50p
My Years at Brentwood
I know many things about the year 2007. In 2007 there was more trouble in the Middle East and the US sent 30,000 troops to Iraq. Anaheim defeated Ottawa in the Stanley Cup Final. The Nintendo Wii was shocking the gaming world. The original iPhone had just been released. Britney Spears shaved her head and Al Gore won the Nobel Peace Prize. Jordan Sparks reigned victorious on American Idol and the movie Superbad hit theaters. 2007 was also the year I entered Grade 8 at Brentwood.
Most students are eager to enter Brentwood’s illustrious gates and begin the high school phase of their lives, but I had my reservations. I had just made the long journey from my home in Saudi Arabia to the small Vancouver Island town of Mill Bay, British Columbia. I was a reluctant arrival and anything but enthusiastic. My new home was still being built and Mill Bay was cold and wet and seemed a million miles away from the sun, sand and five daily calls to prayer that I had thought of as home since I had been old enough to strut around the school grounds in a kindergarten Book Parade in Dhahran. And that’s where I really wanted to be, with my old friends.
I knew that kids who were keen on being accepted to Brentwood would dress up for their interviews and be on their best behavior, but being the disagreeable-on-purpose girl that I was, I did exactly the opposite. 2007 was pre-Mr. Johnston; the day of my interview I arrived at Mr. Rodford’s office clad in jeans, Converse shoes and an old Jimi Hendrix shirt that had belonged to one of my three big brothers, though I couldn’t tell you which one now.
Little did I know how big a Hendrix fan Mr. Rodford would turn out to be.
I gave short, one-word answers, and didn’t even attempt to hide my dismay at being at Brentwood. Astute man that he was, it didn’t take long for Mr. Rodford to figure me out. When he asked me to rate how much I wanted to be at Brentwood on a scale of one to ten, I gave him a 3 (which was generous to my way of thinking at the time).
However, he noted that my older brother had already spent a year at the school as a boarder, our family was about to move into a house on the Bay and we had left Saudi on an Exit-Only Visa, so there really was no way I would be returning to my land of sun and sand anytime soon. And it didn’t take me long to figure out that he was right. So, after the entrance exam and filling out all the paper work, I arrived on campus that September.
Being a new student at any school is a terrifying experience, especially if you don’t know anybody. New people, navigating unfamiliar territory, meeting teachers with different, higher expectations - it seemed to me that Brentwood had taken things to a whole new level. I had never worn a uniform in my life, but soon enough I was walking around, blending in, clad in the traditional black sweater and plaid kilt, just like everyone else.
I was definitely not used to having such a structured lifestyle: classes ending at 1:15 and, after lunch in the cafeteria (also a completely new experience) heading straight into arts and sports. Every aspect of my day was planned out for me with no room for much in the way of spontaneity.
But I was one of the lucky ones, so I was told by the other ‘newbies’. As a day student I didn’t experience the ‘worst’ of it. My fellow greenhorn students filled me in on the customs of ‘prep’ and ‘sign-in’, once-a-week laundry and the lack of privacy they were experiencing as rookie boarding students. One thing I hadn’t experienced since kindergarten was cookie break. Yay! A good thing!
My years as a junior at Brentwood – though scary at first – turned out to be pretty great years, despite myself. It was a door opener to have my older brother, Brendan, there to watch out for me. His group of friends became like older brothers and made me feel safe because they, too, looked out for me, especially after being fed and having their laundry done by my mother weekend after weekend (a definite perk for a day student, although I’m not sure my mother would agree). I miss them, but we still keep in touch.
Brentwood allowed me to conquer many of my fears. With some words of encouragement, and a little coaxing, I was able to try my hand at some of the extensive Arts offerings at Brentwood. Though it wasn’t for me, I tried rowing and pushed myself academically. I played soccer and, perhaps most importantly to me, wrote and sang my original songs in public. Though it may not seem very courageous, revealing your innermost thoughts and feelings to your peers is a terrifying and yet exhilarating experience.
Once I knew that I could conquer my stage fright, or at least had convinced myself that I could, I joined Rock Band, Composition Rock Band and the musical – twice! I loved the rush of being able to perform even though nerves sometimes got the better of me. Brentwood provides such a supportive atmosphere. No matter what we do or how we try to prove ourselves academically, athletically or artistically, we can always – always - count on the support and cheers of our teachers and fellow students.
With my senior years at Brentwood came experience, appreciation and responsibility. It may have taken five years, but that reluctant thirteen year old that I was can now say with complete confidence that I am very glad to have been pushed through those Brentwood gates in 2007. I have matured (a little?) and learned many important lessons that only life can teach.
So many memories.
There have been ups and downs, tears and laughter, friendships formed and lapsed. At the end of five years at Brentwood I know this to be certain: if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Emily R
Most students are eager to enter Brentwood’s illustrious gates and begin the high school phase of their lives, but I had my reservations. I had just made the long journey from my home in Saudi Arabia to the small Vancouver Island town of Mill Bay, British Columbia. I was a reluctant arrival and anything but enthusiastic. My new home was still being built and Mill Bay was cold and wet and seemed a million miles away from the sun, sand and five daily calls to prayer that I had thought of as home since I had been old enough to strut around the school grounds in a kindergarten Book Parade in Dhahran. And that’s where I really wanted to be, with my old friends.
I knew that kids who were keen on being accepted to Brentwood would dress up for their interviews and be on their best behavior, but being the disagreeable-on-purpose girl that I was, I did exactly the opposite. 2007 was pre-Mr. Johnston; the day of my interview I arrived at Mr. Rodford’s office clad in jeans, Converse shoes and an old Jimi Hendrix shirt that had belonged to one of my three big brothers, though I couldn’t tell you which one now.
Little did I know how big a Hendrix fan Mr. Rodford would turn out to be.
I gave short, one-word answers, and didn’t even attempt to hide my dismay at being at Brentwood. Astute man that he was, it didn’t take long for Mr. Rodford to figure me out. When he asked me to rate how much I wanted to be at Brentwood on a scale of one to ten, I gave him a 3 (which was generous to my way of thinking at the time).
However, he noted that my older brother had already spent a year at the school as a boarder, our family was about to move into a house on the Bay and we had left Saudi on an Exit-Only Visa, so there really was no way I would be returning to my land of sun and sand anytime soon. And it didn’t take me long to figure out that he was right. So, after the entrance exam and filling out all the paper work, I arrived on campus that September.
Being a new student at any school is a terrifying experience, especially if you don’t know anybody. New people, navigating unfamiliar territory, meeting teachers with different, higher expectations - it seemed to me that Brentwood had taken things to a whole new level. I had never worn a uniform in my life, but soon enough I was walking around, blending in, clad in the traditional black sweater and plaid kilt, just like everyone else.
I was definitely not used to having such a structured lifestyle: classes ending at 1:15 and, after lunch in the cafeteria (also a completely new experience) heading straight into arts and sports. Every aspect of my day was planned out for me with no room for much in the way of spontaneity.
But I was one of the lucky ones, so I was told by the other ‘newbies’. As a day student I didn’t experience the ‘worst’ of it. My fellow greenhorn students filled me in on the customs of ‘prep’ and ‘sign-in’, once-a-week laundry and the lack of privacy they were experiencing as rookie boarding students. One thing I hadn’t experienced since kindergarten was cookie break. Yay! A good thing!
My years as a junior at Brentwood – though scary at first – turned out to be pretty great years, despite myself. It was a door opener to have my older brother, Brendan, there to watch out for me. His group of friends became like older brothers and made me feel safe because they, too, looked out for me, especially after being fed and having their laundry done by my mother weekend after weekend (a definite perk for a day student, although I’m not sure my mother would agree). I miss them, but we still keep in touch.
Brentwood allowed me to conquer many of my fears. With some words of encouragement, and a little coaxing, I was able to try my hand at some of the extensive Arts offerings at Brentwood. Though it wasn’t for me, I tried rowing and pushed myself academically. I played soccer and, perhaps most importantly to me, wrote and sang my original songs in public. Though it may not seem very courageous, revealing your innermost thoughts and feelings to your peers is a terrifying and yet exhilarating experience.
Once I knew that I could conquer my stage fright, or at least had convinced myself that I could, I joined Rock Band, Composition Rock Band and the musical – twice! I loved the rush of being able to perform even though nerves sometimes got the better of me. Brentwood provides such a supportive atmosphere. No matter what we do or how we try to prove ourselves academically, athletically or artistically, we can always – always - count on the support and cheers of our teachers and fellow students.
With my senior years at Brentwood came experience, appreciation and responsibility. It may have taken five years, but that reluctant thirteen year old that I was can now say with complete confidence that I am very glad to have been pushed through those Brentwood gates in 2007. I have matured (a little?) and learned many important lessons that only life can teach.
So many memories.
There have been ups and downs, tears and laughter, friendships formed and lapsed. At the end of five years at Brentwood I know this to be certain: if I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Emily R
75p
