things,” says one observer; “Her dance informs her intellect.” Her teachers appreciate her “uncanny observational skills, “ her voracious appetite for major intellectual challenges, for discussion and debate,” and her unqualified enthusiasm for going after challenging analyses. Details may run but they cannot hide from this scholar, and subjects as complex as hydrogen cell technology or the origins of religion open wide under the intensity of her research. As a friend to people in many diverse segments of the Thacher community, up the Hill and down, Sydney lends her perennially sunlit temperament, receptive ear, kind shoulder, and endless stock of tea generously and often, tempering even the most difficult moments with a gentle humor that lifts imperceptibly and wisdom that guides surely, like a ballerina whose very movement seems to draw the spotlight with it, as if by some inhuman force. We’re not sure of the origin of this quotation (Sydney’d find out), from a letter by the great German writer, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, but we feel its necessity as we say farewell to this ballerina: Please send me your last pair of shoes, worn out with dancing. . . so that I might have something to press against my heart. 

Amanda Maria Brown

“Amanda's got sass, and she's not afraid to use it.” This, from a friend whose term we’ll translate in all its positive possibilities. Sassiness—a kind of talking back to the world, in Amanda’s case, through action—springs from self-confidence and vibrancy of spirit, and it’s what Amanda has exercised every step of her Thacher way, starting with her decisive, bold cross-country leap from New Jersey to California (and horses!), a choice she made sight unseen. The mileage is inconsequential when you’re making your life, and Amanda, with her sparkling intelligence, boundless curiosity, and infinitely expansive interpretation of the word “education” just goes for it. A symposium on gender studies, a job in rural South Africa working with women and children, an ocean kayaking or backcountry camping trip, a year studying in Spain—no place is too distant, no experience too foreign, no immersion too deep for Amanda’s liking. Yet as often as she has taken her talents on the road, Amanda has thoroughly invested in her home here. A warm, infinitely good-humored, accessible, funny, nonjudgmental, and wise counselor to peers and younger students (and sometimes faculty), she’s helpful at both the philosophical and the mundane level—as in, she always stays for clean-up, gives admission tours almost daily, and can be counted on in a clutch moment on the tennis court. Amanda—a.k.a. “Downtown”—unifies, spanning the distance between people and ideas with her smarts, her savvy, her worldliness, her linguistic fluency, and her natural gift of empathy.  One teacher spoke for all who’ve known Amanda in the classroom: “Her work ethic is unparalleled. She consistently delivers observant, carefully prepared, insightful work.” Insight, courage, and feistiness combine to make a special kind of rebar. We know that the bridges of cultural understanding that Amanda will go out in the world to build will be just this durable—but also beautiful. Because that’s just another part of her sass.

Emmanuel Camarillo

Manny takes to heart the principles we hold as central here: he values honor and believes in acting in a way that is absolutely true to who you are. He knows that mental, physical, and moral strength grows only with the investment of honest effort. Manny’s embrace of Thacher and his growth as a student, an athlete, and a leader has been a wonderful thing to witness these four years many miles from his first home. Fascination, determination, and self-discipline merge in Manny, especially in history and current events courses; those around the seminar table stop everything to listen carefully to the thoughtful insights he shares—and they are convinced when he makes a riveting opening or closing argument in a mock trial. In the huddle and on the sports field—football, soccer, and lacrosse—Manny leads by relentless, hustling example: said one fan, “He throws his heart into every game, harnessing considerable athletic talent with an unswerving work ethic and unfailing good sportsmanship.” The same qualities surge when Manny steps onto a 70-mile trans-Sierra backpacking trip or when he hunkers down at Golden Trout Camp for a longer spell. He has become as at home in the backcountry as on sports fields, and he’s 100% can-do-done when it comes to the chores and challenges the either presents. And the heart? It opens and combines with the wisdom and experience of an eldest child in Manny-as-friend. He has let his peers, younger schoolmates, and faculty become another branch of a family tree he tends with respect and love. Grounded, exceptionally mature, unassuming, and humble, Manny marries competitive to cooperative, brain to brawn, self to other, in myriad, satisfying ways: through selling Taco Bell for a microfinance project, or wise counseling in quiet LP moments, or, his smile broadening, via an April Fool’s prank involving a ringing cell phone, a buddy in a SpiderMan outfit, and a race around the math-science building. No compromising, but also no hoopla, as straight and uncomplicated as Chicago’s wind off the lake.  We cherish the confident voice that Manny has brought to the conversations and discussions of his time here, and we send him from us knowing that the person we see heading off is clear-sighted and solid as any a rock of Casa de Piedra.

Emily Asbury Combs

“True goodness manifested in a girl,” wrote one friend about Emily. You needn’t be a close friend to see this, though: Emily’s optimistic outlook colors the world she moves through, a sort of glow accompanying her. Drop thoughts of saccharine, though: Emily, by example, makes space for those around to help themselves to as much loud and goofy as they want. “If,” wrote another, “you are looking for the positive perspective on life, Emily is the person to go to. She’s a caring, loving friend, loyal and vibrant, who knows exactly what you need in a particular moment.” A compassionate cheerer-upper, true—on mountain and plain, locally and abroad. But that spine is no red vine; it’s solid carbonite, giving Emily strength to power through challenges of every kind, even those that hit meteorically and last awhile. Put her on the trail to Golden Trout with new students watching her example, and straight ahead she uncomplainingly marches, knowing that twinges of knee pain are nothing to the strength she’s regaining with every step. An exemplar there, just as elsewhere: in her classes, where “excellence without excuse” serves as her mantra, she is a consummate student, not merely prepared for each day’s work, but excited about going through the doors that will open to her touch; those whose elegant locks require encryption are especially inviting. She loves language and discovery equally, and isn’t afraid to show it. A classmate called her “hardworking, innovative, creative, a splendid thinker”—evoking Emily the scholar in six words. Put Emily onto a stage, and she loses herself in a jazz solo as completely as she listens to Javi play his. In the dorm, her every action adds emphatic italics to the 9^th graders’ incredulous Emily’s a day student?!  Her clever (if tearful) fairytale farewell put a fitting “The End” to her care of Casa chicks. We’ll just call Emily our round-the-clock/round-the-world goodwill ambassador whose life, we’ll make an educated guess, will be mostly happily ever after.

Douglas David Coughran IV

Calm, confident, cosmopolitan—as a freshman, this citizen of the world cut a mature figure.  (We’ve left out “suave” for the moment.) But the alliterative series is incomplete without “considerate” and “kind” tethered at the end. (And “clingy,” if you toss in the face of Jameson Boulder.) In fact, Doug has spent virtually every moment of his Thacher career building on the foundation provided by these qualities, climbing into unfamiliar programs, journeying further in more familiar arenas. “He has a genuine good soul,” wrote one faculty member—who could have been referring to Doug’s influence on a hail-beleaguered camping trip or on a rock climbing expedition, in an Upper School dorm meeting or Judicial Council deliberation, during a French class (his third language), on the tennis court or soccer pitch, readying a sailboat, cooking an EDT meal in the Ventana Wilderness, hoisting himself surely up cliffs, or working overtime in Camp Supply so that others can prepare for the worst. This is not merely lovely manners, but a consideration of and respect for others that starts, in Douglas, nearly at the molecular level, moves through family, and outward in circles of influence. Said a friend, “He has an extremely powerful moral compass”—the true north of which involves other qualities: loyalty, devotion. “He’s someone who will always have your back.” The same high standard applies to Douglas the student, where he pursues ideas with the aim of nothing less than full understanding. Sophisticated research and complex analysis are well within his grasp, exemplified most recently in his Senior Exhibition where, without a note, he moved masterfully from one original idea to the next, an academic alpinist who can combine several into one—for example, history, geometry, and art as they intertwine among three Mexican architects. Expert, too, and stunning, his wood-and-glass table.  All this, and not a speck of hubris. Doug’s particular leadership here will translate powerfully in the larger world. Best indication of the speed at which we expect this to happen? A rooster tail of Pacific spray fracturing noon sunshine into round diamonds, and Douglas, wide awake and looking back, smiling, self-assured, and—we have to say it—suave.

Georgiana Sze de Rham

What one person wrote about Georgi sounds like advice from sage Tiresias: “It is good to listen when Georgi speaks.” A succinct, broad-reaching explanation follows: “She has a lot of stuff very well thought out.” Among the stuff of which this complex girl-woman is fond: the Balkans or the influence of Rotary winged aviation on the Vietnam War (notes superfluous); methods of overcoming student apathy towards the school newspaper and editing into shape whatever crosses the desk; connecting hock, stock, and sorel with a complete stranger of a horse in order to do bring out both her best and his (4^th place) in the Interscholastic Equestrian Association’s national competition; the meaning beneath the meaning under the meaning in The Stranger or The Road, or a primary history source; details, ad infinitum, of keeping the Equ Team lined out and focused on the jumps (or flat) ahead. The descriptors Georgi’s teachers use tumble together and repeat like so many leg wraps in a dryer: “focused-fun-smart-eloquent-poised-articulate-passionate-dedicated-driven-scholarly-electrifying-focused-determined-scholarly-original.” (Repeat.) “Put her in a college professorship right now,” said a teacher after her Senior Exhibition stunned, informed, and probably intimidated not a few of in the audience. Georgi’s emotional investment in all of this is as huge as the thoroughbreds she schools, cajoles, loves unreservedly. The respect and admiration with which Georgi’s peers hold this child of the universe has equal muscle and heft: “Eloquence in its most natural, unpretentious form. Beauty, humor, and the most ambitious on-top-of-it girl I’ve ever met. Daily, I’m amazed by the effort that Georgi puts into everything she does, the ease with which she seems to tackle her assignments, and the absolute attention to what she loves.” Said another, “When Georgi gets excited about something, you want to be there.” And another: “Through and through, a great soul.” “Being around her is like being under a waterfall of intellect, motivation, energy, vigor, and inspiration.” “A friend who will laugh all day with you.” Bottom line: whether the cavalry’s on horseback or in choppers, clear the decks if Georgi’s leading the charge.

Wohona Luz Delgadillo

Wohona has been swept up in horse-love for four years, since she first pulled on boots in the Chick Barn alley. Clomping barnward in the chill of early morning or dormward in the later afternoon, she has made a good, rewarding life here within those bookends, and well outside of them. Wohona approaches the tasks of the day with an insistent cheerfulness, a willing enthusiasm, and an often wry take on the realities pressing in. A budding creative writer, she brings to the circle a mature perspective on the literature, current events, and politics she studies—and then shares another more imaginative view, drawing with technical precision and fluidity the characters that people her richly active mind, as she did for her SrEx. She has been a stalwart teammate on the volleyball team, and, as important, a highly effective, perhaps even irreplaceable middle blocker. As a cattle wrangler and driver or an Extra Day Trip horsepacker, Wohona “does well with the horses,” making a grandfather’s wish come true: she is efficient and reliable. But for agility, fortitude, courage, and drive in their most fully enlivened form, watch the girl on Palo. She’s got a sure bead on camp drafting and California Poles; she can pick up the sack with a spider-grip and the Silver Dollar, too; in unity and cohesion, the two speed over Hurry Scurry cavaletti like horizontal lightning. Wohona can spear rings better than a medieval jouster, a special sense keeping the lance as steady as her laser gaze down the “TRRRAAAAAACK!!!!”  A spot in the Top Ten has for four gymkhana seasons been part of what gets Wohona’s heart racing; the other has nothing to do with a public acknowledgment of her success. Rather, it’s about figuring out how to get the best out of herself and her steed, about aiming for something akin to what writer Mark Spragg calls “the dream of [living] on the back of a horse.” Two friends encapsulate the gifts of Wohona: “She reminds me with every conversation that people can be forgiven, mistakes understood, and assumptions undermined. She’s got a gentle honesty, a persistent kindness, and a spontaneous sense of humor.” Another adds “artistic, compassionate, the best kind of friend.” A 21^st century braveheart.

Kyle Phillip Dietrich

Kyle plays the piano. Beautifully. He has a favorite classical pianist. Who knew? Truth is, Kyle has unveiled more and more himself as the months and years have wheeled by, and an educated guess would have new talents and interests surprising us even as he leaves campus, diploma in hand. Versatile and multi-talented, Kyle expertly mixes music with athletics with serious academics with leadership of several kinds, keeping us always guessing which Kyle we’re going to meet in the moment. He makes it look effortless, but second tenor is no easy part; blocking and linebacking, catching, pitching, and throwing someone out at second, ditto; and the same with winning the soccer ball in the air, his body lifted by force of muscle and tendon an impossible several feet off terra firma. And there’s the inspirational Kyle, studying about that good old way and making it all happen—not so much that he can grab the spotlight and applause or claim the win, but so that those around him can shine. It’s about the art of team, togetherness, achievement magnified by voices and muscles and minds joined. True in his classes, too, where Kyle is the synthesizing force of discussion. In English or in Spanish or both (just set him loose to write a short story involving the Mexican Revolution), he is especially impressive for his engagement and reliable diligence. One teacher wrote recently, “As tough and fearless as he is, Kyle is also thoughtful and reflective, and he’s willing to go the distance for the group’s happiness and success.” Though he’s rarely off the field or performance stage, Kyle keeps busy, too, behind the scenes, organizing a trip to hear David Sedaris read, rehearsing an a cappella version of Come on Down to the River, or plotting the next Indoor Committee event, laughing his way through the requisite Assembly announcement or getting gold paint all over himself in an effort to ramp up the fun factor. Kyle, you once sang, “I’ll fly away” to us. Hallelujah, bye and bye, it’s time for just that. We trust the strength of your wings and your ability to find the best air currents to take you to where you next want to perch.

William Corwin Dolphin

The very title of Cory’s Senior Exhibition was both tantalizing and, to some, daunting: Direct-Die Phase Change Cooling and Microprocessor Efficiency. As the engineer, Cory had constructed a device of specialty parts from around the world to demonstrate his point, explaining it all in terms that even the grossly befuddled could fathom. As one faculty member wrote, “I didn't understand everything in his presentation—but I believed every word.” Cory brought his impressive brain under those impressive curls, along with a sense of purpose, energetic passion, and complete sincerity to our school last year. Cory might have been late to the class, but for a science and math powerhouse of these dimensions, the door stood wide open. Cory loves the probing part of real learning, using his mind as a tool for prying open the most difficult concepts—and his generous heart to bring others into the light of understanding. Writes a teacher, “Cory’s always on during class; he’s intensely focused, concentrated—one of the most aware kids I’ve ever had in class.” Another gives him all Cs: curious, creative, and consistent at the college level. Cory hops from strength to academic strength like stepping-stones across a Sierra stream or toe-holds punched in Mt. Piños snow, always turning to make sure his classmates are coming along, too, smiling and effusing, “This is spectacular! It’s splendid! Quite brilliant, don’t you think?” We do. Cory cares deeply about the environment, even as he takes sustenance and pleasure being in it: a seedling growing in a seemingly impossible spot on Santa Cruz, a Sespe Gorge boulder demanding advanced skills for the climb, an expanse of Joshua trees—all get his thoughtful attention, his grateful appreciation. If he could merge entirely in them, he would. Same with human beings: Cory is supportive of others even as he gently encourages them to their own better selves. Back to that uncomprehending but faithful faculty member: two too-short years with Cory have been plenty long enough to make believers of us all.

Arjun Dutta

The trajectory of Arjun’s growth these four years has been both steady and impressive. The force behind the bright arc? An amalgam of fine mind, keen kinesthetic awareness, delight in discovery, and an unwavering sense of right and wrong. In Arjun, there is virtually no  “Look at me!” And yet his way of moving through his Thacher days and nights—methodical, responsible, earnest—and the results that bloom from his careful nurturing inevitably draw our eye and our esteem, like filings to a magnet.  In the goal, on a tricky boulder ascent, in a championship tennis match, in camping gear-check or doling-out, or in an intense dorm discussion, Arjun puts his powers of observation, his calm and quiet strength—inner and outer—to effective use, inspiring in others both confidence and trust. No surprise that many look to him for guidance—as well as good book suggestions. Arjun has also taken flight as a student: although he grasps concepts in a range of subjects as easily as finding, with chalked fingers, the next hold on the cliff, it is in Arjun’s patient, consistent, sensitive application of these principles that his deep understanding shows. “He’s a natural teacher,” said one faculty member. “He can think on his feet.” And he can write—another part of the arc, described most clearly in the short story about Idi Amin that Arjun breathed life into for his Senior Exhibition, a presentation he delivered like a pro to a packed, appreciative audience. (Typical Arjun that he thanked no fewer than eight people at its conclusion for their support—not political, but purely loving.) An adult who camped with Arjun once said this: “I knew that if we got lost, injured, sick, or confronted by wild animals, there would be no worries with Arjun around. He led the group at a good pace, but was equally certain to stop and enjoy every view.” This sounds to us like a formula for a happy and fruitful life growing from the “vivid verdure” of whatever orchard he may tend—exactly what we wish for this modest but gifted and shining graduate whom we expect to next in the pages of The New Yorker.

Teresa Marie Findley

“The fun machine.” That’s what one Findley Fan wrote, adding, “Bonus: Can play guitar.” The understatement of the year, that. “From head to toes,” wrote another, “Reese is all that is artist: vibrant, exciting, creative, unique, perceptive.” Of course—but the classmate pushed the definition further: “It’s not just in music (a given), but in her novel perspectives and her curiosity.” Teachers also appreciate the worldly and informed perspective Reese offers to their class discussions—a quality of acceptance, too—arising from her having grown up in a global, diverse community. They also value—and count on—her ability to open those highly attuned ears fully to others before giving her own opinion, and her measured thoughtfulness, and her abiding commitment to her academics. She’s strong, fearless, and imperturbable as a soccer player and horsewoman, too: a huge striker charging at her with the ball or a green horse with a wild streak—no worries. All this is prelude, though, to the music, ubiquitous, persuasive. As Reese takes to stage, small or large, formal or in-, tunes her heirloom guitar and begins to play and sing—her own compositions or inventively reconceived covers, solo or ensemble—we watch those expert fingers move across frets and strings, and we listen, and pretty soon, the charm’s wound up: we’re swaying or tapping our feet, or we’re up and dancing in the aisles. The hold Reese has on us in this way and others feels like those guitar wires are joined with our very heartstrings—or even our gut-strings. Reese wraps her musical gifts in different boxes—rock, classical, folk, jazz, blues, torchsong—but boxes can’t contain it all, either. Given Reese’s multiple aptitudes and interests, we have no clue whether she’ll become world renowned as an activist, an engineer, or a singer/song-writer/composer. But any way she chooses to play it, we’ll count ourselves lucky to say we knew her when and when she “call[]s to say ‘I love you,’” we’ll gladly accept the charges—and get misty all over again.

Jane Marshall Fisher

En pointe. This takes great, many-muscle strength, demands balance and maturity, creates in the viewer a sense of weightlessness. That with Jane, we can use the term both literally and figuratively proves the multiplicity of talents with which she has graced our lives these four years. All those qualities apply, first and foremost, to Jane-the-scholar. Her supple, promethean intelligence operates full-bore in every academic discipline. A close reader? It’s as if Jane’s eyes are microscopes on text and subtext. Her insights into literature are as unfailingly apt as those into a scientific principle or a syntactical construct in Spanish—and can she write! Long ago, her teachers ran dry on new and different superlatives in their term comments to capture the degree to which she commits and the nature of her broadly reaching excellence. All agree with one, who wrote, “Jane does not settle. She is constantly contemplating ‘What more...?”, “What next....?” This applies, as well, to her artwork—including El Archivero—which expresses a yearning both to understand and to convey a personal vision. Yet while Jane sets the barre high, and urges others to stretch, too, she brings them along with genuine respect. In this way, Jane’s uncommonly powerful, often entirely original intellect partners with an informed heart, joining firepower and compassion. She has, says a friend “a sweet soul, protected by a poised opinion.” And the balance? “She works hard, and she plays hard,” writes another friend. Jane is highly respected for the way she creates a complex, stunningly beautiful combination from the many facets of her Thacher life, infusing each movement with passion, joy, inventiveness, and intensity, starting with rivaling the wind in her riding three years ago and ending with A Part Together a Milligan stage made small by her artistry. Finally, then, to the dance: ballerina meets contemporary dancer meets choreographer. With her lithe flexibility, her quick-study aptitude, and her at-the-marrow musicality, Jane is the slyph who draws our eye with pirouette and pique, as magnetically as with a simple, elegant plié. We say, as Jane jetés away, you’ve left us mesmerized.

Remy Aileen Makiko Fisher

In one human being, so many intriguing and appealing contrasts: the serene and the fired-up, the reserved and the fearless, the love-my-little-school and the worldly cosmopolite, the gentle listener and the opinionated idea promoter. But do not misunderstand us: Remy is no mere mixed-up chameleon; rather, she is someone extremely sensitive to the moment, open to the emotional valence of others, responsive to the community she has immersed herself in with every Remy particle, unified and stolid. The immutable, immoveable parts of Remy are of equal importance: her ethics, her diligence and responsibility, her kindness and inclusiveness, her constancy, her sixth sense ability to provide cheer or encouragement at the precise second it is needed, her forgiveness.  “Like the sophomore girls,” writes a classmate, “I look to her for advice and wise counsel.” Also steadfast is her commitment to excellence in her schoolwork, where she can parse Moliere, Maupassant, or historical movements, Van Meergeren or Toni Morrison with equal engagement and precision. Remy is gold in the seminar circle, where she poses bold questions, responds to others in perceptive ways, pushes discussion in new directions. She has also pushed herself and her boundaries, way out there now, taking in High Sierra trails and glacier lakes, a broader and deeper definition of community, a belief in “now” living, a fully animated idea of leadership lived every day. “Humor, charm, sweetness, honesty, kindness, intelligence, forgiveness, caring, loveliness, grace”—the list of what Remy possesses comes from her peers. From the shyest 8^th grade applicant on tour to the entire senior bleacher section in a packed gym, Remy has her fans. “Thunderous cheering and applause flooded the gym and deafening chants of “Re-my, Re-my!” recalls a teammate. I have never heard the spectators make so much noise for one person, and in that moment, it was obvious to me how loved she is by everyone at Thacher.” Bye Bye Bye? We’re completely in sync that those are three words we are very sad to say to Remy.

Claire Elizabeth Frykman

Comfort zone? As foreign a concept to Claire as creating a sonic representation of Dante’s Inferno in electronic music would be to you or me. Claire lives for exploration, whether by nature or nurture, throwing her arms wide, welcoming the risks as well as the rewards that adventure brings. The world of ideas is one place she happily heads into with boldness born of self-confidence, choosing the unpredictable route in and unearthing all kinds of treasure. Give her a table laden with synthetic geometry, any literary text, a human anatomy or marine biology lab problem, and she’ll choose one of each, nibble politely at first, then finish the whole, fulfilling the motto, “Eat first, ask questions later.” Claire’s writing is compelling and fresh, her perspective on literature, historical events, and those more current informed by knowledge and awareness. As for her Chinese, it is fluent and precise, as natural as if she’d somehow been born and raised simultaneously on both sides of the Pacific, here and there. “There” is where Claire spent last year, knocking the mujis off her School Year Abroad teachers and peers with her academic performance, sincere congeniality, perpetual engagement, and sense of responsibility and endearing herself to her host family. Chinese calligraphy, taiji quan and erhu, the streets of Beijing and paths winding through the mountains outside a small rural village—all provided sustenance to Claire’s culturally omnivorous appetite. Growth is not just something you measure on a doorjamb, though: Claire brought both her old self (silly, fun, whipsmart, curious) and her new one (mature, traveled, worldly) back to Thacher, only to keep spiraling upward. Outside hitting or middle blocking, clearing the soccer ball down field, gazelling over hurdles in record-shattering time, mother-henning 10^th grade girls, arpeggioing across cello strings, spreading bright ideas and kindness like lotus blossoms. Yes, we know they curl, brown, and wither. But what rich compost they become—Claire’s way of guarding Thacher’s future for the next generation.

Katharine Keene Gifford

If she didn’t already have one, Spunk would be Katharine’s middle name. How does she maintain the gusto she does for all the crannies and nooks and wide-open spaces of Thacher she lives in? We think Katharine has, like, maybe extra energy makers inside her that combine with her wide-eyed, often loud, nearly always boisterous excitement for whatever’s going on in the moment. It might be another Indoor Committee dance, a dress-up-to-get-pumped dodgeball game between Casa and the Hill, a morning taking the U.S. National Olympiad test in chemistry; it could be a careful look at the physics of curved space, a class on derivatives of exponential functions or one on US interventions in Latin America (en español), or a new way to keep the fire going and the attitude positive in the frigid Maine cabin she’s living in for the semester “abroad.” Or a lacrosse game, in which she’s the absolute defensive leader, imperturbable and uncanny in her ability to read the best angle to track an attacker with, when to slide or double-team.  “She plays a very smart game,” a coach nods. Yet Katharine can get downright irrational about the importance of the irrationality of number e. All this pizzazz, and Katherine’s got her feet firmly on the ground from which, says a friend, “she radiates confidence with every step.” She does not fluster or fret, but somehow keeps everything that she does in balance, creating for all who watch her a model of passion and perspective in masterful equilibrium—critical to colt-starting or Toad-starting. Katherine also knows that an ounce of prevention is worth a boatload of cure, and in tending to responsibilities now, she guarantees herself time and space for the other goodies, a place where a good time gets had by all. One younger student wrote of Katharine, “She will never let you down; she has helped me soooo much this year! I don’t know what I would do without her good advice.” Soooooo much of Katharine’s life is about teamwork, about giving back, about fulfilling, almost without thought and surely without expectation of notice, the expectation of service to others that was central to the vision Mr. Thacher had for his graduates. We’d bet our last Oriental Trading Company sombrero that he’d have seriously considered coeducation if, a century ago, Katharine had shown up on the doorstep of old CdeP.

Paige Elizabeth Gribb

“Singing, singing, she is always singing,” writes a Paige fan, even when she’s not. Partly, it’s the influence of the six languages she knows, which occasionally tangle up each other (making a seventh, all her own) and are subtly indicated, even in her native English. Partly, it’s the gioia di vivere that imbues her actions, her words, her whole upbeat and up-tempo approach to life. With Paige, you know, prontissimo, that you are in the company of someone hugely hungry for more and different, a quality that propelled her, among other adventures, to study in Italy last year. Paige is always a step ahead in her “Aha!” moments, which come with the regularity and force of onshore storm waves; she is always synthesizing and/or analyzing. “Her inferences,” wrote one teacher, “are as complex as our authors’ implications. And without the least self-consciousness, Paige is incapable of writing a tedious sentence.” And, observation proves, incapable of being anything other than probing, scintillating, intuitive, proactive in her learning, insistently inquisitive. If Paige did nothing but enliven our classrooms with her energy, passion, and smarts, it might be sufficient, so potent a force is she there. But her zeal for all kinds of pursuits has placed her prominently in virtually every area of school life where we hear her voice—as an activist, a writer, a leader. What daunts others in scope or intensity (essays, labs, exams, college applications, Senior Exhibitions, too much to do in too little time) leaves Paige unruffled. It might be those headstands in yoga, but she takes everything in stride—or, more truthfully, skip, jump, or hop. Miniature “Welcome back” candy bars for the dorm, Twister during munch-outs, the posture of “I have time for you,” perfectly groomed draft horses, dollars raised to support a women’s collective in Afghanistan—Paige leaves her mark in ways small and mega. Which turns megawatt when Paige takes to stage. Her pure soprano merges with sheer delight in the magic of musical theater—and Jojo leaps to life. “It’s possible,” Paige crooned in a key Seussical refrain—leaving us, knowing Paige, only to insert an “all” in the middle.

Henry Charles Lea Hancock

Charles is a long-range thinker. He envisions what is possible tomorrow, next week, a year from now, and then sets willingly, happily to the tasks that, once completed, will lead to the end he seeks. His not-so-secret weapons: self-discipline and preparation, natural resourcefulness and diligence. Charles’s critical thinking can be sharp, especially when honed on the strop of collaboration with peers also pursuing greater understanding. Charles sustains such give-and-take with pleasure, hearing his own voice grow more forceful and convincing, taking his rightful place at the table. Add to that the blessing of “an astounding visual memory, plus self-discipline, growing interest, and confidence,” and we have in Charles gourmet recipe for growth and leadership. Especially in Art History, where he remembers images introduced months ago, “he can make wonderful, original, insightful, and appropriate connections.” He never quits as he pursues the skills that give him more and more satisfaction in his academic life. At the very center of Charles sits both moral clarity and an unshakeable belief in Thacher’s essential principles. And around him, gathered close, teachers and students, same-age and smuts, who are the beneficiaries of his kind spirit, his open mind, his unwavering respect of others, and his ready smile. Also part of the tribe: two sisters who may tease him a tad, but who essentially worship the ground his size 13 feet walk on. From table to tennis court or rock wall, venues where he applies tenacity and grit in the positive advancement of both the personal and the communal, Charles goes with intention and purpose belied by his apparent easy-goingness. A quartet of friends’ voices sing about his essential and enduring good nature: “When he smiles, I can’t help but be happy.” “Charles is so much fun to be around.” “Have you ever heard Charles say anything mean?” “Charles is quirky delight.” Though this last makes him sound like a Saturday morning smoothie, which he’d guzzle with gusto, we’ve got to agree.

Maximilian Newton Hoffman

Under one straw hat (changed for a sombrero at Fiesta Time!), so much to love: inventiveness (he coins new phrases daily), tuning-fork responsiveness to the requirements of the moment (when to be serious, when to warn about sharks in the pool), mindfulness, a heart pumping out nothing but good will.  Now, if Max had the mic, he’d riff on hearts and blood, oh! and BTW, the Bloodmobile’s coming, “So get out there and give!” How can we not roll up our sleeves and open our veins? In writing about him, classmates note as first and foremost the humor that’s as natural and necessary to Max as breathing: “He is probably the funniest guy I know.” “I cannot remember ever having a bad experience with this kid. Just hearing his name can make anyone smile, because they know what’s associated with it: fun-loving, carefree, a genuine goofball.” Though it’s sharp-witted, there’s no edge to Max’s bark: he means always to help, to soften, and to elevate. He may be light-hearted, but Max is also principled and completely sure of who he is. He creates his life with studious intentionally: in his classes, he matches intelligence with diligence, and is counted on: “It would be a great loss to all of us if Max were not in this class,” wrote one teacher, with a nod to the value Max adds when he walks through the door. He’s well-prepared, diplomatic, and quick on his dock-sidered feet—in a debate, raising tall ship sails or hauling anchor, at the whiteboard solving a math problem, leading a Community Council meeting, or addressing the faculty or Board. The guy can quip and quote quick-draw fast. A nose bloodied in a Rescue Race, a muscle pulled in a midfield soccer play, vocal cords ragged after all that revving up Orange Crush, or that falsetto (the wig’s another story), or left-brain/right-brain dialogue: all are small prices to pay for being a key player at the epicenter of Thacher no-lull life. From a friend: “When I first met Max, he asked to me, ‘What can I do for you? I want you to be happy here, my job is to make sure you're always happy.’ Then he said, "You know what? I have a feeling that we will be great friends!’ and we did. And I'm sure all of Max's friends can agree that it's been a blessing to have met someone like him.” All of Max’s friends? That’s kids at Smart Start, everyone here, many who aren’t, and a whole lot yet to meet this one in a million Max.

Trent Chase Holden

What you see isn’t always what you get, and we’re not just talkin’ superheroes. In Trent’s case, his coaches see the mental clarity that combines with fearlessness and physical toughness to make of him a valuable football fullback and linebacker, a solid lacrosse midfielder, and a scrappy nascent hoopster. His classroom teachers see earnest curiosity, insightfulness, intellectual energy, a consistent work ethic, and a blossoming strength of opinion—of the implications in a particular statistic or leadership style, in a chunk of literary text (regular or graphic), or in the global financial meltdown. His teammates see his tenacity, how he rises to challenges that others might take as impossible and that he welcomes as ways to expand himself and his world. His many adoring friends see, as one wrote, “a guy who’s super cool—and the sitting-down stand-up comedian of our class.” A raised eyebrow above a perfectly straight face makes for the zing in the zinger—though there’s not an unkind bone in his body. Behind all this, is also someone who has invested in church mission trips, one this summer to Honduras; who once heroically played mega-magnanimous tooth fairy to his little sister ($20 from his own piggy bank); who shot 10,000 baskets during the summer months, investing hours so as to be ready to join a team he’d never played on; and, most crucially for our school, who traded a predictable, no doubt easy-A academic path for the daily demands of Thacher, a challenge intensified by a commute that, given the minute-by-minute schedule changes we all know well, can turn into several round-trips daily. In these activities, Trent shows how steadfast he is, and how blessed with exceptional equanimity for the long haul. Says a faculty member, “He just takes everything in stride.” When we add the seen to the behind-the-seen, we witness the whole of Trent, implied in a snippet from a coach’s report: “He knows where to be at all times; he’s as committed as anyone to this team.” Being where you need to be may be 90% of success, but it’s that other piece—the promise implied in commitment—that guarantees both the pleasure and the satisfaction. As he leaves this school, Trent leaves much more behind than just a pair of bronzed cut-offs.

Iona Marie Hughan

Iona, an island off the western coast of Scotland: tranquil but rugged, a destination (for many) providing inspiration and spiritual connection, home to colorful gardens, green-streaked marble, a small village. Iona, this one: tranquil, even as she hikes along a Sierra trail taking in the scenery and simultaneously trying to read A Clockwork Orange—or intense, depending on whether she’s sorting through a Latin translation or rallying the bench in a heated volleyball match. Providing inspiration? Only in about a hundred ways that look effortless but cannot possibly be: as a top-flight scholar who has moved into and out of each academic discipline with rare grace and humility; as a model of faithful service to others who need food or a new roof, confidence on the back of a horse, a love note or flower, just a dollop of affection; as an original thinker who can also quarry for the best evidence, then carve and polish it to glinting brilliance; as a calm, rational voice in the din of dissention or argument; as what a faculty member called “the moral center of the class”; as a fierce competitor and loyal teammate in volleyball and quick-sticks lacrosse; as a mentor around whom younger students and peers gather like islets and skerries. All this, and the twinkle in the knowing eye, noted by one friend this way: “Iona has the wittiest sense of humor I’ve ever known. She is kind at heart, but does not mind poking fun at you if she knows you can take it! There is no one more worthy of my respect than someone who enjoys a good laugh.” What another calls “the sweetest heart” attends the laughter, and selflessly reaches out in real ways to let us all know we are not merely observed, but actually tended to. “Her mind is remarkable,” writes a friend, “in how it absorbs and performs, but it cannot compete with her heart. She gives so much love, expecting little in return. She connects with those lost and broken, and brings them back.” To borrow from Rilke’s Moving Forward, “the deep parts of [your] life now pour onward/ as if the river shores were opening out.” We know that for this Iona—by which we mean ours—such openings will come as naturally as Hebrides hillsides greening in April.

Nicholas Hwang

Does anyone seem to have as much unadulterated fun in his life as Nick? He sniffs it out or makes it up whole cloth. Basic ingredients: a guitar, some friends; m&ms and sunshine help but are not strictly necessary. “Life needs to be interesting,” claims another senior, and Nick makes sure it is. You can be sure that where Nick is, something out of the ordinary will follow.” Interesting and fun don’t always just happen, not an all-School scale, though; behind the smile and relaxed personality is a workhorse ready to pull in the traces to get it done just right.  “It” is whatever idea Nick and his Indoor Committee co-heads have thought through with a spot-on sense of what will fly and what won’t—and with the inventiveness and charisma to make it go. Thinking through is also a hallmark of Nick-as-student, where workhorse joins with horsepower of the mental variety—“superbright,” as one teacher called Nick’s brand of smarts. Physics, Chinese, French, mathematics, forensic psychology, history, computer programming, or English (his third language) at the college-level—Nick prepares, participates, and produces in a way that’s anything but easy-going, holding himself to a lofty standard he will not compromise. Nick’s success may appear breezily won, but we know it takes an absolute, undeviating work ethic to every subject to accrue the across-the-board record he has achieved, both in England and here. True, too, on the football field and track—where Nick is a passionate, speedy competitor—or a hiking trail along the Kern River or spur-of-the-moment Spring Sing pit band: he aims to be of use, to advance the group agenda, to make the difference between good and great, not just for himself but for everyone. A classmate says, “Nick has a huge heart. He does not often ask the customary ‘How are you?’—but when he does, he is truly asking how you are, not just saying the words. He cares about people and demonstrates it time and again.” That time has been too brief, but we’ll take what we can, crossing our fingers that the “again” comes around real soon.

Lauren Elizabeth Joseph

The best photojournalists not only see the world with a unique vision but document what they witness an eye to the story that each element will tell: the texture and color, the choice of detail or scope, the focal point. In her portraits and other multi-media pieces, in her essays, in how she participates in classroom conversations and those more casually around the dining room table or Pergola, Lauren finds the story she wishes to tell, locates her specifics as patiently as a photographer searches for dust specks, and allows her artistic sensibilities to infuse all of it with elegance and vividness. Her work—and her play—reflect both the painstaking deliberateness and the unfiltered exuberance of a true artist. Although she typically deflects praise from teachers and schoolmates, Lauren can’t help that she inspires it nonetheless, and as her academic courses have grown more complex, so has her intellect strengthened, her opinions sharpened, and her ability to hold forth knowledgeably and comfortably, even in front of an standing room only Senior Exhibition crowd, bloomed. Dedicated to the craft of writing as much as to studio art, Lauren listens attentively to her fellow writers as they respond to her pieces and read theirs, her feedback to them reliably thoughtful and generous. The same fine traits inform her leadership style, where Lauren’s warmth, thoughtfulness, and approachability render her an effective and adored go-to big sister in Middle School. Yet not only in these ways is Lauren hitting her stride: she’s a mainstay worker-bee—more important to her than being queen, which she cannot help but be—on campus social events practically every weekend, putting her warm enthusiasm and exquisite artistry to use designing imaginative witches’ dens and snowflake hallways that add spook and sparkle to community shenanigans. In her off hours—we dare you find any of them in Lauren’s rich life—she ties invisible wings to her feet and takes to the hurdles. In three short years, Lauren has come into her own in dazzling ways. Shine on!

Shawheen Keyani

Shawn has done a lot of translating in his short life. We speak not only of English to Farsi and back to English, but of the kind posed by acculturation—the figuring out, at a young age, of all that business another senior would call non-discursive communication. Three years ago, Shawn landed in a school where he was required to shovel manure and saddle up a horse (oh, and ride it), change in five minutes from athletic or climbing gear to coat-and-tie, write—and type, with a foreign keyboard—analytical essays, finish homework for multiple classes each night, and make sense of why people were calling him—and everyone else—Toads. It is to Shawn’s great credit that any puzzlement he had three years ago has been packed away and abandoned to the basement of Upper School. In its place, Zen full-focus (his term) on demand, spiffied up study habits and ratcheted up self-discipline, a honed eye for subtext in literature or historical events—all of which have given Shawn the space to explore his passions and proclivities, to excavate his creative abilities, to perfect his 50-50 Caspers and Half-Cab Impossibles, to make a full body leap on the Street Justice boulder, and to kick-flip his way into our affections. Shawn cheerfully puts his board away when the keyboard calls (classical and jazz, solo or band) or when there’s a rock climbing or fly-fishing trip in the offing. (The taste of campfire cooked trout tacos may, at some future date, be Shawn’s madeleine.) It all gets back-burnered, though, for the chance to make a film. “Spend five minutes with Shawn,” declared one friend, “an you’ll understand how talented he is.” Watch his Senior Exhibition to know why Shawn quoted Thoreau’s “the world is but a canvas to our imagination”— in his documentaries, he reveals a concrete world full of life or a legendary move to the Courts, “frustrating frenzies,” audacious, vibrant art drawn in air, wheels and bodies spinning and rolling. Little would surprise us about the Shawn yet-to-be, now that we’ve seen what he’s capable of. We only hope he won’t boardslide his diploma down the Lower Field steps.

Tae Soo “Tom” Kim

TK knows when to move with apparently reckless abandon—around a football field as cornerback, down the basketball court, on a gymkhana race course with Uno (both satiated on cinnamon Pop Tarts)—and when to sit patiently, to work with quiet concentration, to practice methodically, finally to arrive at the most satisfying result, whether it’s an essay on Hamlet or a calculus problem. Actually, the first is never wholly reckless: like a long throw from left field or second base to home plate, TK’s moves are backed by appropriate caution and his sensible wagering on invisible but calculable odds. “Tom combines aggressiveness with good judgment—and he’s smart” is how one coach put it. It takes that—plus hustle, heart, and practice—to be a career leader on the basketball court. TK does the math, even when he’s not doing math—or computer science or Java and engineering, or English, for that matter. Happy acting independently, TK is also a wonderful and welcome collaborator, whether the others are human or digital: the computer-player that “learned” how to make increasingly better decisions in TK’s Blackjack simulation probably esteems TK as much as the others in the class, for his ingenuity as much as for his doggedness. With characteristic modesty, TK gives credit back to the teacher—and to his schoolmates for pushing him to further and further reaches of his intellectual potential. Trustworthy, highly coachable, and unselfish, TK extends a strong hand to others—helping a peer or younger student with a squirrelly issue and, miles away, volunteering in a tutoring program for North Korean refugees. What goes around comes around, TK believes, adding the value of reciprocity to a long list of principles he holds dear and activates daily in his life: optimism, perseverance, wholehearted effort, and balance. TK religiously leaves time for friendship—his smile, returned always in the faces of those he meets, like balm to the soul. Why are we here? he once asked in a Senior Quotation. He knew the answer: to make a difference in the lives of others. With TK, that’s something we can actually measure—no long odds at all.

Wade Hampton King

A daringly creative spirit moves in Hampton like an underground river: he cannot resist its force, and in what springs from it, we catch a glimpse of true originality. Well-read, widely philosophical, Hampton brings those around him in the circle of learning, including his teachers, to completely new ways of seeing a Yeats’ poem or a particular probability setting. His critical thinking, uniquely spectacular in itself, logically brings him to equally one-of-a-kind interpretations—and all boats lift on the tide of his persuasive argument. His voice never fails to draw our attention—just listen as he explains the concept of blindsight and intuition. Independent of coursework, Hampton can call himself “musician” and “writer”; he is ardent about both arts. In the latter, his small pieces and longer ones are of various genres, and are endlessly, prolifically forthcoming. Good news for us that a tantalizing several of his ideas find expression in the larger community in yet another shape: film. His dorm’s open house masterful video announcement could have been an Academy nominee for its content, form, hilarity, wit, and pure storytelling genius. In such a package, Hampton’s prodigious, multifaceted intelligence meets technical know-how (he also knows his way around a sound board and stage), and everyone’s on their feet laughing, cheering. But happy isn’t the only aim: Hampton is quite clear about his desire for those who call Thacher home to live, always, the examined life. He knows well how to lead others into necessary discourse on what really matters, the bedrock values that, not properly maintained, could cause a community to crumble at the edges. His door is always open for anyone wishing to do some mind yoga. Again, he uses his clear voice to propel others into thoughtfulness and action. Hampton is indisputably his own drummer, not exactly marching to the beat he himself creates, but changing up his stride to suit his temperament of the moment, to take in the scenery he’s passing, to comment on it to those around him, then move ahead with purpose and intentionality.

Nicholas Iyer Kohli

The Kohli-formerly-known-as-Nick—has given us more than the typical share of surprises that come from four years of boy-to-man growth. We’ll only glance at the obvious—Manhattan street vendors to Ruben’s, skyscrapers to this quiet corner of the Ojai—to focus on other examples. The bookends might be these: on one side, the Paddy-Kohli partnership that went from unguided missile to the glories of ring-spearing and sack racing in a relative few months. On the other, the zero-training or experience cross-country phenom who so quickly learned the folly of sprinting the first mile that he ended the season at third on California’s Division V 4^th place team. In between these, others that have proven Kohli’s stamina, resilience, multiple aptitudes. What doesn’t surprise us at all are the constants about Kohli: his perennial good humor, his dedication to working hard always, his belief that what matters in life ultimately is what you, and you alone, make of the gifts you’ve got. “Most Improved” is a natural outcome. With talent that takes in the sciences and math as well as for the humanities, Kohli is a welcome sight in any classroom. His discernment is quick, and he’s comfortable offering the divergent view, once he’s spotted and analyzed it well. Presentations are his forte, because his research is thorough and he’s comfortable on his feet.  His math mind may allow him a more comprehensive understanding of, say health care options, but only because his brain is so firmly tethered to his heart, which insists on always including the human in the argument. The economics of anything embraces the people. Which brings us back to sports. “Loyal” is too paltry a word to describe Kohli’s Yankees-love—but it’s Thacher’s good luck that he saves plenty for his other home-town team—the Toads. Turning weekly athletics announcements into works of oratory is one thing; it’s another to keep stats, dole out uniforms, blister another pitch across the plate, leap over and over for rebounds, block and block, and stamp your name on the victory. Whatever franchise Kohli is ultimately a part of, we hope he’ll remember: he was on our team first.

Austin James Krause

Full-bore is the only gear Austin knows. Pursuing an especially complicated physics concept, a multilayered poem, a perfectly landed long jump, or the most efficacious run down a football field or basketball court, Austin coalesces energy, drive, innate athleticism, and uncompromising dedication. As a result, under Austin’s resolve and sense of purpose, these and other challenges yield as a vein of Wyoming jade would to an eager prospector, several school, league, and personal records like so many gems gently clinking in his pockets. Austin simply does not hold back, nor does he concede any ground in his singular pursuit of excellence. But it’s not for self: in the example he sets and the sheer pleasure he takes in the whole endeavor, Austin incentivizes others and elevates the play of everyone around him. We do not mean only on gridiron: Austin’s personal relationships, both one-on-one and with the Thacher family more broadly, are bound up in this quality. Enthusiasm for group endeavor puts him in pirate dress and into the role of MC at a lip-sync contest, and mature responsibility keeps him late after the event, shoveling up the blizzard of paper snowflakes, taking down the last shreds of crepe paper, boxing the decorations and schlepping them to the closet. Although his grin can illuminate even the darkest corners and his purple octopus gets others into blazing smiles, Austin’s greatest gift is in the steady light he sheds on the beauty that emerges when the individual and the communal intertwine. It’s spelled t-e-a-m, and Austin’s devotion to it is fierce, whether expressed around an oval seminar table, in the Admission Office, or in the more typical sports venues. In all this, tough and tenacious grow together with kind, supportive, and accessible to make something stronger than either set of qualities solo. Austin knows, wrote one of his coaches, that “effort equals outcome”—and he has so consistently exerted the former that the latter is a done deal. While we know that the laurels will keep piling up over Austin’s broad, muscular shoulders, we hope that whatever rushing he does in the future will include returning to Thacher, post-haste.

Morgan Wood Krey

Gymkhana 2010. No, Morgan isn’t flying around one horse or another for the Green Team. He’s lugging barrels and running scores to the fieldhouse. On his belt, a holstered knife (unsnapped just in case), a blue ribbon he’s holding for his sister, a shiny PTS buckle. He’s wearing the Number 8 vest, a baseball cap backwards, signature shades. “You can’t do it all,” he shrugs, grinning and clapping you on the shoulder. True, perhaps—at least not without cloning yourself—though Morgan might try that one day, and in the meantime, he’ll do all that he can to do everything that he can. . . The Thacher experience is like one big, juicy Ruben’s Thacher-steak to Morgan, and while it may get messy going down, he’s going to eat most of it—and share some with you, because that’s what big brothers do. Very little falls outside of Morgan’s want-to-do/can-do experience. Start with academics: talent and achievement can serve as buzzwords for Morgan’s four years in classrooms, where commanding analytical ability, far-reaching observational aptitude, and dedicated scholarship take Morgan beyond assumptions and predictabilities, yet keep him at the center of discussion. His encouragement to his classmates’ grumbling about the difficulty of the topic of acid-base equilibria in AP Chem: "Think of pH as buried treasure. You're the pirate. Just go dig it up!" Next, athletics and the horses and outdoors: smart and effective on the offensive line, defending (or coaching) in lacrosse, sweeping and shoveling alongside others, heading camping trips with most of the group gear in his pack. Leadership involves visualizing the big picture even as you note each detail. You can’t pick a hoof or a clay pigeon without that part-to-whole acuity. On to other extra-curriculars that aren’t extra at all: building scenery, hanging backdrops, moving barbecues hither and yon. No work is scut work for Morgan, and he does every lick of it with graciousness, maturity, integrity—and an eye to how it will benefit his school. There was an ellipsis back there that we’d wager Morgan probably caught. “—to do all that he can. . . ‘til the best he can do is all done.” We expect that Morgan will enjoy making just that his life’s work.

Alexander Stewart Macmillan

Leave the spotlight for someone else: Alex isn’t interested in it. Because he’s kind, though, he’ll indulge us these few moments. Alex has earned his place here with a humble dedication to many worthy pursuits—even if right now, he’d rather be jogging up Horn Canyon. A hunger for adventure—of mind, body, and spirit—bestirs Alex to mountains, craggy and snow-covered; to the hills of cross-country courses or of Los Padres trails; to the pounding Atlantic and the cresting Pacific; to any place where he can grapple with others over philosophical, political, literary, or cultural ideas and issues, or make good music with them. He sees that wrestling as a way to strengthen muscles of thought and to braid more powerful ropes of connection, even as he stands tall in his own beliefs. “He is the most supportive—and insightful—friend,” a classmate admires, “naturally kind and honest.” The human experience, for Alex, takes in worlds far beyond Thacher, but he understands that without tending to the local (human, vegetable, mineral) with thoughtfulness and practiced responsibility, we cannot hope to have an impact on the global. Hardly surprising that Alex is one of our composting activists, who doesn’t just beat the bucket for action but also does the behind-the-scenes dirty work necessary to make this little world go round. His commitment is absolute. So is it in his academic pursuits, which he takes as daily opportunities to know more. Although he has his favorites in the humanities, Alex sees all of his learning as valuable, and treats it, his teachers and classmates with genuine respect. Teammates, camping and skiing comrades, coaches, too: though admired by one as a “mistake-free player with incredible athletic ability,” we’d guess Alex cherishes even more the relationships that begin with his work ethic, go to results that inspire others, and end in mutual esteem. His love of the outdoors is a crooning to rock and tree—“You’ve really got a hold on me”—an embrace to which Alex brings awe and absolute devotion (and his camera). Stopping to pick up minute bits of trash on the trail is Alex’s way of paying respect, no less and no more than stopping to take in vista. We wish for Alex these words of Chris McCandless, and expect for him no less: “an endlessly changing horizon, each day to have a new and different sun.”

Samuel Anthony Meyer

Wherever there is music, Sam is. It’s hard to remember when his warm, wide-ranging tenor wasn’t a part of the music of our sphere—as it’s impossible to imagine Thacher without it, addicted as we are now to that dopamine his singing releases in us. From New York’s Mohawk Valley, he came three years ago, leaving the skates behind, but packing, along with the voice, an eagerness for challenge and exploration. From that first downbeat to this moment, Sam has generated and nurtured a growing crescendo in his academics, made of superior note-taking, flawless attention to detail, and extensive engagement of an ear for those motifs that will combine to create the most convincing argument—on paper, behind a Senior Exhibition lectern, or in a rollicking discussion. And convincing becomes conversion when Sam becomes Marius, Nicely Nicely Johnson, Cedric, or, extending himself beyond the human realm and into the pachyderm, Horton. The breadth of parts is a believability test Sam welcomes, knowing that his versatility and range will expand with each one. A Broadway pro couldn’t pull off the variety of roles Sam has—because he or she wouldn’t be doing the notoriously demanding C de P Balancing Act (and the screeching fire alarm in the theatre during his first big show). Sam, who believes that if you can walk, you can dance (and, of course, its inevitable corollary about talking and singing), trusts his capacity for playing friend, adored shepherd, horse-leader, student, entertainer, and artist because he’s done each multiple times. Sensitive enough to hear those hollering Whos or inflections in a Korean pop song, brave enough to go to bat for those whose voices aren’t yet as confident as his own, willing to listen to others talk as he is to walk the walk—well, as a friend asked, “What does Sam not have? The voice, an amazing, captivating personality, a caring, sweet heart, and, after last year’s Battle of the Bands, groupies from other schools waiting to talk with him, like bees on flowers.” Nothing on our tongues but hallelujah, Sam, that the I am you are came our way to stay, even for a time Whooishly tiny. The show will go on, but we haven’t a clue as to how.

Sean Redmond Ongley

Up before 0600, to bed after the stroke of midnight, Sean has led a life devoted to squeezing the most out of his Thacher education. He has put a spit-polish shine on areas of strength and interest—history and government, global leadership, psychology, and human geography in the academic arena, and football, basketball, rock climbing, and baseball in the athletic. The lessons of strategy and technique learned over time and in the company of adults and peers held in mutual respect and emulation have joined forces with some obvious natural talents—those unteachable qualities of speed and agility, for example—to make Sean a versatile, flexible player and an increasingly good student: “very sharp in class,” a teacher wrote recently, he has been successful in both studying the idea of the evolutionary path—and in taking his very own, through subjects demanding much of him, over and over. Ruthless discipline also keeps Sean lifting those weights and running, running, running to train for what’s ahead each season; add the love of teamwork and you have the hallmarks of Sean’s athletic pursuits. While he’s notched several successes as a tackler in the backfield, as well as on the basketball court, it is afternoons spent on the baseball diamond or in the bullpen that Sean prizes most highly. For four springs, his devotion, understated sense of fun, delight in camaraderie, and old-fashioned skill have made him a valued and integral element in the chemistry down on Bard Field. He’ll do whatever he can to help the team—a term that takes on bigger meaning when you discover that Sean takes his time and energy to places beyond Thacher’s gates—to retirement homes and Ojai’s recreation center, where he has worked with younger kids, as well as larger, farther reaching organizations such as the International Rescue Committee. This demonstrates his eagerness to connect the dots of local and global. The path of military service Sean has chosen will, of course, entail many more early morning wake-ups, as well as the fortitude called for when the physical and emotional bucket is empty. But Sean can trust that the depth of character this will take is his. He owns it, and from it, he will make his mark.

Nicholas Reddick Orr

That is one firm handshake. Attended by a look-you-in-the-eye directness, it implies a straight shooter, self-confident and sincere. All true about Nick—but there’s so much more. First, Nick is nothing if not sunny-dispositioned. He may be chill, but it’s an actively droll, good-humored sort; he’s the first to laugh and the longest laughing. And if you tend toward the negative, he’ll be the first to convince you, empirical evidence and the support of the universe on his side, that the glass is, indeed, half-full. Second, the guy is a master of the specifics, dubbed “Mr. Detail” by one of his teachers for his velcroesque recall of factual material, from the Great Depression to All The Pretty Horses to Deibenkorn. Third, he takes the facts, treats each as an individual tree and yet helps you see the whole forest by engaging in vigorous dialogue—but not without (fourth) his wit, which leavens any and every atmosphere he’s part of (e.g., his promise of palm fronds, fine fruit, and a masseuse in exchange help with the final step of his A-camper rating trip.) Fifth and sixth, his ambition and drive, and his persistence, which, when combined with first through fourth, make him a valued part of any class or lab, discussion circle, or collaborative project. Seventh—lucky seventh for the many beneficiaries—is his adamant belief in service to others. Nick takes Mr. Thacher’s “greatest good” notion to the n^th degree, working perpetually and selflessly on projects well beyond those works-in-progress of LP dorm. Under Nick’s salutary influence are many: the developmentally disabled, the elderly and infirm, and the homeless. He also oversees the whole program to enable other students to do their own brands of good. The eighth of that “much more” is in Nick’s unfiltered, unabashed love of all things physical—soccer and tennis, but most passionately, the outdoors. He’s been on more miles of trails and more adamantine cliff faces, down more snowy slopes off-piste, in more curling wave-tubes, national parks, and backcountry campsites than most in attendance today. He has lived off the land and in it, with reverence and respect. No more counting; back to the handshake. Nick’s is firm because the muscles therein are sinewy and strong by good use—and because, the body being expressed connectivity, they’re attached, ultimately, to a heart more powerful than a spring tide at Faria Beach.

Eun Min “Julie” Park

“Have you looked at the sky?” Julie asks. Nope—we’re too busy. Compared to Julie, though, we’re standing still. The implication is as clear as her lovely soprano voice: noting the beauty of this place, “sitting still among these rocks” and people is as important as anything else she’s involved in. Julie tends many metaphoric gardens—dethorning roses for a Valentine’s Day fundraiser (for Haiti and Gaza relief and panda preservation), rehearsing her part as one of the Hot Box Girls in Guys and Dolls or as the Mrs. Mayor in Seussical, organizing a Model U.N. chapter or a birthday party, putting together a yearbook, lending an ear to a friend or younger student in distress, cajoling Toadbloggers or seniors late for a yearbook deadline, shooting hoops or hopping in community service vans to warble to the elderly or make baking soda volcanoes with little tykes, singing on our stage and at choral festivals elsewhere, completing her own voluminous schoolwork with an unflagging sense of both discovery and responsibility—busyness never feels like business, even though she’s perpetually getting plenty of that done.  The tireless Julie has an attitude of  “Why sleep?  You can dream awake.” Her dreams aren’t of the sleepytime variety, though. They are active, kaleidoscopic, color-drenched visions of an expanded self in a world broadened by her influence. Julie has always wanted more and she is unafraid of going after it: on campus, the collective endeavor of analyzing literature in a room with eclectic viewpoints, a wide variety of mind-bending academic courses where curiosity and intellectual hunger can find satiation; outside of Thacher, activism via the Ojai Valley Land Conservancy, the North East Asia Youth Environment Network, and South Korea’s Global Enterprise Challenge. Sounds so serious, and is when need be. But Julie is goofy and fun-loving, nothing miniature about her laugh or her Lady Gaga arms talking back to riders behind. A friend writes, “What would we do if Julie weren’t around to brighten our days?” A nod from another: “Julie’s the type of person that you can spend all day with, yet never get tired of or stop having fun.” We second that motion with a “Yopp!” very loudly; hand Julie her sheepskin, and send her off proudly.

Min Young “Trudy” Park

It takes zero time to arrive at consensus among Trudy’s teachers and peers: attitude + effort + determination X brilliance at the molecular level = a first-rate student. Her name on your class roster means you are in for a treat: she brings an imaginative approach to the subject (every subject), she seeks nothing less than full understanding, answers questions and problems with innovative thinking, and with a mind like a trap, she snaps at complex constructs and conundrums, snaring everything that wanders by or tries to run. Her interest and engagement does not flag, even when the going gets tough; she thrives on the challenge, scrambling over boulders like a mountain goat in her element, gently bleating at others in her herd to come along. That encouragement and support is behind the Math Club’s going from zero to sixty, and volunteer options and numbers increasing dramatically—service being an essential part of Trudy’s sense of self. Also central, her music—singing and composing. As an ensemble member, Trudy blends with unusual sensitivity to the voices weaving with hers, T’s, S’s, or Mr. Meyer’s and the other CommServ Singers; as a soloist, blend flies out the back seat and belting takes the wheel, Trudy’s sure voice drive-drive-driving the audience backwards in surprise and appreciation. As a recording artist, she creates a link between her songs and her giving, proceeds from her CD supporting a mission in the Philippines. What we also appreciate, beyond the given—“that she’s smart, considerate, hard working, high-achieving, passionate and compassionate, mature, and polite” (to mix what a faculty member and a friend wrote about Trudy)—is that she “completely understands how to have a great time,” the full extent of her humor known to a select and fortunate few, most of whom have enjoyed watching her tuck into Rubens, Ojai Pizza, and Korean barbecue. A true global citizen with her eyes on—just maybe?—leading the World Health Organization some day, “Trudy is” writes a dorm-mate, “always open to learning about what she does not comprehend.” Open-hearted, open-minded. We’ll bake one last TrudyCake in honor of that.

Sarina Chetan Patel

“If there’s a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet,” maintains Toni Morrison, “then you must write it.” Hold the fanfare, but Sarina did that several projects ago. A restless, daring intelligence reveals itself whenever Sarina offers to the dialogue a professorial-quality comment or translation, reads one of her works aloud, comments thoughtfully on others’ poetry and prose, or even just sighs. “Perhaps her keen intelligence and comprehension of literally everything that goes on around her,” a friend conjectures, “is because she listens better than anyone I have ever met. She certainly understands why we have two ears and one mouth.” A clever, credible, provocative and unselfconscious raconteur, on paper or in person, Sarina knows-as-she-goes what stories she wishes to tell and in what genre—of people caught in places of beauty and danger, of molten glass, of hands plaiting and punctuating each braid with flowers, of impossible choices, frightening consequences. Not only in languages, history, literature and creative writing does Sarina immerse herself: she has pursued life sciences and Hindu studies outside of Thacher to develop further insight—and to advance our curriculum in environmental science. A self taskmaster in her academic life, Sarina also pushes personal limits with draft horses, on rock walls and soccer fields, aboard sailboats, and in the theatre’s green room and among its ropes, pulleys, sets, switches, and fabric swatches. Her contributions there are rooted in a lived belief that a community like Thacher runs on the fuel of involvement and investment by all its members—no whining, no drama, just mend the flag and run it back up the mast. Her humor is dry—note the Grumpy the Dwarf T-shirt—but it “keeps the dorm alive,” writes a friend. “She is,” says another, “a constant, peaceful force, open to anyone (however weird) and wise. I know I can count on her for anything.” And this: “She's a quiet, calm, and determined force of growing wisdom with an astounding capacity to observe and understand the world around her before integrating it into her own grand plans. She's thoughtful and kind, conscientious and brilliant—one of the most admirable people I know.” As she leaves a school she has consciously worked to improve, Sarina, idealistic and rooted in reality, can trust that whatever life she writes for herself, we’ll be an immovable part of her fan base.

Albert Perez

With or without his signature aviators, Albert sees the world and his place in it with uncommon clarity. Who he is and what he stands for connect like intertwining fingers with the pillars of principle holding up the roof of Casa de Piedra. Furthermore, honor, fairness, kindness, and truth are values that both brought him to us and have kept him moving upward to higher and higher plains of being. In every part of his life, Albert breathes deeply to take in the beneficial air: in classes, where he actively investigates, analyzes, explores topics as wide-flung as civil rights legislation, the science of pain, the ritual run-up to Gymkhana, and petrified bobcat—expanding his reach beyond his favorites. In leadership, where from Lower School to the barns, he sets an example of dedication and determination for younger kids still learning the ropes and the ethos of the School. In the Horse Program, starting with Peppy and now aback JJ, he not only speeds around barrels and spins in keyholes for Orange Team, but also puts in the long hours, cleaning stalls and tack, nursing tender hooves and sore withers with concern and bone-deep appreciation for the team of human-and-horse. In many parts of the community service program every term, TROTting from Smart Start to vet hospital (evenings, at St. Joseph’s) bringing children, the elderly or homeless, and animals into his care, smiles and wagging tails his recompense. A special affection for the unique parts of Thacher keeps Albert working tirelessly on its behalf: the easy trust between faculty and students that renders moot a them-vs-us mentality; the notion that seniors can befriend freshmen in authentic ways; the wee brothers available among faculty children; the programs that get students out into a world of real responsibility, where decisions matter and choices have consequences. In all this, writes a friend, “Albert is the most trustworthy, reliable friend, always concerned about everyone.” A faculty member adds, “If there were an award for Most Considerate, Albert would earn it.” Running the California flag at Big Gymkhana—trot, lope, and hell-bent-for-leather gallop—is not another notch on the belt but an honor Albert meets with skill and gratitude. In choosing Thacher over a high school fifteen times larger, Albert picked “something bigger,” in his own words. He understands more fully now the paradox, having created fellowship here, having “lived all these lives” in one. The gratitude is ours.

Laurel Ames Poolman

“She will speak to you in beautiful riddles or poetry.” The friend pauses, then adds, “unless she has a point to prove. Then she is very clear.” Opaque or translucent, Laurel is words made flesh; everything she does seems to come back to her love of language and its possibilities. Laurel “loves the artistic experiment,” writes a teacher—props and costumes included. The books she gobbles up, for classes or for pleasure, are no doubt part of it, but we think that an MRI might reveal in Laurel a special lobe that functions for the sole purpose of elegant communication—listening, speaking and, perhaps even more powerfully, writing. Laurel engages each of these with purposeful intensity, boldness, and attunement. In her pieces—long and short, poetry and prose—Laurel creates a glimpse into the perpetual motion machine that is her imagination. Vision links with revision as Laurel practices her craft, translating small realities not through a sentimental lens but through a clear, realistic one. That she is devoted to nurturing other writers is testament to the totality of her commitment. And, as Laurel’s recent foray into cognitive behavioral therapy suggested to her, there may be no limit to the number and variety of creative paths open to someone like her, as many as there are small animal trails through the wilds of Hawai’i. Surely, it wouldn’t be Laurel’s brain saying, “I can’t.” Undaunted by academic risk, pushing herself intellectually whatever the subject, she’ll go out on any limb if she’s pretty sure it will hold her. And if it won’t, she’ll figure out how to enjoy the fall—and then pick herself up to create another day. Writes a friend, “Laurel’s excited to learn, and fascinated by the ancient and the new, and by human thought.” And, we’ll add, with spiritual inquiry. There’s writing in all genres, speaking (English and Chinese), and, for Laurel, that other critical way of connecting, singing. Watching her on any stage you see Laurel’s spirits rise with every note she sings. She is purely happy in the music. Another Sespian wrote, “Laurel recognizes the humanity in everyone (for better or worse) and accepts it. She knows how to keep her head. She loves the reality in fiction and the fantastic in reality. She is no one but herself.” We’re glad for Laurel’s stopover here, that she has been, in D.H. Lawrence’s words, a “dangerous dreamer” among us.

Evan Michael Praetorius

It’s hard to believe that Evan has rounded Bard Field’s third base and is heading home. His four years with us have gone quickly, but not so fast that we haven’t caught an eyeful: Evan has revealed himself as a scholar and a gentleman—and a play-hard, mindful athlete. In his quiet way, Evan has modeled qualities we value at Thacher, among them, the willingness to do what isn’t always easy on hiking trails and in classes of ratcheted-up rigor, a gentle sense of humor, and a growing awareness of the interdependency of the individual and his community. Evan-the-student is grounded in a love of reading, strong aptitude in math, science, and engineering, and an eagerness to meet the demands of teachers and material asking more with each term’s passing. His gray matter, dense to start with, has grown as he has exercised it, and when matched with his engagement, makes of Evan a welcome contributor to the class mix—or to an even more challenging audience, as when he took center stage to explain the mysteries and wonders of synesthesia. When the imaginary 3:10 bell rings, though, Evan sprints into the arena he pitches himself into, body, brain, and soul: athletics. Football, basketball, and baseball teams benefit from his tireless efforts and fervor for the game. “Evan always exceeds expectations,” one of his coaches attests. Capable of playing all five positions on the basketball court, of game-changing and intelligent play on the gridiron, of taking it on the chin (well, close by) in baseball and, soon thereafter, regaining his rightful place in the starting line-up by hard work and grit, Evan can swing to make the pivotal hit and run to bring his beloved team to victory—or rob an opponent of a home run by catching the ball, in stride, and flipping over the fence in the process. And he comes up smiling. That he does so with humility, that he weathers so amiably the highs and lows of all sport, is testament to his character. If we unfurl this diploma, it can stand for home plate. Safe. Score one for Thacher!

Javier Quiroz

You’d need a calculator to count the miles these legs, this body has logged in running. Up hill, down hill, on trail, track, and course, in front of applauding crowds and, more often, with only the sound of its own breath, in and out, the patter of feet on earth or pavement keeping company. What commitment it takes! And what exquisitely beautiful natural talent! But that’s not the whole Javi-story: when you train all summer only to pull your back doing the heavy lifting for your summer job at Golden Trout Camp just before the cross-country season starts, and then catch the flu, you need to reach deep, deep down to scramble back up. This Javier does, meeting the concern of friends and teachers with his characteristic thousand-watt smile and a no-worries nod, telling you that it’ll all be ok. And it is, because Javier’s strength of character and his resolve are as fierce as his toughness is tough. All have served him in his three-year run through Thacher, where he has stretched to become a successful student who makes important connections between his learning and the world, and an effective leader. Well-prepared, and dedicated to expanding his knowledge and skill, Javier is an exemplar to both others in his class and young eyes watching him creating his life here. With those directly in his care, Javier is both clear and compassionate, recognizing that necessary boundaries foster growth as much as freedom and fun do. The relationships are necessary to the whole of Javier—watch him around campus, in jazz or pit band, see him play with the other Javi, whose arms reach out in trust and delight. The words of a classmate: “Quiet, diligent, kind-hearted, and fun, Javier’s the kind of friend you let sleep in your room because he won’t disturb you, even though he is welcome. The bed will be made in the morning.” Another admirable part of Javier—his abiding gratefulness for “nature, birds singing, tranquility, and peace” that are so important to the school Thacher is: send him bushwhacking near Bear Creek and see his eyes light. “While most Thacher students aspire to see the world a certain way,” a friend claims, “Javi has already achieved that sight. He has a connection with the surrounding world that most of us can only wish for.” What we wish? That he’d come one year earlier.

Timothy Henry Reed

“He’s the kind of kid you want to bottle,” quipped one faculty member about Tim. Of course, catching him would be hard: he’s in so many places, doing so many things on behalf of so many people, rallying for Thacher at every possible turn. As in any epic game of capture-the-flag, you’d have him by the shirttail, you’d both be laughing really hard—and then you’d be holding onto air. Which is completely oxymoronic because Tim has so much substance to him: as a student, he’s thinking all the time, bringing methodical preparation together with lightning fast response, carbonating the discussion in a way that brings everyone to a stool at the counter for a slurp. He’s disciplined and probing in his studies, exuberant in his discoveries, whether in science or language, literature, writing, or history. An impact player in the classroom, Tim is the same as a leader, where he may have a light touch, but is respected Thacher-wide for his ability to judge fairly and impartially, act honorably, balance firmness with fun (he is fall-off-the-bunkbed funny and has a booming, big laugh). True, too, on the athletic teams he commits himself to mind, heart, three kinds of sole (plus soul). He listens intently to his coaches’ advice, incorporates it immediately into his play, rises to another level—and becomes, again, what is known as a force multiplier, doubling or even tripling the efficiency and effect of his squad. To a trans-Sierra trail winding seventy or eighty miles, Tim says, “YES!!!”—over and over—straps on his backpack, and strides off into the wilderness he loves. However rugged the territory, however steep the ascent or how long to get to the top of Blackrock Pass, no matter that what should have taken an hour takes three, Tim does not quit, and we don’t mean just mountains. Sunset and sunrise from the same bivouac spot is part of the magic; the “all together,” even more so. What he is most tenacious about, though, we’ve saved for last, because it’s the best of who Tim is: honor. Higher than intellect, more important than a Condor League Championship or a rafter of straight A’s is character built on this bedrock. Standing up, speaking up, for principle, Tim gives conscience a voice. It is as dear to him, and as cherished, as he has been to us these four years.

Joel Niles Reimer

Joel understands the connection between effort and obligation: as famed long-distance runner Steve Prefontaine said, “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.”  Joel will have none of “anything less,” and he has a record of achievement to testify. His teachers use words such as “impressive,” “virtually flawless,” “insightful,” “mature and sophisticated,” and “innovative” to describe his work in subjects as diverse as English and biology and “quiet giant” to describe his impact. Joel absorbs ideas with “consummate ease” (another instructor’s phrase), but then, importantly, moves beyond them to apply principle to problem. He’s knows the distinct, pungent pleasure—injera and wot—of the intellectual horizon’s continual receding, even as he runs toward it. But on he goes. Similar praise is sung by Joel’s coaches, who see a different expression of Joel’s strength and zeal when he takes to cross-country course, basketball court, or baseball diamond. Most inspirational and most valuable are the qualitative offerings he humbly lays at the many feet in huddle, bench, and bullpen: optimism and belief, a herculean work ethic, an unyielding competitive spirit, an abiding spirituality, and a smile that in brilliance rivals a desert sun’s. All this, and sheer talent. A friend who has known him a long while, shared these words, which underscore the pervasive esteem that goes beyond Joel’s influence in athletics into the community more broadly: “Good-hearted, high-achieving, and intelligent, Joel makes everyone around him feel good about themselves. He is loyal, sound to talk to, and has a strong sense of right and wrong. When he has made a decision he sticks with it, but is open-minded to contrary facts. The school-wide affection for Joel is not unique to Thacher. At home, too, everybody likes him. He is kind to everyone. In the simplest terms, he is a good person.” With a nod to a crack-us-up humor that actually makes unfunny sense—playing the faculty advisor in Assembly announcement for Christian Fellowship Club—we can’t help but go along with those unadorned five words. We trust that Joel, self-assured but modest, will be fine with them, too.

Lauren Kathleen Rosenfeld

“What will you do with your one wild and precious life?” Two years ago—which translates to many miles ago for this intrepid adventurer—Lo answered, “Although there is no prescribed distance I will travel, I will go the distance indispensable to learning and necessary for discovery.” The key phrase here is the one she italicized—“no prescribed.” Lo resists boxes and boundaries in her questing, and thank goodness. Her intellectual firepower blasts her to the far reaches of every subject she studies, French and Chinese language and literature to chemistry to biology to history--each course typically preceded by an “Advanced” label. Lauren is likely to be embarrassed (“Alright already!”) by the “joy to teach” cliché repeated in teachers’ reports stretching back to Fall 2006, but that’s how faculty feel—well, and happy to be in lively conversation with someone whose sophistication and enlightened perspective advance the discourse so mightily. Ambitious and motivated, Lo is also consistently disciplined in her approach. This, and her belief in T.S. Eliot’s assertion that “the quest is greater than the prize that is sought,” impelled her to spend her junior year in Beijing, where she was cherished and honored by all she met, in great part because of how thoroughly she immersed herself in the culture—preamble to El Archivero immersion this year. Another truth about Lauren: if she is klieg light bright as a student, she is pure genius in human relationships: patient, decent, warm, kind. “She took a group of freshman girls who seemed to have barely anything in common,” wrote a friend, “and made them into a family. That is the power of Lauren Rosenfeld. And she can be a complete goof.” Another seconds the motion: “Her heart is so big and wide that she is able to take care of her own responsibilities and still have enough space for other people to enter.” That “others” includes classmates, schoolmates and tennis teammates, faculty and their children, the homeless and the needy, young and old, from the Pacific Northwest to Ojai to China. This brings us to the word, observed and repeated by many when speaking of Lo: strong. One classmate called Lo’s strength “the most admirable part of her” and went on to say, “Her ability to confront adversity, acknowledge it, and conquer it fully is remarkable for someone her age.” We know what Lo will do with her one precious life because the auspicious signs have been here all along.

Eunice Ruiz

Eunice has always sought big fields for her dreams to cavort in. Actually, Eunice does a good deal of the cavorting herself: a dynamo who dances, drives a two-ton team of Percherons with confident hands, and dares stage performance of several kinds, she leads an sparkling, energetic life—emphasis on leads. No follower, this young woman. Resolute self-confidence mingles in her with savvy and smarts to produce just the kind of student teachers love seeing through the door—into the classroom or lab, where she revels especially in language and cultural studies (French, Chinese, and Spanish), literary exegesis, and historical investigation. Of the first, Eunice, recognizes her unique potency as an agent of connection among people who would otherwise not be able to communicate. Her own open-mindedness—and open heartedness—contributes to this power, as does her persistence and unselfish investment, as well as highly attuned ear. Perseverance has paid big dividends, too, in Eunice’s turning a love of music and movement into her own place in Dance Ensemble. Impeccable timing, charm, fluidity—these coalesce with playfulness, self-assurance, and élan in her performances, in dance recitals; she turns up the volume when she takes the stage as a Les Miserables chorus member or a Hot Box Girl—though, indicative of Eunice’s breadth, one of her friends described her as “somewhat Shakespearian in poise and purport.” She can play it all ways. It’s in the thick of things that Eunice is happiest, and “inclusive” is carved deeply into the welcome sign Eunice hangs out as invitation. A dorm-mate pronounces her “a startling combination of deep-hearted compassion, vibrant emotion, and unending loyalty.” Another calls her “a brilliant spark of raw humanity,” which, in a third, becomes “ground fire—quiet, burning with intense passion.” A fourth friend turns to an epicurian metaphor: “Eunice adds the best kind of spice to the day.” Zest, yes—but underneath it all, Eunice keeps another flame: a surpassing understanding of humanity that arises from only true thing: El respeto al derecho ajeno es la paz.

Cole Le Roy Ryder

Prodigiously gifted high school athletes have been known to just cruise in the other areas of their teenage lives. While Cole can claim absolutely a spot in such a not-so-secret society as a hugely talented competitor, he’s no cruiser. Rather, he has used his four years here to expand himself, up, out, inside and outside, and we respect fully the young man he has created—especially, perhaps, those of us who knew him as a toddler down the road a piece now bounding over house-sized boulders with ease. The quality of Cole’s academic work has spiraled skyward like pigskin perfectly thrown, the result of deliberate and steady application, intuitiveness rendered more potent by a sharpened gaze, and illuminated by a matured work ethic. Cole—“so dialed in during class,” a teacher writes—is particularly strong in analytical exercises—examining closely Henry IV, Part 1, Huey Long, or dream theory; as if by lifting himself to look down from above, he sees myriad links among disparate parts and thereby knows the whole more intimately, more thoroughly. The promise is being fulfilled because Cole is making it happen, practicing and polishing all along the way, daily discovering the power of his mind. As for that athlete, if you live in even the general vicinity of any field Cole has played on, you have heard the roar that signals another touchdown or goal, another pass caught, another interception; if you have stood on the sidelines, you’ve felt the wind in your hair as Cole rushes by, running so hard, breaking school records and earning points towards Condor League championships and CIF all-star teams. Cole maintains absolute fidelity to the concept of team both on the field and off it. Band of brothers turns just band when Cole gets a guitar in his hands—and here, as in trips through the Sespe Narrows, an early morning surfing adventure, or a rooftop sunset watch—some elemental need in this scholar-athlete-musician is fulfilled. Cole’s stats are surely striking, but as stirring to us and as important to him are the unquantifiable parts of his life, the choices he makes daily: to keep his shoulder to the wheel, to be a great friend and big brother, to support those he loves. Those choices light up a scoreboard all their own.

Ashley Rose Sauvain

Ashley is awake and alive—despite her uncanny knack for sleeping through any noise, chaos, or dorm craziness. Leaving the herd behind, she came at the start of junior year, brimming with drive, raring and ready for what makes Thacher atypical: the horse and outdoor programs as complement to the core of academic rigor. Without a backward glance, Ashley hopped into a life that would soon teem with trials coming fast and furiously: a green mare, a sea-kayaking camping trip with virtual strangers, an intricate woodworking assignment, advanced studies in not one but two sciences. Yet to Ashley, these were not problems or obstacles, but answers to her craving for more challenge. “Phenomenally dedicated to her passions,” a pal writes, “Ashley is also compelled by curiosity to explore the unfamiliar.” In the lab, the innards of a fetal pig; in a nearby creek, squiggly things, visible and microscopic, that Ashley can now name, genus and species. Beyond naming, Ashley wants not just textbook or even laboratory understanding of the natural world, but close connection to it. Of course, then, she goes out into wilderness with what poet Gary Snyder calls “a watchful elegant mind”—and hands made for tending, building proper campsites and running durable picket lines, for checking gear and every inch of a dozen horse-bodies for wear or tear, sores and soreness. Steady of temperament, knowledgeable, and skilled, Ashley is precisely the person you want as your leader on such a trip. Or, if you’re the horse, as your rider. Western tack or English, bareback, around a single stake or through fields of knee-high grass, Ashley loves without reservation those four-legged wonders who carry her. And so she dedicates herself to their holistic nurturance and care, their rehabilitation when necessary, and their development as athletes. (See Robbie fly on the birangle—and spy Ashley long after the sun goes down on Friendship barn, grooming him, talking to him, letting him know she appreciates what he accomplished today.) Ashley’s happiness to have joined the Thacher family matches, ounce for ounce, the pleasure we have taken in her model of dedication, empathy, determination, and focus.

Kristin Eleanor Sawyer

There’s resilience, and then there’s bounce. If there were a poster child promoting the art of living in optimism, Kristin’s perpetually smiling face would be on it. She’d be giving the two thumbs-up sign, probably even laughing a little inside at the crazy perfect storm that got her elected.  But because Kristin keeps a solid internal self-definition that includes capability and competence, she knows she can control her response to adversities—so she picks, herself up, dusts herself off, changes out of jeans and into concert black (minding the cast), and sings her part in a full-out performance. Twice. Kristin is strong, in every imaginable way. This strength undergirds her success in academic pursuits, where, hard working and relentless, she chases down details and brings them to bear on analysis and investigation. The natural world is of particular interest, Kristin’s highly scientific mind prodding and poking, cracking open concepts to reveal the wondrous workings of plant and animal, desert and seashore, rain forest, marsh, and savannah. To get a better handle on how it all fits together and how she can improve her relationship with it, she’ll travel miles to see and touch, invest in backbreaking labor—east coast and west, Guatemala, macadamia nut harvesting or compost hauling, high summer or lambing season. A big piece of that world for Kristin is equine, and big are the horses she often rides. Three springs ago, Kristin commented on the “great time” she’d had in a practice gymkhana: “I got my first western points of the year and my horse was really fast and listening to me.”  Horse is Kristin’s third language, and she has grown remarkably fluent, riding for Thacher with courage and heart. Out of the saddle, there’s lip-synching Taylor Swift and singing madrigals or musical shows, checking in with Middle School girls and close buddies who cherish her. Says one, “Kristin is passionate, loyal, caring, selfless and kind—the best friend I could ask for.” Another adds “steadfast, even-keeled, and reasonable” to the descriptor list. Put two and two together, and the sum is clearly greater than the parts.

Jonathan Sebastian Schell

“Sebastian” became “Seabass” almost immediately upon arrival. To everyone—two words telegraphing his unique connection to this school and community. “Seabass is a study in unexpected contrasts,” writes one of his teacher-fans: “an emerging scholar and an apparently carefree adventurer. A ruthlessly competitive athlete and a gentle, dedicated steward of the natural world.” He is as independent-minded as he is vital strand of this class’s social web, at once exuberant, even wild, and sensitively thoughtful—the armor of the stegosaurus defending a soft heart, “despite” (writes another close observer) “his best efforts to prove otherwise.” Coaches like that Seabass is “a tough son of a gun”—and, of course, that quality helps build muscles useful on the football or lacrosse field and wilderness expeditions. You want him on your team and on your side: Sierra or Pakistan, he pushes himself through exhaustion and even illness. Resourceful, adaptable, he can catch dinner, start the fire to cook it, orchestrate lively, inclusive conversation for dessert—and next morning, find his way where the backcountry path seems to have evaporated into thin air. He’ll shoulder your gear, if necessary, and you, too, if you can’t walk; you are his starfish. In the goal or as an offensive lineman, Seabass goes well beyond what’s expected, for the love of school, for the love of bro. You also want him in your class where that muscularity comes in the form of boundless curiosity, sharp observational skill, and what a teacher called “a truly intellectual disposition.” To say that Seabass has come on as a student is like saying K2 is a little mountain. And if the people who change our world are the ones who look around the corner, this guy will morph the planet. Sebass applies uncompromised commitment and effort to what he cares about; included in that circle of stewardship are his friends, the environment, hiking companions, teammates—and the little ones—Hiram, Hayden, Big T—hanging on him like extra appendages, looking to him as their neighborhood hero. What Seabass himself once called “lunatic” is now tempered by maturity and growth; he has honed his ability, a friend attests, “to move elegantly and wholly through different qualities of character.” We doubt we’ll ever have another Seabass swimming in our waters. He’s just too rare a fish.

Katherine Anne Schultz

Recent findings in neuroscience suggest that an important factor in intelligence is brain size relative to body weight—something called the “encephalization quotient.” We think Kelly’s is pretty much off the charts. Kelly exercises multiple forms of intelligence daily—the quantitative and verbal, to start with. “She is brilliant,” a friend rightly claims, “so watch out she doesn't cook your brain in über-intelligent, incredibly mind-stimulating conversation.” Wherever and everywhere, Kelly keeps innovation and risk-taking as arrows in her quiver, strings her double-torsion bow, aims and bullseyes, whether the target is calculus or psychology, human geography, the sciences or history, English language or lit. Two other kinds of smarts Kelly owns are the kinesthetic and spatial. A coach who has worked closely with Kelly writes, “Watching this girl on the lacrosse field, changing hands with her cradle as she shifts into high gear is to see a thing of beauty. How she flicks the ball deftly to a teammate or fires it past an opposing team's goalie—it all looks effortless.” Her leadership on that field or the soccer pitch arises in great part out of this blend of the innate and the practiced.  On a horsecamping trip, the same applies to throwing hitches and packing gear efficiently so that when the trail becomes vertiginous, everything holds together. Then there’s the EQ in Kelly: “Warning:” begins a dormmate’s observation: “wear earplugs”—a reference to an irrepressible, ungodly high-pitched laugh that could slice through the walls of a concrete bunker. Another picks up the thread: “Wow. Kelly is excitable and full of energy, determined to make sure everyone is having as much fun as she’s having!” Of her quietly thoughtful side, the friend continues: “Kelly has a unique perspective on life. If you are looking for advice, Kelly is always the person to go to, because while she may sometimes miss what everyone else gets, it is more often true that she can see what others don't.” Agreement by another Thacher adult who extolled Kelly’s physical gifts, her ability to be aware of both the whole field and the piece she is in, her ambidexterity and her quickness, calling her “a complete player.” We’ll go with that—and then we’ll reach for those earplugs.

Sarae Townsend Snyder

Granite State tough and SoCal sunshine warm, Sarae has created something powerful and appealing of herself during her high school years. We think she’ll smile at that, because Thacher’s been so not typically high school to this definitively not so typical teenager. Trading one extended but close family for this wooly one, exchanging sheep, goats, llamas, collies, all brand of backyard foul for mostly horses, east coast for left, farm for ranch, one mountain shadow for another, Sarae chose intrepidly. Years after that choice, she’d sing, Who wants to look back on their youth and wonder where those years have gone? No wondering for Sarae, who has made every moment count. Her conscientiousness, composure, steadiness, true curiosity, and intelligence have allowed her unusual access to virtually every room in the stone house that is Thacher: around English and Spanish classroom tables (book open, but text internalized), in art studio and photography lab, on basketball court, stage and in mirrored spaces behind it in the Milligan Center, in dorm rooms all over the hillside. Sarae is what New Englanders call wicked smaht, admired for the way she gets at what’s between the lines of literature or music in writing or discussion as much as for the brilliance driving her there and the wisdom that results. Gently assertive and persuasive, she is like streamwater through sweet-fern that leaves its smooth indentation on mottled rocks below. She cares passionately about environmental issues and she quietly goes far beyond merely walking to the walk to sorting the compost, grafting the trees, making sure your cup is green and your lights are off—her actions speaking her belief in the preciousness of the planet, and her T-shirt driving the point home: The earth has a fever. Be the Cure. Put her into concert dress or costume, and she’ll play an hour, Trudy, a red-light district girl or nightclub floozy, a bird girl in blue—or dance your eyes dizzy-to-dreamy in ballet, contemporary, or hip-hop, elegant, sustained extensions in Searching for Home starkly juxtaposed with the angularity and attitude of her hip-hop piece, Sarae, mindful that no risk equals no-thing, has what she has sought all along: the real freedom that comes from putting it all on the line. Even as we return to sender, we take solace in knowing that wherever Sarae is, the North Star will guide her back to the home she has made in the far east end of this little valley.

Michael Jospeh Stenovec

If most creative people have a muse visiting from time to time, we imagine Michael sitting at his desk at any given moment with several fluttering about, perched on shoulder and chair back, maybe lounging over on the sofa, a couple waiting in the hallway. Michael is perpetually inspired—to write, photograph, compose music, play it. –not 24/7 but more like 28/10. Just about any musical combination on the Thacher campus finds Michael in the mix-middle—a jam session any day or time, a jazz ensemble rehearsal or gig, coffee houses, a Condor League Battle of the Bands, Music Guild. When he’s not playing, he’s composing –“I constantly hear music in my head,” he says—and then he’s conducting a student orchestra, in a Senior Exhibition that was, in one teacher’s estimation, “a polished presentation and a wonderful blend of personal interest, deep engagement, clarity, knowledge, creativity, and confidence.” Other notes dot the staves of Michael’s distinctly non-minimalist life: a newspaper sprung back to life under his nurturance—or, more accurately, because of his willingness not only to keep his own articles coming, but also to gently harangue the apathy out of schoolmates, getting them to write for the campus rag like we haven’t seen in years. By his own example, Michael gets the best out of others—working out for rock climbing, cross-country, or track and field, quarter-mastering on the Bill of Rights. Unexpectedly finding his name on the trans-Sierra EDT list, he smiles, laces up his shoes, gets on the trail—and rises in the respect of those below him on the boulder or behind him on the steep switchback. As a uniquely observant student and discussion leader, the same: Michael’s special sight makes him capable of what one teacher called “startlingly creative connections.” He’s a worthy adversary for even the thorniest, most challenging topics. Michael’s stick-to-it-ativeness helps, too, and another measure writes itself. Ear, feet and hands—and eye: through the camera lens Michael frames worlds others cannot or do not see. The delight with which he shares his images—simply stunning to sick—matches the recipient’s. Finally, the heart: affectionate, unreserved, emotionally honest, Michael high-fives, fist-pumps, and hugs in a way that accepts, appreciates, honors the person opposite. Original even among originals, Michael is the Stenocaboose—and the train’s leaving the Thacher depot. Muses?  All-aboard—and so, from us to him, is a green-and-orange duffle full of completely, totally awesome affection.

Lauren Michelle Stephanian

If made environments reflect their creators, then Lauren is one organized, meticulous, and methodical person. The state of supreme orderliness in her Sespe room tells the story first, of the mind that operates under the Orphan Annie curls. It whirs and clicks with precision, oiled by good study habits, taking in detail and retaining it, filing and cross-filing for later use in a different context or method of delivery, whether a several-day discussion of satire in English becoming a sharply-honed essay or the transmutation of ecology journal notes into worthy exam fodder. Sensing the possibility of rust from disuse, Lauren breaks out catalogues to find some suitably intriguing—or plain useful—summer courses, standing still not being a viable option for her. If she does stand, it’s to send her bucket down into the deep well of her creativity, which she hauls up to find expression in ceramics and photography, producing what one art teacher termed “works of great beauty.” Lens and aperture (original or inspired by Leibovitz and Avedon), even tricky yucca leaf brushes are just extensions of that mind at work, impelled by the breath of spirit. Here, as in other places, Lauren is the kind who arrives early and stays late, method yielding increased mastery and satisfaction for both her and those of us who see and admire her work. Lauren doesn’t wing it when she takes her energy onto the tennis court, either, her love of the sport and of competition evident in both her approach to each match and the fierceness with which she wields her racquet. Focused, nearly always, and quiet, too—but ask Lauren’s friends about her, and they’ll give you an “are you serious?” look, then tell you she’s one of the funniest people they’ve ever met. “She keeps me laughing whenever she comes over to distract me from my homework”—a behind-the-scenes imp, it turns out, and one who often bakes treats for her whole class. For our last image of Lauren, we’ll look to another senior, who wrote, “Lauren’s a valuable friend, because she will always, always have your back. Those that have her friendship should consider themselves incredibly lucky. She's a rock.” We’re only glad that rock rolled to our doorstep last year.

Sophie Vallie Subira

There is little in her life that Sophie does not temper with her favorite defense against the dark or the ridiculous: humor. Wry, dry, take-you-out-at-the-knees, sucker punch, or snake-up-on-you-sly—it’s as if she’s got a dial on it, accessible at all times. Her humor is not mean, ever—but at its best, it announces that Sophie has, once again, seen right to the heart of things: think Romeo and Juliet instant messaging and let it roll to get just a peek at this special perspicacity. (A friend: “We always laugh until we cry.” A faculty member: “So much fun to talk with, to be with!”) Things don’t get by Sophie’s sharp eye too often: her comments on a piece of literature or a slice of history can draw the curtain completely back on a character or event you soon realize you had only a passing understanding of before she spoke. During her time here, Sophie has become a joyful, focused learner who can separate wheat from chaff, the critical from the less important—and put the perfect accent on a Neruda poem she is reciting in Spanish. Expressiveness doesn’t come only from Sophie’s funny bone, but from an artistic soul, as well. It finds voice on canvas and in other materials, when she turns seamstress for theatrical productions, designing costumes and whipping them up like keeping her cool when various garments hit the fan in the chaos that can precede opening night. In fact, the show goes on because of Sophie and her other dedicated pros in the green room and other behind-the-scenes spots where her art and craft are called for. Harnesses aren’t just for theatrical flying monkeys, though, and Sophie knows the magic, too, of hauling hame and reins, of grooming a draft horse’s back that’s far above her head, of keeping just the right tension on the reins to direct the team where she wants them to go. Ditto for tension and release on the balla’ court, where Sophie’s queen, dribbling through traffic with hustle and zero trepidation. What a friend calls “admirable,” we call character: “Unlike many of us, Sophie is not afraid to express who she is, wherever she may be.” Open House kitchen-counter, Sespe common room, classroom, Suburbans, Milligan—wherever Sophie’s been, we’re thankful we were there, too.

Charlie Chengbo Sun

Charlie’s like one of those optical illusions with two startlingly different images: vase or two men’s profiles? DJSun or buttoned-down rhetorician? Arms-flinging/feet-flying hip-hopper or quietude incarnate in the act of researching, writing, clearing trail, or climbing? An internal logic in Charlie gives us both simultaneously, and so much more, which we’ve valued and respected the three years Charlie has moved among us. Charlie’s mind is powerful and lithe, firing on all cylinders when applied to all manner and kind of topics: he pushes through to second, third, or even fourth conclusions as he pursues complete comprehension. A formidable, facile communicator in the classroom or lab, he brings other students along in their understanding—so instinctive an educator that “teacher’s aide” is redundant.  Yet even in the brilliant light Charlie shines, classmates are warmed, not blinded. The same holds for camping trips and crag climbs, dance classes and jazz ensemble, even under the intensity of yearbook editing, where Charlie uses his talents, strength, and technique to boost the communal good, one individual at a time; getting to higher places and more expansive vistas is gravy. The words of his classmates underscore these qualities: “Charlie is one of the genuinely nice, kindest people I have ever met. He wants everyone to feel good about themselves, and, somehow, he makes [that] happen.” “Charlie is always there, with that smile that can bring anyone to a happy mood.”  “Just seeing him generally puts me in a better frame of mind.” And not just in our world: when Charlie takes his time to clear trail for the local Land Conservancy, do dance parties for ‘tweens, wheel the elderly Rafaella out into the sunshine of the rose garden, we see considerateness and compassion vivified. Charlie affirms the dignity in everyone. He is exuberant as he is thoughtful, a friend affirms: “Many kids in high school are struggling to find themselves, to find the ideal way to live their lives. Charlie appears [to have] already found that balance. Watch him dance or DJ. Few can exhibit that genuine joy when practicing their art.” In someone so respected among peers and faculty, intellectually and socially, Charlie’s humility both astonishes and makes complete sense. In Charlie, the essential unity is as clear as the view to the Channel Islands from Twin Peaks, but doubled: scholar, leader, doer. Logos, pathos, ethos.

Natalie McKelvy Swift

We imagine that Natalie’s first school report cards must have included not just a whole bunch of great grades, but an “Excellent” next to “Plays well with others.” The others are legion and divergent: volleyball, soccer, and lacrosse teammates; backpacking Toads on Sierra byways or trail crewmates in the Tetons; other members of CdeP 2010 who have shared virtually every classroom and lab on campus with her; 9^th grade girls who can interpret her love even through her hyperventilating sobs—and theirs. But emotion aside, where Natalie walks, laughter usually echoes down the canyon. But her playing gets serious when need be: a coach calls her “the rare captain who can strike just the right balance between pushing her teammates--to focus, to work hard, to keep their heads in the game—and to having good old fashioned fun.” She models the pushing in her own action on court or field, and like a nighthawk going after an unsuspecting mole, she swoops in for the kill—her version being slamming to her knees to get the dig or making a break for the goal, competitive drive, boundless positivity, and decisive athleticism vying in her for Most Valuable Quality. Forget the fluff in anything Natalie goes after or produces in her academics: she’s all about substance, an anthropologist on an important mission—an you’d best step aside as she pursues her understanding. Thoughtful and discerning, she treats every subject in its turn as the most important. Not surprisingly, teachers and classmates benefit hugely from working alongside her, watching how she connects detail to broader concept, hearing her original views—and even as she goes after her own understanding, keeping to a high standard of achievement, she is as inclusive as she is effusive. Natalie takes seriously her responsibility as a shaper of community and a keeper of the flame. Enthusiasm and energy are part of her success, but so are her maturity and ethical core. She can see the parts—honor, fairness, kindness, truth—and the whole—The Thacher School itself—because, strong-winged and confident, she has wheeled above it.

Brandon Tizenor Tate

As a dorm mate, close friend or companion, new acquaintance or long-held pal, few rival Brandon for funny, fun-loving, loyal, and upbeat. As a pal puts it, “Brandon is the best remedy for taking life just a little too seriously.” Strumming a ukulele—a tune all his own—sitting poolside, sombrero shading his already sunglass-shaded eyes, Brandon exudes relaxation. Socially, Brandon is a kind of elixir, his optimism and keen sense of humor doled out generously, bringing everyone into the circle; he effectively bridges gaps between ages and genders. As for the huddle, he’s fully attentive, because he knows he’ll be called on as part of the kickoff team. Strong, fast, physically talented and increasingly skilled, he contributes a special kind of depth on gridiron and hiking trail, religiously practicing offensive and defensive maneuvers on the baseball diamond or hiking along with the kinesthetic ease and grace of someone who lives comfortably in his body. Important, too, and valued much is this part of Brandon: a basically positive attitude in most is, in him, multiplied to “utterly enthusiastic”—a welcome trait in every group he is part of on campus and off, whenever there’s a junket to the Jolly Kone. Brandon’s teachers have called him “an enthusiastic and active learner,” and in Thacher’s classrooms, he has shown himself capable of flashes of sophisticated insight. “He has,” says a faculty member, “a knack for penetrating to the core of an idea and articulating his discovery for everyone's benefit. He takes ideas seriously.” Capable of the quick grasp of even tricky concepts, he also can master material inside and out—psychologist Harry Harlow’s attachment studies is a prime example—to the point of bringing others to understanding, moving things along with his insight. And, as a longstanding member of Chamber Choir’s bass section, Brandon has memorized countless lyrics and harmonies so that, lifting his unusually resonant, deep voice with others, he raises the spirits of everyone listening. His reach has extended into his own community of Los Angeles, too, where summers have found him working on behalf of Jack and Jill and 4-H. In the City of Angels or in the relative hamlet of Ojai, what burns brightest in Brandon never wavers, no matter how strong the wind: his good nature and eternal optimism.

Kelly Marie Timmes

Kelly set her laser-eyed vision on Thacher at a young age. That she worked towards the goal and (seems like yesterday) marched right through the two stone pillars is some indication of the internal strength, calm methodical approach, and resolute determination that make up her character. Look for the rest of the proof in what she has accomplished here. “Wow” sums it up neatly, but for specifics: first, Kelly has constructed an impeccable academic record erected stone by stone by an engineer and builder who embraces excellence while modestly turning away from the praise that rightly attends it. Her prose, elegant and lucid, makes the complex accessible; her poetry moves the heart. The routes she makes as she tunnels down in literature (English or Spanish), chemistry, mathematics, history, whatever, are inventive, often profoundly original, “sneaky smart,” to quote one of her teachers. Kelly knows, though, that even an incisive mind cannot cut to what is central without a sure work ethic, as hand is to handle—and so she joins the two forces, sharpens the blade on the whetstone of authentic curiosity, and becomes the artisan of her own prodigious learning. Then she shares. Through creative use of powerpoint, graphing software, or a board game she’s created, Kelly is a veritable Johnny Appleseed of ideas. And on a real field, cross-country course, or track, Kelly turns her mind to her feet. She’s a soccer player a coach can put any old where for positive effect, and she’s a teammate and captain whose example of pluck and willful determination—running the 3200-meter-- encourages others to go a little faster, push a little harder. As a friend and mentor, Kelly communicates with both clarity and sensitivity, “adorable sweetness and biting cleverness,” a dorm mate says. Selflessly taking time away from her own demands to listen and really hear what others have to say, she intuits their needs before even they do, and advises with frankness modulated by caring. To us, that sounds a lot like wisdom. “She’s the kind of person,” a friend concludes, “who makes you realize what humanity is capable of. She is a giant dwelling in a little self, tall and beautiful.” The seeds this paradox takes away with her from Thacher will, we are positive, grow into whatever she wants them to be–that’s the kind of Garden(Stat)er she is.

Taryn Weslie Van Vliet

“A wonder-woman.” That’s how one friend summed up Taryn. Then, specifics: “Fun, witty, and extremely talented at anything she sets her mind to.” Setting a mind is about intentionality, focus, willpower; the talent. . . well, ya got it, or ya don’t. Taryn does, and it plays both marquee big and gesture small when she takes center stage: singing her heart out in My Life or transitioning across the boards footloose fast together or apart, she grabs the eye, pauses the heart. Adjusting a white glove, looking out an imaginary windshield, or tilting her head just so as she melts into Marius’s shoulder, Taryn becomes Ma Kirby or Cosette. Impossible transformations seem effortless: lyrical to modern in dance, one character to another in theatre, Wilder to Webber. Just as she inhabits her stage roles, so Taryn confidently and completely fulfills the other responsibilities in her life outside Milligan. She’s a willing and fearless student, exploratory by nature, engrossed by the broad theme and the particulars, hugely contributive to discussions, and persistent about knowing answers to How? and Why?—the who, what, where, and when having been nailed immediately by her quick-study acumen. In complete corporeal ease, she makes the most of her natural alignment and balance: beyond dance, as a surfer and diver, an equestrian, a camper, she has known the salt of sweat, hers and her horse’s, and the salt of the Pacific. Poise and equilibrium also factor significantly in her skill as a counselor and friend, relationships in which where her force is felt like the impact of a high-F held for an inhuman length of time. “I’d like,” wrote a younger student, “to have the same impact on others as Taryn’s had on me." This is affirmed in what another senior said: “Her striking outward beauty comes from within; she really wants to do good for the world and for the friends around her.”  Then she brings Taryn-as-angel back down to earth: “But, let’s not get too sentimental. Taryn’s also brilliant if you want to have fun. Her dancing, mocking, laughing, and good- hearted spirit make her one of those golden girls I’d like to have forever as a friend.” As Taryn told us in her SrEx, the composition of men’s and women’s eyes is different. Whatever the eyes, we see in this final image of Taryn not only all the characters she has ever been to us, but, waiting behind those as behind a scrim, others she is yet to be.

William Harrison Waste III

The $78,634 Will “made” in investments last year was pure funny-money—part of an exercise in economics class. But there’s nothing imaginary about Will’s power of mind, which contains the mega-wheels working constantly behind the “win.” Teachers value the quick-on-his-feet quality that Will crams in that fast-disintegrating backpack of his, along with assignments thoroughly prepared, pounds of heavy mathematics and science texts (along with Spanish books), and a fearsome intelligence belied by that gently grinning, quiet exterior. Friend who know this Will use words like “brilliant,” “a scholar,” “deeply introspective” to describe him. We’d only add “dissatisfied until complete knowledge is achieved.” Will wants to know at the level of profound—no surface skittering for him. Nothing less than full-bore when the Toadly fortress is challenged. Here, enter the power of arms and legs, which translate to “He’s a beast!” as someone called Will while watching from sidelines this fall.  Or he’s a giant, enjoying the fray even as he’s enduring pain to do so. The Mitt isn’t for baseball, but for getting through a pesky time when he who is right-handed must become a lefty. Patience, exceptional equanimity, resourcefulness were the qualities that moved Will past all that and back onto the field, where he is a force for good and for victory, holding his ground when necessary, chasing ball carriers to the sidelines or up the Mesa. Straight-shooter meets sure-shooter and accomplished horseman in Will as a PTS regular: he builds a Sespe trail with the same precision and deliberation as he picks off flying clay at the toes of Twin Peaks. It’s in collaboration that Will is happiest:  as a classmate says, “a true friend.” He may score the clinch-the-title OT goal, but he knows he couldn’t have done it without an assist. For Will, that’s where money isn’t funny at all. We hope that Will leaves with many lessons learned in the embrace of these Los Padres hills, but this, above all: when you have what you think is just dirt, press hard, squeeze tight. Feel the silver. It’s right in your hand.

Mark Frederick Whitley

MFW (heart) MLB—and CFL and CHL, not to mention NFL and NHL. (The lad looks best in red.) Mark’s is a heart that pumps even stronger in the doing than in the watching or cheering: a football coach once wrote, that Mark “looked like Superman right from the start, stiff arming hapless opponent defenders and sprinting to touchdowns.” It’s true that Mark has distinguished himself as a linebacker and fullback, in part because on that field he does see what needs to be done and does it, makes whatever sacrifice must be made, and ultimately guzzles down the thirst-quencher brewed of several enticing ingredients: physical demands, team camaraderie, and grinding competition. Downing a ball at the one-yard line? Check.  “Hockey on grass”? He’ll do it—for the pure love of all that is implied in the word “game.” Mark’s motto is also his patrimony: “If you put your mind to it, you can do whatever you want”—and he lives it large. But other fields win Mark’s full focus, too. He brings the same intensity (and humility) to his academics, which demanded a heroic leap when he blew into Thacher at the start of his junior year, after riding a long Lake Ontario breeze down from the northeast, leaving maple leaves behind for his final two years of high school. Once landed, Mark set to challenging coursework, gaining not yards but leagues in his writing, researching, and analyzing, because and only because he made it happen. One revision? He’ll go face off three. In his beloved mathematics and science, Mark intercepts concepts with apparent ease and grace—but we know that there, too, he’s working his hardest because he understands how that equation operates. As solid as a Toronto summer day is long, Mark doesn’t complain. Out of uniform, Mark is appreciated for a wry, understated, and quick sense of humor; he can get anyone and everyone laughing, even when his announcement is a straight-ahead as the list of athletic competitions on a given Wednesday. In these moments, it feels as if Mark was here on Day One. So lucky for us that MFW (heart)ed CdeP these two years. Though we wish we didn’t have to sign off quite so soon, it’s with a smile and a wink that we say, “Over and out.”

Thomas Bond Wilkinson

For someone with so powerful an engineering brain firing inside his head, Tom reads very, very well: topographic maps, dense biographies and complex literary fiction, stage directions and sewing patterns, your face if you’re having a bad day, the needs of his camping group when additional shelter’s needed or two horses go AWOL. He’ll walk miles for schoolmates, including fetching “about a billion pizzas at the Gate”—no need to be his actual friend, though count us in on that. Perennially good-natured, Tom’s days are build-me-up-buttercup sunny, and his kindness pours over the landscape he’s in like honey. Over and over, Tom’s teachers call him “intellectually curious”: Tom just loves looking around corners, way inside the curriculum or far outside of it. Comfort zone, schmumfort zone: If you don’t go unknown places, how else do you really learn? he’d ask you, straight-up smiling. Tom’s candid, forthright way of putting things invites you along for the adventure, and all along the way, his take is reliably refreshing, often startlingly novel. Someone who’s shared courses with him says this: “I don't think there is anything more entertaining than being in a class with Twilky. His not having the usual sense of some ‘line’ not to cross, instead of limiting his ability to interact, frequently introduces an entire new turn on things that no one else would have the guts to uncover.” Tom says it as he sees it—rare, refreshing, and wonderful in its own way. He draws his own conclusions—on Faulkner or Camus, mammalian anatomy, human brain development, series converges—rather than looking to others; he’s that self-trusting, and with reason. Tom knows that the life you get is the life you build. A friend says, “Tom is full of life, and always giving.” Another picks up the thread: “Need a good sing or a good laugh? Go to Tom.” Need a fast and talented soccer defender? Need a mic, some lighting, a little sound for your event that’s in an hour, not sure if it’s the Outdoor Theatre or Milligan? Tom’s also your go-to-man-in-black for that, tireless in the hours, days, weeks he gives to shine the spotlight on others and uncommonly good-natured when Plan A becomes Plan B and on through half the alphabet. Hiking miles in cowboy boots? Tom takes it, as he does every detour or unanticipated pothole in the road, as just another way to slow down and see more of the world, chatting every step of the way: “So, what do you think William was getting at with that rug, anyway?”

Casey Willard Wyman

Like that rare 45 that had cool but really different tunes on the A and the B sides, Casey has the best of both, and in several ways. Chiefly, his fierce, all-out intensity on court, field, or gridiron finds its flip side in his quiet, exceptionally thoughtful reflectiveness—the sort that can find the precise problem with Achilles’ heel in The Iliad, or the best chord progression for expressing musically a thought he wishes to convey (a la Dylan, Kottke, Guthrie, or Wyman), or just the right hatch marks to delineate an eyebrow in one of his portraits.  Although Casey typically lets his pen, pencil, lacrosse stick, and guitar demonstrate his eloquence and command, we lean in close when he speaks because he is so astute at seeing what we might miss: as in M.C. Escher’s lithograph, Three Worlds, Casey accesses meaning above the surface, on it, and in the strata below. He never “sees a bench and thinks sit.” Patiently, Casey looks, hears, absorbs—and then returns those perceptions, value-added, to people around him. His acts of sharing in this way are often surprises, but not, if you know Casey, surprising. Fishing along a river, building the fire just so, and browning trout for supper, Casey then offers you some with kind generosity, as inwardly happy in your savoring it as in his own. One friend wrote that Casey’s “shy and gentle exterior hides an incomparable intelligence”—and although it’d be true if he stopped at that, he adds more—“ and his understanding of all that is friendship and loyalty.” As teammate or buddy, Casey will run routes, catch balls smooth a silk, take on competitors charging at him, heck, even take it on the forehead—so that others are free to do what they need to, selflessly sacrificing what he must in the play, helping the Toads victoriously hop over Rams and other animals in the way. For Casey, in practice lies perfection, and he’s steady in the repetitive endeavors that ensure composure at test, performance, game time, rail-time. The lad has grown both tall and tough, before our amazed and appreciative eyes—but we will end with the hands, in which so much artistry and agility lives: those that catch, cradle, and dribble so capably are also those that draw so well—across paper, across frets, around best friends and sisters on either side. They’ve drawn the most from the Thacher experience, and they’ll take tender care of all the memories, we know.

Sarra Maeve Wynn

You don’t have to be the Delphic Oracle to know that when a red-tailed hawk lands on the yurt you’ve just built, you’d better pay attention. Let’s go first, though, with what the yurt tells us about its builder. Circular in structure, it signals harmony and unity—a quality Sarra works to bring to any and all groups she is part of, her success arising from her IQ and EQ—the latter leashed to a very ready wit. Furthermore, Sarra understands unity to be a certain cohesion between ethics and action—The Banquet Song’s quartet of principles she has known for years articulated in daily living: serving dinner at the homeless shelter, resisting group think if it’s heading people down a wrong path, holding to standards but forgiving honest shortfalls, opening her heart even to the prickly and difficult among us, doing her level-headed best to use her fine mind to to academic excellence in every classroom she enters. A yurt is cornerless, no place for evil to hide. We cannot name faults—unless you can be too good at cuddling, get too quickly to the crux of an idea—much less evil in this girl, unless it’s of the dare-devilishly Knievel kind. “Sarra,” a classmate says, “is the friendliest, most easygoing person I know, so loyal, so loving, so consistent.” A yurt is one with its surroundings, as Sarra is on campus and in the wild country around it. She dominates the soccer field as a leader and stopper, but her courage and commitment are also boldly played out behind home plate or in the field, where she catches and bats for her take-me-out-to-the-ballgame team. A yurt has a door curtain, grommetted against inclement weather; Sarra, too, is unflappable, drawing on gumption and grit in even the most challenging of situations—sticking to her guns in playing baseball, relay-running for cancer awareness, learning Chinese (her third language), or schooling Willy. But enough with the yurt! Sarra might say. Back to that hawk. Some believe this animal guide comes to the human who has an astute awareness of the interconnectedness of all things—beyond crossword puzzles—and a reverence for all life, someone who, as a protector of the earth, makes it a better place both locally and globally. According to a peer, “Sarra cares for everyone around her, bringing light to their days, bringing out the best in them, and filling life with joy.” Sounds like a match to us—like a mitt molded by time and use to the hand it protects. To see that truth about Sarra, we can skip the art of divination and just watch her.

Hannah Louise Yelton

“Multi-dimensionality.” Along with the phrase “intellectually fresh,” it’s a word used by a senior friend about Hannah. We get it, and we vote “Yes!” Hannah has many sides: there’s the level-headed, logical Hannah. Rose-colored glasses can be someone else’s fashion accessory, thanks anyway. Hannah sees the world straight on, without illusion (except maybe in her beloved Disneyland), and what she wants out of it, she goes after, determination and drive her tools of choice. “Horses don’t get away with much when Hannah’s around,” a faculty member once quipped. Hannah keeps the same firm, consistent, patient approach to everything she does. Systematic in her work, whether it’s tracing the femoral artery to the heart in a dissection or digging up the most convincing evidence in The Sound and the Fury, Hannah adds method to talent and comes up with platinum. “She’s completely dedicated to improving her skills—a relentless thinker,” says a teacher. Then there’s the handiworker. In a chunk of clay, pliant bread or pasta dough, a slab of maple, form marries function under her capable, artistic hands. Hannah finds satisfaction and beauty in the 3-dimensional world, and she knows which doors will give her access to it. Third, the friend, who often serves as a gifted and imaginative interpreter of people, events, actions, reactions: “Hannah has a unique sense of humor that either expresses exactly what you were thinking but couldn't form words around, or puts a totally different, honest perspective on something.” When language fails, she makes a word up to fill the bill. Another facet of Hannah glints when she’s a stealth instigator of fun. “We all know Hannah’s often a week ahead of the game in her academics, but she loves a good adventure, and she's the best person to have one with. Her enthusiasm’s contagious; her laugh is awesome.” Anyone who’s followed this pied piper onto the tennis court, wearing 70’s, 80’s, country club, or jungle theme, knows exactly what the classmate’s talking about—but would have to add in Hannah’s effective serve-and-smash. Many sides, talents, contributions. The girl who has built chairs, desks, dressers, a bed, and all kinds of tables can trust that in the wide workshop of Thacher, she has, with skill and mindfulness, built solid relationships, enduring, and inexpressibly beautiful.

Stephen Michael Yih

With Stephen there are at least three times you want to get out of the way: first, when he’s coming at you down the basketball court, on the football field or at net on the tennis court, ferocity barely concealed by ostensible calm, in season play or state championships. In the latter, his steely-eyed comment to the coach—“We’re doing this”—were gas to the flame of his intention, and “doing” became “done.” Second, when he zings out one of his one-liners. (“They’ll knock you out,” a friend warns, “because you just don’t see them coming.”) Third, when he’s chasing down data or historical detail. Stephen’s ability to slash through layers to get to the center of a problem or issue is a strength complemented by his capacity for analyzing, comparing, contrasting, scrutinizing the same piece of information from a variety of angles even when it means burning the midnight oil. Stephen has an effective and efficient intelligence and problem-solving skills that launch from the intuitive level. You want to get close, though, in many other situations, because in Stephen’s presence—rationally quiet or quite lively, always confident—you learn more: about the balance of justice and mercy as it plays out in Thacher’s discipline system, about standing up for what is right and working hard for results you can be proud of, about what constitutes real School spirit, about the meaning of and far-reaching potential in friendship and team esprit, about putting community welfare ahead of your personal desires—for example, cleaning up after an EDT meal, pulling someone else’s kayak up on shore, raising funds, 7^th-Man style, for a head-to-Toad mascot-suit. As variously a leader and an equal part of Thacher’s communal fabric, Stephen has found complete congruence during his time here, in part because he joined Thacher knowing it to be a blend of institution and family. In Stephen, “Be true to your school” and “To thine own self be true” are as balanced as a well-strung racquet. Game. Set. Match. Three-pointer just before the shot clock expires. A sweep, and, for all who have known Stephen, a win-win.

Lauren Christine Zakarian Cogswell

Like BMW or MB, the initials LZC have come to stand for innovation, quality, class, supreme engineering and/or design, and luxurious comfort. And can she va vite! Point her down any academic autobahn—history, politics, English, French being her favorite drives—and watch how she handles the curves as well as the straightaway, her capacity for understanding like extra cylinders under the hood. Open-minded and wide-eyed avid about her learning, Lauren pursues concepts with the desire to bring the parts together: the effect of resource depletion as an EnviSci concept is driven home by an event she reads about in The New York Times, which becomes the topic of an announcement shared at Assembly and some action on her part. Or, chasing down comprehensive analysis of news outlet business practices, she can out-fox Fox in clear, concise, comprehensively researched, stimulating, but balanced material. Racecars shouldn’t be confined to racetracks, and Lauren has made it her business to reach out beyond Thacher’s curriculum to fulfill the implication in “world citizen.” She can communicate in English, French, Russian, Armenian (and through breathtaking photography) and, as an ongoing part of her personal growth, she nurtures a multi-cultural perspective that begins with family and that makes her a natural for international relations study. As for Lauren la bonne amie and mentor, a senior shared, “She will go to any length to help friends and even acquaintances feel essential to the Thacher ecosystem. I know I’ll always feel comfortable going to her, no matter how much time we've spent apart.” And there’s the joie de vivre, expressed in dance parties, theme Fridays and actual competition in tennis, pre-event music-blasting dress-ups (US or Euro) where clothes fly on and off and on again—Lauren knows how to red-line the fun gauge to “never a dull moment.” Another classmate wrote, “LZC is sharply intelligent and has an uncanny ability for arguing her point. If she doesn't like something and she sees it needs changing, she doesn't just sit and bash it: she changes it. LZC knows what she's doing and where she's going. And they are big places.”  Vrooom-vroom.