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To The St. Paul’s School Community:

As the 2014 editors of The Peli-can, we are proud to represent the students and faculty of SPS. We have nothing but the utmost respect for this long-standing paper, established in 1954, and we hope to improve upon its already excellent stan-dards.

We plan on increasing the number of issues published and developing a new system of distribution. Concerning content, our goal is to publish what is relevant to our readers, and serve as a primary source of information for the St. Paul’s commu-nity. We plan to open ourselves up to better communication with the community, and invite anyone who has something to share with either the School or us to write a let-ter to the editor at pelican2@sps.edu.

We also plan to make The Pelican more interactive. In addition to accepting letters to the editor, we will be soliciting ideas for potential article topics, hold-ing competitions, and pointing students toward the newly revamped Pelican Online (spspelican.com).

We are excited about this year and hope that you join us in our quest to improve The Pelican!

Sincerely,

The Pelican Steering Committee

The Voices issue of The Pelican is a tradition that showcases individual members of this School and enlightens us to the true diversity on campus. Inside these pages, you will read the stories of 18 members of our community, each with a unique background, upbringing, and view of SPS. We would like to take this opportunity to thank these people for sharing their

words, thoughts, and stories with us, so that we may share them with you.

III Form, p. 2IV Form, p. 4

what's inside V Form, p. 5 Faculty, p. 8

VI Form, p. 6

VOL. LXV NO. 1 ST. PAUL'S SCHOOL, CONCORD, NH 03301 WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 29, 2014 EIGHT PAGES

The Pelican

COVER ART BY NICOLE KIM '15

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III Form

Being from Montana, I have developed a love for the great outdoors. I have a very active family, so we are always doing a number of different activities. During the summer, we can usually be found biking through downtown, running along

or kayaking the Clark Fork River, or any number of other activities. On the weekends, we often take trips up to my Uncle Tom’s cabin on Flathead Lake. Every hour that we are awake is spent swimming, water skiing, wakeboarding, riding jet skis, or just relaxing in the hot summer sun. In the winter, as the temperatures begin to drop, most people tend to want to stay inside and avoid being outside in the icy-cold weather. For us Spurzems, how-ever, the cold weather is even more of a reason to be outside. Rain or shine, hot or cold, ice or wind, we lace up our running shoes and hit the trails. Once we return from our somewhat treacherous runs, it is often time to attend one of the local basketball games and cheer on the competitors. When the weekend finally comes, we hit the slopes and enjoy the snow. We fly down hills, getting in as many incredible runs as we can before closing time. When the sun sets in the evening, it’s time to relax and play some Ping-Pong, darts, board games, or cards. As the seasons filter through, my family’s activities change quickly from one to the next. However, one thing stays the same: no matter what we do or when we do it, we always have smiles on our faces and happiness in our hearts.

Gabby Spurzem Gus Hirschfeld

I may have lived on campus my whole life, but in all honesty I had no idea this School would be what it is when I enrolled. I was in shock my first couple of weeks as a stu-dent at St. Paul’s School, but not for the same reasons most Third Formers would be.

I wasn’t struggling with the workload or many of the usual adjustments. I don’t think any other Third Former felt the same shock except maybe my lifetime best friend, Mia Hebra, who also has lived on campus her whole life. My shock was largely due to the realization that the people here at SPS aren’t perfect and the community itself isn’t perfect, contrary to my childhood belief. I had painted a fanciful picture of what this school would be like in the years leading up to applying, and eventually enrolling. I failed to see that there is no chance at being perfect, which I think many people here take to mean that they have to strive for perfection anyway. This is high school—a time to live freely, have fun, and make mistakes. If the opportunity to make mistakes is taken away, how are we supposed to learn from them? If living for perfection is not an imperfection itself, I don’t know what is. By this point, it probably seems I hate it here, but how could I hate the place that I have called home my whole life? I can’t. Yes, it has been (and continues to be) a huge adjustment finding a balance in a place I can call both home and school, but I am happy here at times. However, this is not to say that I’ve made a carefree adjustment and love SPS just as much. Sometimes I wish I could go back to my childhood on campus when I still looked up to people, seeing them through a different lens. As a student here now, I find myself feeling like I know the people here too well. I see their imperfections, as well as the community’s imperfections. Nonetheless I’m incredibly lucky to have a place like SPS to call both my school and my home. The most important thing St. Paul’s has taught me is to see things for what they really are.

Glyn Wilson-CharlesLumberjacks, Portlandia, Ken Kesey, rain, me: Oregon. There are hip cities (okay, there’s really only one), with boutique

shops, fancy restaurants, museums and art galleries. There are run-down towns, with a mixture of trailers and small homes, few places to eat out, if any, and dark streets. There are mountains and valleys, high deserts and thick, tall forests. There are

highways that stretch straight out as far as you can see, and there are winding back roads invisible past the next curve. There are places you can drive for hours and see nothing but fields with cows and sheep. I live somewhere between the winding back roads and the fields. My home is surrounded by acres of timberland, massive evergreens crowding each other for the sunlight that can be hard to find in the rainy grey of the Coast Range. I live in a place where you’re more useful if you know how to split wood and use a chop saw and dig potatoes. I’ve helped raise sheep and grow vegetables and fell trees. Since the time I was able to handle a trowel, I’ve been taught just how much work it takes to get food onto the table. I live on a three hundred and fifty acre working farm in Western Oregon, a half hour drive away from every school I’ve gone to. I’ve attended private school my entire life, and the private schools in Eugene (a town that’s a little bit hip and a little bit hippy) are more often than not very small. My elementary school had twenty-four kids, grades K-5, and my next school had one hundred and twenty kids, grades K-12. The eighth grade class my year had eleven students. Imagine my surprise when I came to St. Paul’s for the first time in 2009, when my sisters were interviewing. I’m rather shy around people I don’t know, and larger numbers just make it worse. The dining hall was terrifying. In fact, it sometimes still is. Honestly, you guys scare me. I don’t know how to handle that many people all at once, which is why I love early breakfast, and going to dinner at 5:30, and usually skipping lunch. And that’s what St. Paul’s School is to me so far. It’s a place that is different from home, a place to discover what’s exciting or uncomfortable, thrilling or scary. It’s about finding my own niche in a new community. It’s about finding a place I’m comfortable in, and it’s about being able to leave that place occasionally. Maybe by the time I’m in sixth form, the places I feel I fit into will have changed and expanded, but I’m still going to be the farm girl from Oregon, and there’s still going to be a lot of people in the dining hall at lunch.

SARAH EVENSON '17

SADIE LEE '17

IZZY TERAN '15

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III Form

Coming from a small school in Manhattan, St. Paul’s School was a drastic change for me; in the few months that I have been attending the School, I have come

to understand that each and every one of us has a different reason for coming here and the challenge that we are given is whether or not we will try to accomplish what we came here for. I was born in Lagos, Nigeria and moved to the United States in September 2001 and have not left since then. My academic career began with five years at my local ele-mentary school. From Kindergarten onward, I exceled aca-demically—I would win the coveted “Student of the Month” award several times a year and spend hours in classrooms of students in higher grades, learning the material with them. In third grade it got to a point where my teacher would teach me separately from the others to challenge my mind with higher level work. During the first Parent-Teacher Conference of that year, my teacher and my parents decided it would be in my best interest to attend a private school where I would receive a higher quality education. I was not exactly open to the idea,

Olanrewaju Onanuga

Clio GatesComing to St. Paul’s School, I knew my experience

here would be like no other’s. I was coming in as a Third Former with a brother in the Sixth Form and

two brothers in my own form. Apparently, we set a record. However, I did not know what to expect. I knew I would not be the smartest. I knew I would not be the prettiest, or the most popular, or the tallest, or skinniest, or heaviest, or most fashionable person here. I would not be the best at basket-ball, lacrosse, or any other sport. I would not be the nicest or the meanest, or the grossest or normal-ist, or even the funni-est. Because of this, I was determined to stand out. I often feel that I stand out because of my family. It feels as though they cast an overwhelming shadow over me. I get innumerable, “Your mom is Jill? Ah, I remember her. She was the best athlete I knew!” Or: “Are you Jack-son’s sister? He’s so dedicated—I mean, StudCo, tri-varsity athlete, and he’s really smart...” Or: “Oh, you must be Colby and Fisher’s sister - I love them, they’re great.” Sometimes, it leaves me thinking, “What about me? Why am I Jackson and Colby and Fisher’s sister, and Jill and John’s daughter? Why aren’t I just Clio?” I try to make an effort to stand out on my own because of this, but it’s challenging. I wish I could stand out in sports, but unlike my brothers, I can’t claim I do (for athletic reasons). I stand out because I dance a lot and make a fool of myself. I wish I was a genius, but I’m not. I wish I already knew my passions so I could focus on one thing and be good at it. But I don’t. Often as I’m walking down the path,

Having a sibling attending St. Paul’s School with you definitely has its benefits and its ill effects, especially with an older, protective brother. Before attending

SPS, I learned about the culture of the school through my brother, Hopper. The way he explained St. Paul’s to me is very different than the way I have experienced it, and that is most likely due to our extremely different personalities. However, Hopper did have one thing very right, and it was that St. Paul’s is a small school, and whatever I do, he’ll find out about it. This, of course, gave me doubts on whether or not I would want to apply to St. Paul’s and be at the same school as him. I was also unsure because I did not want to be in Hopper’s shadow. As many of you know, since Hopper is very fond of making it known, Hopper excels in sports and academics, and I was nervous I would not live up to the expectations that the School upholds for me. Before this school year started, Hopper warned me that I have to work hard and not get distracted by the social aspect of SPS. He also set many rules for me, which was very frustrating because I felt that this was my time to see how I would fit in at St. Paul’s, and a time for me to make my own mistakes and learn from them. I knew Hopper was very protective, and that his biggest fear was seeing me get-ting hurt. I knew that he meant no harm by telling me these things, but it made me very nervous as to how he would treat me at school. After being at St. Paul’s for almost five months now, I’ve become more comfortable with the culture of SPS. I think by now, Hopper has gotten used to the fact that I go here, too. He is no longer as protective as he was in the beginning; for example, he found me at the end of Nash Bash and basically held my arm as he walked me back to my dorm. Although it frustrated me and I felt that he made it much harder for me to be independent, I have realized that he has helped me not make stupid mistakes—mistakes that I would have otherwise made. He has helped me out in situations that I wouldn’t have been able to overcome on my own. Having a sibling with you at St. Paul’s, at least for me, has made my time different than students who don’t. For one, you have to behave because you always have someone who can tell on you to your parents if you do something bad. Even though Hopper and I have had our differences, and like many siblings, have gotten in fights throughout the year, I know he is always looking out for my best interest. I know that he has struggled to deal with me as well, as he constantly gets annoyed when I ask him for money, but by going to SPS together, I have a new found appreciation for him and I am more than thankful for having him here with me.

Maggie Hillegassas I had grown to love the school I was attending, but as with most important decisions in life, the opinions of a nine-year-old boy were neither important nor developed enough to be taken into consideration. I attended my new school for only one year, as my parents felt that there were even better options for me. Fifth grade was my best year at elementary school; I felt challenged and met people who thought like I did and had dreams like I did. Middle school was probably the most formative period of time in my life. I attended De La Salle Acad-emy, which at the time was located on West 97th Street and Amsterdam Avenue. At this school I was not only academi-cally challenged beyond what I knew I was capable of, but I was also spiritually challenged and encouraged to “find myself.” While all this might sound a bit clichéd, De La Salle was an opportunity for me to discover who Olanre-waju Onanuga really was. In my last semester at the school, I took Adolescent Psychology, which was mandatory for all students; that class was the best for me in terms of defining who I was and how I operated. De La Salle was a school that turned children, many of whom were financially dis-advantaged, into the future leaders of society, a school that thankfully I was given the opportunity to be a part of. My first three months at St. Paul’s were a little rough, as I had lost sight of my purpose for coming here. I had forgotten who I was and how much work had been put into me. The great thing about St. Paul’s is that there are people who help you get back on track. For me those people were some of my teachers, family and friends back home, and even my own peers. They have helped me realize that I only have four years here, and I need to make the most of them if I hope to accomplish my goals in life. St. Paul’s is a place with a lot to offer, but attending the School is only worthwhile if you take advantage of every opportunity and every resource that comes your way. That’s how I hope to spend my time at St. Paul’s.

COURTESY OF MAGGIE HILLEGASS

BRUNSTON POON '16

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COURTESY OF CLIO GATES

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IV Form

You would think that the main dif-ferences between the environment at St. Paul’s School and my old life

in Bangkok, Thailand would be the change in culture, food, and the feeling of living on a rural campus compared to a thriv-ing city. What was most different for me however, wasn’t the environment, but the people. I had come from an international school where the students were diverse and brilliant, but to put it nicely, lethargic. We were living in one of the most famous tour-ist destinations in the world with eternal sunshine and, like me, most of the students were satisfied with taking life one day at a time at a slow, plodding place. I know it sounds cliché but there’s something about our school’s enthusiasm that rubbed off on me, and I think it would be safe to say that the people played a big role in that. If there is something only a member of the community can truly experience, I think it would be the drive of each and every person here. It might have taken a while,

Mayra Barranco

Just KraprayoonAbove my desk at home, tacked into

the corkboard there, hangs a pho-tograph dated July 7th, 2005. It

shows me with a random Chinese woman who’d wanted to take a picture with me, posing in front of the Great Wall. Eight years ago, over the summer, my father, brother and I attended an immersion camp based in Beijing, look-ing to further our understanding of Asian culture and to get a head start on learning Mandarin. The program included visits to historic sites to gain a deeper understand-ing of “The Middle Kingdom.” We visited places such as the Forbidden City, Xi An, and the Great Wall. The day we visited the Great Wall was especially memorable. As my dad, brother, and I made our way through crowds to the foot of the famous land-mark, we were stopped dead in our tracks by Chinese children and adults alike, who swarmed around us and ran their fingers through my dirty blonde locks, snapping pictures as if they were paparazzi and we were trending celebrities. As friendly as their intentions were, I was terrified. At age seven, with the cautionary phrase “never talk to strangers” ingrained in my head, I felt violated as I was thrown from one stranger to the next, my American con-cept of personal space constantly invaded. But looking back on it, I realize that this early experience exposed me to a new cul-ture and positively forced me to expand my comfort zone at a young age. My arrival at St. Paul’s School

Audrey Bischoff

but I eventually adapted to the frigid cold and the concept of this strange new game called “American football,” while some-thing that I still struggle to truly appreciate everyday is the people.

The thrill of ice hockey is worth every second I put my life on the line. That is—CLUB Ice Hockey!

I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I signed up. I had never skated before, much less tried to play hockey at the same time. The only thing I knew about the sport were the pictures I had seen of players with blood running down their pained faces. That was my worst fear. Nobody told me of everything that came with playing hockey. I was a helpless soul! It was time to get ready. There were all kinds of paddings that I needed to put on. It took me 20 minutes to get ready! I don’t understand how ice hockey players do that almost every day. Finally, I was all set to step onto the ice. I didn’t fall while trying to get on the ice, which made me proud. People were already on the ice and every time they came near me, prob-ably ten feet away, I panicked and tried to “skate” to the wall and hold onto it with my dear life. I closed my eyes and prayed that nobody would knock me over and knock me out. I knew that even with all the gear in the world, it was not safe. Nothing can compare to all the great laughs and excitement that came with ice hockey last year. Now, I feel like the greatest player. When people ask me how ice hockey is going, I answer, “It is a blast. I can skate now, well I mean, I can get around, but I still can’t stop. I just wait until I crash into the wall or into another person whenever I need to stop.” The rush I feel throughout my body when I get the puck and try to hit it forward without fall-ing down is unbelievable. My heart feels

like it is going to jump out of my body whenever I think I am skating really fast and can hear the other third-line players coming from behind me. The scraping of the ice as they come toward me makes me want to skate faster, get the puck, and hit it with all my might toward the net. I have come very close but I am sad to say that I haven’t scored any goals…yet. I analyze how I play and treat the game like it is a Varsity Hockey game. It's finally GAME DAY! I have been waiting for this day all week long. The hours winding down have never seemed so slow. My mind has been in the zone since the moment I woke up. I repeat in my head, "NOTHING will stop me!" over and over again. Well, except for the wall. I count the minutes and picture myself being a “beast” on the ice. The time has come and I know that no matter what, the wall will always be waiting to catch me.

similarly challenged me to expand my comfort zone. Immediately, I was both warmly welcomed and forced out of my comfort zone. I made new friends, tried different sports, and learned to be com-fortable performing as I joined the choir and played a jury for the first time. Soon, I became accustomed to performing in front of audiences, something that had once made me very nervous. And just as blonde hair and fair skin makes me notably unique in China, I believe that confidence and the ability to cope with uncomfortable situa-tions makes one stand out here. By push-ing nerves aside and thrusting forward a confident appearance, it is much easier to try new things and plunge into and benefit from a foreign environment, like St. Paul’s.

EMILY SAUNDERS '15

LILY SCHOELLER '15

COURTESY OF AUDREY BISCHOFF

catch myself wondering who knows me for who I am and who knows me from my brothers. Would I be friends with any of the people I know now if not for my brothers? Is that friend closer with my brothers than with me? Would I be a Third Form Class Representative if my older brother weren’t on StudCo? I hope the answer to only the second question is “No,” but I cannot be sure. My brothers have helped me work up to where I am right now, and have sup-ported me so I feel that I have enough of a base to comfortably branch out. However, right now, I am trying as hard as I can to break out of the shadow that has been cast by my family. That’s part of why I chose to run for Form Rep. I wanted to create my own shadow, however small, and stand in it. I’m breaking out by doing different things than my brothers and having differ-ent friends and listening to different music and even just telling different jokes. I love my family, and I know that coming here was a lot easier because of my overflow of family at St. Paul’s, but I feel that it’s good to stand out as an individual. I would like to leave my own footprint.

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V Form

From what I hear, my first few months in this world were traumatic. When I was born I weighed two pounds, eight ounces. To put that into context, that’s

less than the average laptop. My Dad likes to tell me about how he would hold me in the palm of his hand and pretend to throw me like a football. If that seems kind of negligent, it’s probably because it was. Luckily for him, child services legislation as we know it was written in 1997. Regardless, I was small. Then I became big. Funny how that works. I guess my parents were doing something right. Or something terri-bly, terribly wrong. I vividly remember being off the weight chart for my age in the second grade. The doctor told me I was going to be a football player. In the car ride home, I couldn’t contain my emotion. My eyes welled up, my lower lip started quivering and amidst gasps and tears I forced out: “But Mommy, I may be hard on the outside, but I’m soft on the inside!” Sorry to break the news this way, Coach. When I was eight I moved to England. I lived there for a year, but much of what I remember is a blur. I shook my head a lot as a kid. When I was nine, I moved to Ireland. I moved toward the start of the school year and my parents were faced with a conundrum: I wasn’t in school anywhere. For most people, this isn’t really a problem; a trip to the local elemen-tary school would’ve done the trick. But not for my parents. No way their little bubula was going to public school. My mom hastily arranged a meeting at a local private school; I used the word “inconspicuous” in my interview, and ended up getting in. I was told that getting in “meant something.” I think it meant that I was stupid because on my first day I saw a kid eat an eraser. I stayed at that school for six years. Six years of Christ dying for my sins at Catholic school. I was once asked if I knew that the Jews killed Jesus. I said no, but that I did know that ninety percent of baby rabbits are eaten by predators and that, when comparing the two, the latter made me sadder. Turns out Priests aren’t known for their senses of humor. Who knew? Now I go to this school.

Upon arriving in Concord, New Hampshire, my immediate impression was, safe to say, an unsat-isfactory one. My first few thoughts: “Where are

the people, and why are the cabs, no matter where you’re going, always fifteen dollars? No seriously, where are all the people?” Coming from the highly populated city of Lagos, Nigeria where one could see signs of life at every corner, I felt like I had stepped into the twilight zone. Then, I arrived at St. Paul’s School. Nerves overwhelmed me that day. I had never visited the School on account of my mother giving me the ultimatum of spring revisits or summer vacation. I had no idea what to expect, and so, like all happy fools, I expected the best. I got out of that taxi, thinking “St. Paul’s, woe betide you because ready or not, here I come.” With my vision blurred by an overwhelming self-assurance, I planted my two feet for the first time on what I would come to know as Rectory Road. To quote last year’s musical, Bat Boy, “Oh, sweet wounded Jesus.” Before me were the strangest people I had ever seen. Pastel clad, tube-socked, boat-shoed people strolling totally unaware of the fashion crime they were committing. As Nigerian people say when they smell trouble, “Wahala dey.” Unbeknownst to me, I had stepped into a completely foreign land, where people said things like “chill sesh,” “clutch,” and “hashtag.” Nothing could have prepared me

I’m basically Hannah Montana: I live a double life. How-ever, my birth name is not Miley Cyrus and I don’t have a tongue with a mind of its own. My real name is in fact

Caroline and a lot of people don’t really know “Caroline.” For those of you who don’t know me and are probably a little confused as to what double life I live, I’ll start from the beginning. In Third Form Fall I was Caroline, meaning the def-inition of the uncomfortably awkward teenage girl: 5’11”, extremely lanky, long poofy hair, braces, and the inability to talk to people. I was so shy and so insecure about myself I had no reason to talk to anybody. But at this point in time, I wanted St. Paul’s School to be a place where I could change who I was. I didn’t like being thought of as the quiet one. As the year moved forward, things started to change. I finally realized that I was in an environment where I could be anyone, literally anyone who I wanted to be. Nobody knew who I was; there was no label on me to be the quiet girl who performs a miracle every time she formulates a sentence. Third Form Fall passed on and I had already made signifi-cant strides such as merely having the confidence to ask a

Diana Dimiri Jacob Barnes

LILY SCHOELLER '15

Caroline Zaffino

for this barrage of strange new things that, even in my second year here, is still coming my way. I look back at myself on that first day, and laugh at how much I’ve learned since then. How to laugh at what a total newb I was, how to use a laundry machine (another thing my mom denied me of was E&R, with the threat, “you better wash your clothes by yourself.”), and perhaps the most important thing of all: tube socks may be worn even when you’re not play-ing tennis, and that’s oka—well I guess I haven’t learned to accept that one just yet.

friend to hang out after dinner. This began the emergence of my “new me.” Where my double life really came into play, though, was during Spring Term. It was the first night of preseason at Georgetown with the St. Paul’s Girls’ Lacrosse team and we were about to play in our very first scrimmage. It was totally new to everybody; us newbs were adjusting to the returners just as they were adjusting to us. My teammate, Maddie, said to me before the game, “I’m going to call you Zaffy.” Well, okay—no way I was going to tell her, no. And it stuck. By the end of the season the entire lacrosse team called me Zaff, and by the Fall I was basically forced to introduce myself by saying, “My name is Caroline, but everybody calls me Zaff.” Being Zaff subconsciously allowed me to feel as though I belonged, that I was a part of something. Being Caroline, who rarely allows anybody into her life, hadn’t really felt like this. With this new identity, I had a quality that I always dreamed of possessing: confidence. Let’s be honest, it took some real confidence to drive around in a scooter with a white cast with “bice” engraved on it. Well, at least I think it does. If I were to credit this confidence to anything, I realized it wouldn’t be my name, but it would be the hidden environment that St. Paul’s provides. We’re all fighting together, under one cause. At times this school seems so competitive whether it be college, test grades, or athlet-ics, we sometimes seem to be fighting against each other. It’s moments like the time I got my nickname that reaffirm the mutual need that we all share; somebody to lean on. There are certain times in life when something so simple, can really change the way a person lives. For me, it was to belong. The name started from a sense of belonging and when somebody feels like they belong, confidence explodes within them. I think that is what St. Paul’s is all about… surprises. Maybe surprising others, yes, but also, and more importantly, surprising yourself in the process.

SOPHIE PESEK '16

CATHERINE ETCHART '15

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I have lived in the Northeast for almost all of my life with the sole exception of two years when I was an infant in Charlottesville, VA while my father earned his MBA. The next three years of my life were spent in Stamford, CT before I moved to Lincoln,

MA. I lived in Lincoln for two years, until I arrived at my current home of almost 12 years in Wellesley, MA. New England and all its wonderful character is my home. The one thing that sets me apart from most New Englanders (aside from the fact that I am perpetually cold) is that I love country music. When I first tell people of my shocking love affair, I get two distinct reactions. While I occasionally find someone who shares my affinity for country and exclaims, “Me too!” with gusto, the more typical response is “Really? I hate country music.” My brother always adds, “It’s so depressing,” and proceeds to do his best impression of the bluegrass country songs from before he was even born complete with a bad southern accent and such choice lyrics as “My dog died, my wife lied, my fields don’t grow, my tractor’s broke!” I laugh now because I used to have the same thoughts. But then “Big Green Tractor” by Jason Aldean came over the speakers while I was working at the stable one afternoon, and I was instantly hooked. Whether it is the calm, soothing tunes and simple lyrics of Eric Church’s “Spring-steen” or the contagiously happy tune of “Stuck Like Glue” by Sugarland, country music can always lift me up from a bad day or pump me up for a good one. With song titles such as “Nothing on but the Radio,” “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy,” and “I’m Going to Get Drunk and Play Hank Williams,” by Hank Williams, how can you not smile? Full of fan-tastic songs that cheer, soothe, encourage, excite, and entertain, the country music genre is by far my favorite. But don’t just take my word for it; try listening to country music and see for yourself. You’ll never change the station again.

Phoebe Clark

Max VivadoI am fortunate to call New Hampshire and its magnificent, verdant landscape my home. I have always

appreciated the beauty of the Granite State, the elegance of the surrounding White Mountains, and the wondrous colors of changing seasons here. Born in Texas with Bolivian roots, I moved to New Hampshire

when I was one and have been deeply influenced by many of its elements since, from our powerfully uncom-promising motto, “Live Free or Die,” to the state’s quaint demeanor. And thus, as a proud New Hampshirite, it pains me when I hear other St. Paul’s students talk about how there is nothing to do here. To many Paulies, New Hampshire seems a boring and desolate environment. Students groan about how there is nothing fun to do in the surrounding area. In truth, though the Granite State may be small, there is no shortage of adventure or fun to be found here. Whether you’re an avid outdoorsman, foodie, bookworm, music aficionado, or history buff, there are ample opportunities available. For those of you that disparage New Hampshire, here are a few rather concrete reasons that explain why I love this state.New Hampshire has long been deeply independent and forward thinking, highly politically active, and at the forefront of many political and social issues. It was the first of the thirteen original colonies to declare inde-pendence from England and the fifth state to allow same-sex marriage. The nation’s oldest free public library is in Peterborough, New Hampshire, and currently, its delegation in Washington is all-female, a first for any US state. Clearly, New Hampshire is a leading political state, so for those interested in government, there’s no better place to be than Concord, especially during the Presidential primary season (NH is one of the earliest, and considered a key win by political strategists). New Hampshire is also deeply affiliated with the arts and has produced many renowned and influen-tial musicians, comedians, authors, and poets. Writers Dan Brown, J.D. Salinger, and John Irving are all New Hampshire exports, as are poets E.E. Cummings, Ogden Nash, and Robert Frost (best known, in fact, for his works regarding life in rural New Hampshire). Many admired artists like painter Maxfield Parrish and sculptor Augustus Saint-Gaudens have also come from New Hampshire. Many famous musicians and comedians also got their start in New Hampshire. The hard rock group Aerosmith met and started playing together at Lake Sunapee. Adam Sandler, Seth Meyers, and Sarah Silverman all grew up thirty minutes from St. Paul’s School, in Manchester and Bedford. Finally, for all the politics, arts, and history here, the abundance of nature in New Hampshire largely gives the state its distinctive character, and is what I love most. From the majestic White Mountains up north, to the peaceful beauty of Lake Winnipesaukee, the crashing waves of the seacoast, and the forests that cover the length of the state, New Hampshire has some of the most breathtaking views in the U.S. Whether hiking to the summit of Mt. Washington, exploring nearby woods, or swimming in one of the many creeks found in the White Mountain state, there is no shortage of things to do in nature here. Before deciding that New Hampshire is “lame” and that there is nothing to do here, I urge each member of the St. Paul’s community to go out and experience all that this state has to offer. Go for a day hike with a group of friends. Visit one of New Hampshire’s many lakes. Hop on a bus and spend the day at the sea-coast. At the very least, take a small break from your busy SPS schedule and take a walk around our campus’s 2,000 acres of beautiful woodland. You never know what you may discover here in the Granite State.

AMBER BATES '15

COURTESY OF MAX VIVADO

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Brooke AveryLuke Babcock Ariya Lawson

Timberland boots, long hair traditionally tucked behind the ears, tattoos. These are just a few of the defining characteristics of the Boys Varsity Hockey

team, a group that happens to be one of the most misun-derstood on the St. Paul’s School campus. While the mem-bers of the team are known to be relatively unintelligent, homogenous, and callous, this is a warped view of our true identity. A majority of us come from a public school back-ground where social values are oriented around athleticism, self-defense, and pride. This is almost the exact opposite of the values that are embodied here at SPS: academic excellence and community contribution. So for some, the transition to the St. Paul’s environment is difficult.

You might think that because of the public school values, we are collectively unintelligent; this is simply not the case. Advanced science and math classes are often included in the courses that our players have taken in the past. Our team is academically diverse, creating an ideal environment for fostering bonds through tutor-ing and collaborative work. Members are racially and religiously diverse, representing the African-American, Latino, Asian, and Caucasian communities. Christianity and Judaism are just a couple of the religions represented by the hockey team. This type of environment, which the school strives to create in the academic setting, happens to be present in one of the most historic SPS sports teams.

The final and most erroneous myth pertaining to the hockey team is the callous attitude that we supposedly have. Often times, our approach to gaining access to the Middle dining room has been criticized as disrespectful. Our unified behavior in public settings is seen as aggres-sive and misunderstood as exclusive. Clearly, these actions are focused on efficiency and the culturing of strong friendships. This tribal-like behavior is also descriptive of most successful communities that have existed in humanity. Thus, we embody the modern development of fruitful human relation and society. In the end we are a collection of down-to-earth guys who only wish to have a positive impact on the SPS community through our outspoken leadership. With that, I would like to apologize on behalf of the Boys Varsity Hockey Team for any mis-understandings the SPS community might have with us.

ARDA KENI '16

I’ve never considered myself to be a prep school kid, and don’t ever plan on referring to myself as one. I come from a small New Hampshire town, set back in

the woods off of a dirt road. For fun, my friends and I set off fireworks with blowtorches and rollerbladed from the back of dirt bikes. Most days at school I wore sweatpants or jeans, as I never thought I had to impress anyone in my grade of 26 students. My family roots do not run deep in the fields of prestigious schools and workforces; instead, they date back to the areas of imagination and improvised fun. My background has not blessed me with great curiosity for schoolwork or academics. This is what I consider to be the source of my struggles here at St. Paul’s School, but from this I have been able to cope with my lack of such skills. Middle school was a breeze for me, although I never loved going out of my way to do homework if I could do something more enjoyable, like watching TV or practicing the piano or guitar. I expected St. Paul’s to be difficult, but not to the extent that it actually was. The term “HH” was never a term in my vocabulary, until my Sixth Form year when I finally saw the double letters at the top of my Marine Biology exam (so indeed, there is hope for all of you). Yes, I was quite discouraged with my performance in the classroom at first, because I felt as though I didn’t fit in with any of the kids in my Form, or at the School for that matter, because they would always talk about schoolwork and grades. I tried and tried and tried to get that HH, but I learned that after all the work I had put in, I wasn’t meant to perform well in school. After Third Form year, I realized I wasn’t going to be flustered by the grade grubbers around me, because I simply was not born with the “smart genes.” Nor did I care about receiving an H or an HH, because I knew that it wasn’t meant to be for me. Instead, I loved congratulating them and admiring their efforts to do well, or helping them to feel better when they received a bad grade on something by showing them my grade (which about 99% of the time was quite worse). Prep school has never really been the perfect place for me, but I’ve done the best I can with what I have. There have been millions of little bumps, a hill or two, and a mountain that I’ve had to climb over, but in the end, things have worked out for me. For many, St. Paul’s is a stepping-stone to the Ivy Leagues or other phenomenal schools that will assist them in brightening their future. For me, it’s been a learning experience more than anything else. Being an average athlete, and far from being a stellar scholar, I’m quite impressed with myself for making it this far. My dad has always told me, “What’s meant to be will always find its way.” I’m not meant to be a prep school kid, but perhaps, more of a motivator to those who are.

CHRISTINE LEUNG '16

All animals can enjoy the smallest of sweet and sweetest of small moments:

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. ‘Pooh?’ he whis-pered.‘Yes, Piglet?’‘Nothing,’ said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’”

― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

“’We’ll be Friends Forever, won’t we, Pooh?’ asked Pig-let.‘Even longer,’ Pooh answered.”

― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

I’m glad that I have gotten another chance to write a Voices article. The first time I was offered the opportuni-ty, I was in Third Form. The content wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t great, and it sure wasn’t what I wanted the St. Paul’s School Community to hear from me. I mean, it was about hide-and-seek and code names. What?! So here we go:

I had never really planned on giving a Senior Reflection. I had conflicting emotions about not trying for the opportunity: a part of me felt selfish and wrong for being anxious, and embarrassed. After four years of always receiving from SPS, why couldn’t I do this one act of giving? I’d concluded that my feelings were jus-tified simply for the increasing ingenuity of it all. Our community has developed a frame of judgment that has caused us to preemptively put up a wall, which deters us from willing acceptance. We arrive, expecting to hear what we expect, and if it is not something we expect, we still can’t appreciate it because it usually takes us out of our comfort zone. Reflections have become known for the dealing of wise words, advice, silly anecdotes, and family stories; personal bits and pieces that always find their way back to St. Paul’s. But what is wrong with that? Why has it become so cliché and unattractive to hear epiphanies that have made one’s SPS experience make sense or have this satisfying culminating factor. I have come to realize and appreciate that my journey does not end with St. Paul’s and that the high expectations and pressure is unnecessary in this environment. After all, it is sometimes the smallest moments and most insignificant conversations that carry us through this journey and con-nect us with those who will travel with us for a lifetime.

COURTESY OF ARIYA LAWSON

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St. Paul's School325 Pleasant St.Concord, NH 03301

The Pelican StaffSteering Committee

Courtney Becker - Editor-in-ChiefPriscilla Salovaara - Assistant Print Editor

Antonio Roxas - Print Layout EditorHanna Chan - Assistant Print Layout Editor

Isabella Pirozzolo - Online EditorJulia Schell - Assistant Online Editor

Nicole Kim - Graphics EditorJudy Tsai - Photo Editor

Maxwell Abram - Senior EditorPaul Kigawa - Senior Editor

Amanda Morrison - Senior EditorNoah Ruttenberg - Senior EditorSam Yonce - Business Manager

WritersMax Baron Jack Becker

Sammy Brainard Allegra Chapman

Alex Dreyfus Belle Gibbons

Marina Hostrop Joe Kim

Henry KremerSadie Lee Joon Lee

Sarah McKeanAudrey OsbornSophie Pesek Riley Solter

Webster ThompsonMuriel Wang

Nicolas Welch

Print LayoutSam Chase

Sarah KaplanHelena Kwon

Miller Torrance

GraphicsAmber BatesChristina KimSophie Pesek

Emily SaundersLilly Schoeller

Izzy Teran

PhotographersDemilade AdeboyeCatherine Etchart

Sarah EvensonArda Keni

Christine KimSadie Lee

Sun Woo LeeChristine LeungGabriel PatenotteBrunston Poon

Mac Taylor

Faculty AdviserMs. Minet Marrin

FacultyMr. David Valdes A little over six years ago, I got into my car with my dog “CJ” and my kitty “Tania”

and took one long breath before driving 31 hours from Austin, Texas to Concord, New Hampshire. Concord, New Hampshire was nothing to me but a dot on the map.

As I drove the many hours to the East Coast, I recall wondering if I was making the right choice. I was leaving a thriving community at St. Stephen’s Episcopal School, a growing theatre program that I developed and nurtured for many years and also a beautiful and excit-ing city in Austin. What gave me the courage to leave all these good things behind? Well, to be honest, it was the student body at St. Paul’s School. I recall my interview at SPS very vividly. The myriad of interviews and many teachers, administrators and SPS staff that I met, but the one thing that I recall most was the warmth and the smiling faces of the stu-dents that I had met. They seemed genuinely excited to talk with me and show me around. I taught a class of mostly athletes in an Introduction to Acting class during my interview and I was impressed with the focus and discipline of the students. Before accepting the position that was offered me, I asked if I could come up to the campus one more time just to see the campus without the pressure of the interview. Upon my return, several students ran up to me and said; “I remember you, did you get the job?” The excitement and congenial welcome was all I needed to accept the position of Director of Theatre. Being an Hispanic faculty member at a boarding school in Texas had its chal-lenges. I recall being in the dining hall (more than once) at St. Stephen’s when some parents stopped me and asked me to clear their table for them. Wow! Right? At SPS, I have been welcomed and never felt that my ethnicity was ever in question. Students and adults alike make me feel like I belong here and I have always felt welcomed and respected on the SPS campus. Developing the Theatre program at SPS has been a dream job for me. The com-munity has been so supportive and respectful of my work. The theatre has grown to be just one of the many jewels here at SPS. The Theatre students at SPS are my family. If you ever walk into New Space, you will feel the warmth and a welcoming feeling for sure. Did I make the right choice in leaving the warm weather and the metropolitan city of Austin, Texas? Well as I sit here watching the snow fall and the temps drop once again in Concord, NH, one of my advisees knocks on my door asking me if I have anything to drink. Yes, I made the perfect choice!

COURTESY OF MR. VALDES