Before plunging into my chaotic current life at Thacher, I should probably start at the beginning. In the fall of 2010, my first day of school, I was completely taken by surprise. Never had I been somewhere so perfect and beautiful. On the road leading to Thacher, there are rows of bright orange trees that glint under the sunlight. Seeing the endless rows of oranges was my first of many moments in which I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. Not only was I going away to school, something that traditionally happens for college, but I was to live in California, a state completely foreign to me. I had always been an east-coast girl, never had I lived in the West. As I sat in the car, on the road leading to Thacher, I was apprehensive about what would happen in the next few minutes (the next few years was a concept I wasn’t able to grasp yet). Finally, we approached the wooden sign outside the gates, “The Thacher School”. I wrung my hands, my stomach in knots. I was worried about change and what would happen once I went through those gates. Sure, the reason I came to Thacher was for change–for something more challenging, more worth living for–yet, at the moment I felt as though I was staring into a pitch-black cave and on the verge of going in. I could see the next four years of my life right as I peered nervously beyond those stone pillars. I was scared and excited.

    The moment I finally passed those gates, I became a part of a family. At the time, everything was strange. I was a part of a family, but one full of strangers, one with people I had never met and who came from places I had never been. I was plunged into a new world. But what got me through those gates, into the dark cave, was the knowledge that the strangeness would fade and that Thacher would become a part of me, as it did. That is the story of my beginning.