On Friday, March 7, the Sixth Form remained after assembly to listen to Head of School Mr. Tyler Casertano speak. Mr. Casertano echoed what the Sixth Form has heard many times this year—to reengage, not disengage, as we approach the end of our time at Haverford.
The question is: what does this mean? We have more free time, more opportunities, and less of a duty to schoolwork than ever—why not go explore what else is out there?
This is a question I’ve struggled with: can I even make any more of an impact at Haverford? The two months left of school seem negligible.
The truth is, you’ll never feel the same way in the same place in the same stage of your life ever again. Not everyone can resonate with Centennial Hall as a sacred place of connection and vulnerability. But try to picture this: sitting in those front rows, laughing when Mr. Kolade calls out the same students’ names every assembly, and standing together after Reflections has had an impact on you. Most students in that auditorium feel a sense of lightness, connection, joy, comfort, and genuine togetherness that you will not feel in the same way again. You’ll sit in large college lecture halls, laughing with your friends, but Centennial is filled with students who are more than your friends. You may not talk to them every day or even say “hi” to them in the halls, but they know you, and you know them. They’re part of Haverford—you share the same classes, same teachers, same drama, same lessons.
We’re not so different. Try to remember that. That kid you call a robotics kid isn’t just a robotics kid. They struggle in the same way you did in the back of Ms. Turlish’s classroom every other day. We aren’t defined by what we do, what we bring to the community, or even how we think. It’s a lot more than that. As we close out our time here, I hope we can emphasize that. The best way to overcome a fractioned Form or group of people is by focusing on points of connection and by celebrating differences.
It pays off to let go. Let go of your standards—people do not have to earn your friendship or kindness. Weigh the impact of what you say and do—if it’s easy enough to do something that hurts someone else a lot, consider not doing it.
If you’re complacent, you’re complicit. Some behavior isn’t just damaging to the school’s reputation—it’s just wrong behavior.
The fact is that people feel our Sixth Form hasn’t lived up to some standard they set. While we have no obligation to live up to said standard, is obligation the only thing that makes us do things? I like to think that coming to Haverford every day, sitting in Centennial, and sweating on Sabol Field is driven by more than obligation—it’s driven by a desire and love for this place or yourself.
If you’re complacent, you’re complicit. Some behavior isn’t just damaging to the school’s reputation—it’s just wrong behavior.
Depending on how this reads to you, you can think I’m nobody to tell you what to do. And I’m not—but we can either change or not change. It wouldn’t hurt to do better, but it would help. It would help the Forms below us who sit and watch us in Centennial Hall and it would help us. Not because we are at Haverford, not because we want some good reputation, but because we don’t do the wrong thing because we’re lazy. We do the right, harder thing, because we can.
