On Boarding
Almesha Duhart • Newark, NJ • 16 years old
A normal day at school with my classmates, but who would have known a few weeks later we would be learning from home all split up.
A Chance to Grow
“This too shall pass,” my instructor on Zoom told me as I sat trapped inside a box of a room, losing my mind. Since the start of quarantine, my whole life has changed, in some ways for better and in others for worse.
I live in the city of Newark, New Jersey, but I commute frequently because I attend boarding school in Dublin, New Hampshire. Everything I needed was right there on campus. I lived with my best friends who were from all different parts of the world. My teachers were always in reach if I needed help with work. I was a part of clubs and sports, I was one of the leaders of my affinity group, and I had a supportive community. The coaches make sure you have a healthy balance, from your meal choice to mental wellness. You’re not only an athlete, but you're a student - and most importantly, a part of the community.
This photo shows me delivering just a few of the hundreds of donated Girl Scout cookies. With a quick Facebook post, we made this happen with many donors in different parts of the world contributing.
School had become my new home until March 6th, when we were sent back to our families for Spring Break, not knowing that it would be our final goodbye for the school year. When I returned to Newark, the city was on lockdown and New Jersey was the second state with the most coronavirus cases after New York. The majority of my family works in the medical field, so hearing their stories of what they have to encounter every day is frightening. The virus was spreading like wildfire; even if you were covered up and protecting yourself, you could still contract the virus.
Being stuck in the house without a social life outside affects you mentally, especially if you’re a teenager. While finishing school virtually, I grew tired of staring at the screen and emotionally tired of being in quarantine. I felt like I had been robbed of my freedom to live the life I should as a teenager.
As a Girl Scout I made a promise “to serve God and my country, to help people at all times…” I decided along with my troop leader to distribute cookies, with the help of donors, to those who are helping and serving the community. We gave the donated cookies to food workers, gas station attendants, hospital workers, and police officers. Giving back to others brings positivity within the community and gratitude, to let the workers know that their hard work doesn’t go unnoticed. This good deed helped me to feel good inside and inspired me to write a list of my goals for the summer. It helped me to stay focused and busy during quarantine, preparing me for the next school year. I realize this is a time for me to work on self-improvement. If you let this tough time defeat you, it’s a lost opportunity to grow.
Here I am taking advantage of quarantine by building my network with Gregory Prince, a former Ivy League administrator and president of Hampshire College.
Nuweira Ahmed • 16 • Newark, NJ
The beautiful Berkshire mountains overlook the North campus buildings and dorms as well as the on campus valley.
A Catalyst for Change
Springtime at Berkshire School is campus maintenance mowing the grass at sunrise, bats hitting baseballs, numb legs after fifteen hill sprints, faculty children running around the dining hall, and so much more. The shift from treacherous winter to sunny springtime is the beginning of all my happiest memories from the past two years. From the perfect temperature to the sun resting on the gorgeous Berkshire mountains, springtime at Berkshire is truly magical. Ready to create more memories, I was eagerly awaiting my return to campus for the spring semester when I got a heart-shattering email. Our head of school officially announced that we were officially switching to online school for the remainder of the school year.
As a boarding school student, that meant that I would have to wait five and a half months to see all of my friends again. I became extremely worried since most of my friends are international students and there is no guarantee that they would be able to return to campus in the fall. I struggled to accept that I was not able to give my senior friends a proper goodbye before they graduated. Spring is by far the best season on campus and as a rising junior whose main sports are track and lacrosse, and it was difficult for me to accept that I could not play and practice with my teammates.
This picture shows the dining hall and student center. The lawn chairs outside the dining hall are a popular place for students to hang out during lunch periods.
Fortunately, both my parents are still working and my daily life, outside of school, has remained similar to what it was pre-COVID. My social life, however, has changed even more since the murders of Breonna Taylor and George Floyd at the hands of the police. These injustices were catalysts for me to come out of my shell and tell my story as black girl at a predominately white institution, and push for my school to make serious systemic changes that help minority students.
Becoming more vocal put a target on my back. Many of my peers, who I considered good acquaintances, turned their backs on me because they choose to not believe the constant injustice and racism that black people have been facing for the past four hundred years. This was a huge eye-opener and showed me the true colors of people that I had trusted. Quite honestly, I am glad that I have removed people who do not support social change from my life. I will continue to share my story and bring awareness to social issues happening around the world.
Obinna Nwaokoro • 17 • Newark, NJ
Breaking the Bubble
I bought my first journal on March 1, 2020, and wrote my first entry on March 3. I have been writing ever since. At the time, I was finishing up the winter term of my junior year at Groton School in Massachusetts.
First time outside with my cloth mask.
If you ask anyone at Groton, being at a school like that is like being in a bubble. Despite that, we were all aware when coronavirus first became prevalent in the world. The weird part is that none of us thought it was real. In our little bubble we felt safe, and we had an administration that perpetuated that narrative, that illusion.
By the time Spring Break came around, I had forgotten about coronavirus and was focused on the day-to-day fun of being on vacation. I planned to stay up in Massachusetts with my roommate for one week and then drive down to New York with him and his family to go on some college tours, but this plan ultimately had to be trashed.
My first week out of school was spent visiting the local high school to lift and play basketball, then going to various stores throughout the city for snacks and drinks. All of a sudden one day, the streets turned barren and the stores closed, except for a few where everyone was stocking up on rolls of toilet paper and holding up the lines at checkout with disaster packs of food and water.
I hadn’t been following the media coverage so this all seemed very odd. On the same day, the college tours in New York were cancelled because things were starting to happen there that made social distancing the new norm. Eventually my parents came to take me home, where the real impact of this virus became felt.
Me in my dorm room right after clearing it out.
My work at home station.
Self portrait of me outside my house.
More people fell ill, and the world seemed chaotic. All I felt was disappointment as I watched the news each day and became more aware of everything that was being ripped away from me. Each day felt dimmer and dimmer, a feeling that built up in me despite the fact that I was safe in the comfort of my home, with both of my parents working uninterrupted from home while I took online classes. My home was my sanctuary and stepping outside could mean hospitalization or death for me or my family.
The world around me had gone awry and the little control over my life that I once had was non-existent. On top of the pandemic, I saw that injustices done to black people were still growing despite the crisis.
I think the worst part about anger is that it can’t always be expressed or alleviated. Sometimes you must sit with it and that is what I’ve been doing. My parents forbade me from joining any protests so instead, I took the time to write and reflect.
I am a 17 year old Nigerian-American, and being home has made me think hard about what that means. I have never before had to scrutinize my own mortality so closely. For me, this time has been a chance to realize that I have always looked at my privileges as givens in this life. They are not, so I am more thankful for them. With this truth, I feel grounded by a new sense of resilience.