Halloween Memories

This past Wednesday, the Lower School Halloween parade was back in full force after a year's absence, and the energy it unleashed on the north campus was as cathartic as it was loud. Baseball players, unicorns, and several inflatable t-rex’s mingled with characters from Harry Potter, Frozen, and Space Jam. Not to be shown up, our faculty donned costumes celebrating The Wizard of Oz, a deck of cards, and other notable characters. The parade itself was a raucous and slightly chaotic celebration of our community, dancing and cheering with unapologetic glee—something we haven’t done in some time. I am always struck by the dichotomy of the students (and adults) who willingly embrace the chance to dress up, and those who look a bit pained by the whole endeavor. I fall into the latter category. 

The perils of self-consciousness muted the Halloween celebration in the Middle School. These are complicated years, when trying on friendships and attitudes are par for the course. Do I want to look smart, funny, cool, unimpressed, or popular? Do I need to affect a particular personality to fit in? These decisions are particularly tough when put in a position that fundamentally challenges who you are or how you have been raised. What do you do when your new friends belittle your old friends? What is the impact of having to sacrifice who you are to fit in? Sometimes these situations are on the margins —I don’t like scary movies or I don’t want to go to the dance—but when you feel compelled to ignore your conscience or silence your views, that impact is more profound and a sense of loneliness lingers. 

A community's and an individual’s courage reveals itself when it recognizes the difference between discomfort and ridicule, distinctions muddled by the dissonance that comes with adolescent banter—offensive to some and endearing to others, to be sure. In these instances, adults must be cautious not to step in too early or too often lest they undercut the necessary growth that comes with the complexities of socialization. Still, while not umpires of every social interaction, we are not powerless, and we should not underestimate the crucial role we play as confidantes and role models. 

Despite my reluctance to wear a costume, I do have fond memories of Halloween. Circling the block with my brother and sister was a childhood ritual I will never forget. I also remember my fumbling attempts to figure out who I was and what I stood for during my middle school years, in particular. Looking back, I see now the quiet and, at times, barely discernible efforts that my teachers made to let me know that what I stood for was clear to them even when it was not so clear to me. For that, I am eternally grateful. 

JWB