Now I can’t remember experiencing hail more than twice in my four years at Mercersburg, but the thunderstorms at the beginnings and ends of each year brought with them some particularly memorable moments. My junior—or “freshman”—year at Mercersburg began with soccer preseason. I had played for years, but I’m confident that nothing could have prepared me for a week with Coach Kempe, one of the toughest sports coaches I’ve encountered. A full week of intimidating—yet especially fulfilling—physical fitness work culminated with a rain-filled September 4th, my birthday. I don’t remember every drill that we did that day; what has stuck with me is the final scrimmage. In my first year I hadn’t quite met some of the requirements for varsity—the 21-minute three-mile run, for instance—but I had played soccer since the age of 5 and that showed on Steiger Field that afternoon. I didn’t make varsity, but Coach Kempe did invite me to practice with the first team once a week, along with three other junior varsity players. That began three consecutive fall terms spent playing for the Mercersburg Men’s Soccer, months of character-building, and an extracurricular activity in which I could meet new friends. The next year—in one of my proudest moments from my four years—I made the three-mile run in 20:08. This came on an early morning during a torrential rainstorm. In my upper-middler—or “junior”—year, the varsity team would slide down the hills around Steiger Field face-first, covered in mud after tough practices in the rain, a practice that led to particularly difficult laundry that night. In my senior year, with the brand new Burgin Center for the Arts, we could watch massive thunderstorms from the safety of the Boone and Hershey Recital Halls that face town, walled in by large glass panels. More than once would my friends and I take some homework in there and look out to the mountains that define the western boundary of Cumberland Valley appreciating the naturally beautiful surroundings of our school from within our newest structural beauty. And finally, one day before graduation, the skies opened up after a very hot day in a cleansing summer thunderstorm… just as formally dressed students and parents left a dinner party at Nick’s Airport Inn in Hagerstown. The young men and women of the Class of 2007, after the Baccalaureate Chapel Service and dressed in the second-best gowns and suits (the best being reserved for Commencement the following morning) spent one last meal together, this before our last night in the dormitories that we called home for our last year in high school—well, for most of them it was their last. It may sound weird, but I missed big weather. On Thursday, I got my fill.
It’s been a rather dreary week atmospherically over here in England this week. The majority of the past 10 days have been rain-filled, with the occasionally sunny afternoon spent playing football on the muddy pitches of the Maes-Y-Llan.
On Thursday, though, there was a particularly notable break in the rain: a major winter thunderstorm—a meteorological anomaly—blew through Oswestry. As I sat in my morning Geography class with Mr. Croft, we noticed that the rain stopped. There was something of a pause as the air cooled and remained still. Then, all of sudden, the thunder claps began echoing across the plains surrounding the school’s hilltop position. After a few minutes, the torrential rain began. The power went out for a few seconds. Then the sky burst open with about 20 seconds of hail, which bounced around the parking lot outside our windows like thousands of Tic-Tacs. 
I suppose that it can be said of most every new year, but 2008 is starting to look a little bit more depressing than its predecessor, at least on the surface. That is the surface presented by the 24-hour news media. Following the nonstop coverage of the Iowa Caucuses, we find perpetual coverage of Britney's blowup, with in-depth coverage and analysis of the stalker-like video captured as paramedics took her from her home followed by the legal consequences of Dr. Phil's diagnosis. And all of this only comes after a week-long discussion of her younger sister's indiscretion. Is this really what we like to watch these days?
For one who just wanted to soak up as much pre-New Hampshire coverage as possible before flying back to school in England, I hope not. I only hope that we pay the same attention, scrutinize to the same degree, our candidates for the Presidency in the election already underway. I know that this is true for two like-minded--to some extent--Mercersburg News staffers. I found two editors, friends of mine from my time at Mercersburg, similarly glued to both their computers and their elections on the night of January 3rd, the first real election night in a long time. Although decidedly different from either politically, I was able to agree with each that C-SPAN's coverage was the most interesting, that CNN's visuals were confusing, and that Fox was unfortunately pro-Huckabee in their analysis and commentary.
Now that last muddle might not mean much to one who doesn't follow politics, but this should--to anyone with an interest in the sort of students who attend Mercersburg: we are a passionate bunch. Whether it is for the situation in Darfur, or helping other students succeed by working in the Writing or Math Centers, or performing on the sports field or stage, each of us has at least one thing that we find singularly fascinating, uniquely inspirational, particularly meaningful. Through Mercersburg that passion can be pursued, in class, in extracurricular activities, in the communities connected to the school, in the colleges and universities for which it prepares it students, in the life that is waiting after academia. I don't know how much attention is given there to Britney's sanity--or lack thereof--but I do know that there was always time to watch the State of the Union, to construct your own "big map" on election night, to care about the process and be a part of it.
And that's just my story... check out www.mercersburg.edu/definitions to learn about some other Mercersburg student passions!
For Christmas, I always knew that I would be flying back. That’s not the case for all of the American scholars studying in Britain this year. My Mercersburg classmate Julia will be meeting her parents--both of whom work for the Academy--and her sister--who is studying at Kalamazoo College--in Italy for the holidays. But I couldn’t stay away from south-central Pennsylvania for an entire school year.
I flew back about a week ago, staying overnight in London and meeting another classmate, Matt Kessler, who was spending his first semester of college there. The trip went well, until the Customs officials had to double-check to make sure that rabbit terrine was admissible. It was, and is, in case you were wondering, so I did make it home; I also made it to campus on Monday… and Tuesday… and Wednesday.
Now I had been warned that things would be different, that it wasn’t ever going to be the same as it was during my four amazing years there. I’m not sure that “warned” is the right word. I was quite pleased to find much of Mercersburg unchanged, but I was even more pleased with that which has changed. There are new faces, new schedules, new facilities, and new opportunities. Those who were only juniors last year are now much more mature lower-middlers. Those who were the anxious upper-middlers have grown into their roles as seniors and leaders of the school; and they are starting to hear back--often positively-- from very good colleges and universities.
Mr. Kantaros’ AP Comparative Government and Politics classes were still running, although each of the students now has their own subscription to The Economist to contextualize much of what they read in their texts. Stony Batter was still working hard on their latest production. Model United Nations was still preparing for their next conference. And Mr. Applebaum was still seated at Table 26 in the Dining Hall.
On the other hand, there were some happy surprises as well: some 10th graders had just returned from the Middle East, which certainly didn’t happen during my time there; several underclassmen made callbacks for Declamation tryouts; the Writing Center and Math and Foreign Languages Departments had moved. But when I passed others “07s” in the Dining Hall or Library, it would always take us a second to realize that we didn’t go there anymore. Despite the locks on the dorms and the missing faculty of yesteryear it was still Mercersburg Academy, where we spent four years of our lives, learning and growing as students and people. It was still that home away from home that I knew I would miss as I stood in front of my class at Graduation last year, telling them so.
I know that it will become more and more different as each year goes by, but as of December 2007, my alma mater is still facing those wild storm waves of years bravely and ably. I am proud.
© copyright 2008 Mercersburg Academy 300 East Seminary Street, Mercersburg, PA 17236 Alumni 800-588-2550 | Admission 717-328-6173