Looking out over the steps behind the AEC, I peer down at the place I used to glance up from, eyeing where I stand now. I can see the fake grass that surrounds the elementary school playground and the ghosts of my classmates’ and past selves running around and pretending to be nature fairies guarding the grand Magnolia tree from the evil dark angel fairies. Our bodies were so little, our minds were so innocent, our hearts were so wide open. And our futures? They were in this very school, the path winding from the kindergarten playground to the green top to the building I am standing on now. With the journey nearly complete, I am standing so close to where I began, and I can literally see how far I’ve come.
What it’s like to be a thirteen-year student differs from the average experience of those who came in high school, but I don’t know what it’s like not to have that life. Twenty-one of us in the class of 2025 have grown up together in Campbell Hall’s bubble. Whether we were close friends or acquaintances, we’ve watched each other grow up and become who we are today. We’ve never known what it’s like to go to a new school and be thrown into the deep end, fending for ourselves amidst a crowd of strangers. This fact may be a downside of being a thirteen-year student, and there may be other negatives too, but I am still immensely grateful to be one. As I look at my experience at Campbell Hall from the rearview mirror, I focus on the highlights and lowlights of being at a place such as this. A place that, for better or worse, has been my second home for most of my life.
My memories at Campbell Hall started with finger-painting, baking desserts from A to Z and Mr. Behlendorf teaching us the song “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin.” Chapels consisted of singing hymns with Ms. Chales, praying with Chaplain Hull and anticipating the year we’d be finally old enough to take part in leading chapel. Looking back on the first few years, I remember the bright colors and the loving teachers. Later years brought cherished performances such as the famous sixth-grade Greek Play: sketches of Greek myths strung together with playful wordplay and questionable acting.
With all of these comforting memories, it is easy to be blind to realities outside of the Campbell Hall bubble. So many children are not able to have classes dedicated to art, music, science labs, navigating a library and technology, where we spent time in a room full of expensive computers learning how to type and code. These are incredible privileges that we couldn’t have fully appreciated at the time. Even today, we’ve only known the ample opportunities provided by Campbell Hall, and we’ll only truly see our privilege when we step out into the world.
Our class expanded by over half in seventh grade, and it felt like our world nearly blew up. We welcomed and incorporated the new students into our lives. It was new, weird and exciting, but we still had each other to fall back on. There was never a time we stared at a room of complete strangers. Is that good or bad, comforting or stifling? The truth lies somewhere in the middle.
During COVID, we started to grow apart from our elementary identities, and by high school, kindergarten was a distant memory. Friend groups shifted, and teachers who were once a staple in our elementary days retired. Only once in a while did we reminisce with each other about the glory days of elementary school.
Once we got to high school, in some ways, it felt like a new school. In other ways, whenever we looked southwest on campus at our elementary school, we were reminded of our many years together. Sometimes, it was a nice reminder. Other times, it could feel suffocating, like I haven’t moved or improved since I was five years old. The past was always in my present.
Now, in my senior year, with nostalgia and melancholy set in, my elementary friends and I constantly look back on our years here. We’ve grown up with Campbell Hall, and Campbell Hall has grown up with us. It will be weird moving on, but I can feel myself stretching and reaching for something new, for somewhere where no one knows who I am and I can start fresh. I believe Campbell Hall has prepared me for life beyond high school, but I’ll have to see next year.
At the thirteen-year students’ dinner at the beginning of April, Reverand Bull gave a speech about what it means to be a thirteen-year student; we’ve known each other and we’ve grown up with each other, and we will never experience community like this again in our lives. I agree with this sentiment. I am very grateful for the experience I’ve had at Campbell Hall. I will take what I’ve learned and go into the next chapter of my life, knowing there will always be a home at Campbell Hall.
