I arrived in the spring at the college-prep boarding school in the country for an interview. The apple and cherry trees were blossoming. The kitchen and dormitories were old farm buildings and the classrooms were inexpensive concrete buildings that looked like space-age moon structures. It was a “work day” and classes were cancelled for landscaping and construction projects. I liked everything about the school except my overnight lodgings – the infirmary.
When I returned in September, I didn’t like my room. It was between the kitchen and the television room, and the ceiling-high windows were almost level with the fields. The furniture was uncomfortable, the lighting was bad and there was no desk.
The housing made me think I couldn’t do it and that I should leave. When the headmistress made me
eggs and toast I realized I had also been concerned about boarding school food, being a “finicky” eater, as my mother would say.
Like the intoxicating spring blossoms, the bus ride back from buying school- books for the term was more like flying. The students all sang “We Shall Over- come.” I knew I would love the school.
