Deerfield is a small school. Walking down Albany Road, in the Hess, or through the Dining Hall, almost every face is recognizable. Our small size can be deceiving though, as the Academy still falls into the typical high school trope of division amongst the student body.
Before my arrival at Deerfield, I was given the idyllic impression that I could be friends with everyone. However, my first couple of days proved my initial expectations untrue.
Certain people always hung out with certain people — not just once or twice, but every single day — and many individuals never bothered to hold a conversation with me. I am saddened by the numerous social interactions in which my peers gave me one-word answers, turned their heads, or just flat out walked away from me.
I’ve tried to fight the culture — after all, this is a boarding school, and these are the only people I can talk to. However, after being excluded from a group conversation in the Crow on a particular night, I threw my hands up and surrendered to the reality that Deerfield is not the place I expected.
For a small school where students spend so much of their time on campus, the community — regardless of grade — remains divided. Students choose to spend time with those similar to them. You won’t hear anyone bringing it up, but you can definitely sense it. Friendly gestures and relaxed discussions don’t exist, and conversations are often as uncomfortable as can be, and in the end, some sort of excuse is usually made to escape the situation.
The nature of these uncomfortable interactions reflect the cruel, judgmental social norms at Deerfield. Under those social norms, things like self-introductions and interactions with strangers are somehow considered absurd. By contrast, limiting oneself to a clique and staring down at screens is deemed socially “correct.”
As an extrovert, I find cliques oppressive. I wish I could say that I have the confidence to walk up to whoever I like, whenever I want. However, there is nothing scarier than approaching a clique. Whenever I insert myself in conversations with people I would consider a part of a clique, I feel as if I am an intruder. I feel like they do not want me in their presence. The scowl on their faces and their guarded body language say it all.
capAdmittedly, I get disheartened at times when ostracized. I came to Deerfield ready to engage with and understand individuals who were unlike me, only to find myself excluded. For other students experiencing similar struggles, perhaps the immediate reaction is to point blame toward the Student Life Office for failing to create a supportive environment at DA. Weak student connections may seem like something meant for them to deal with. But personally, I believe that is unfairly using our faculty as scapegoats.
The constant reminders that the adults at Deerfield wish the best for us are not empty statements. Through sit-down meals, weekend events, co-curricular opportunities and so much more, teachers do make a genuine effort to unite individuals who may not be so open to new interactions. Collaboration within the community is a priority for adults at Deerfield. As Dean of Inclusion and Community Life Steven Lee said in September, “Deerfield works really hard to cultivate community.”
While not necessarily reflected in the current social scene, I believe the school itself is making an effort to connect students. That is not where the primary change needs to occur. Instead, progress should start with the student body, through eliminating cliquey habits. As students, let’s strive to turn our school into an environment where anybody can approach anyone. We should feel comfortable, and find value in interacting with individuals of diverse backgrounds. Instead of limiting our relationships to those who are similar to us, let’s use our time here to interact with people of all walks of life.