Eve Kaplan '25
Our cart was filled to the brim with cold brew, hot wheels, peach-flavored pop tarts, and a pair of leggings so minuscule only a toddler could fit into them. Our voices were so loud they turned the head of every other person in the Target. Four weeks ago, our voices were so loud that they had consumed all the space in the math classrooms we had spent four nights sleeping in. Pyles boys camp is a famous experience each freshman class experiences. Following the past two years of unpredictability, our outings week turned into an innings week, complete with showers in the pool locker room, meals with assigned seating in Booth Commons, and what we knew as classrooms becoming “cabins.”
Each day we were assigned a different activity. We started by hiking on a narrow trail through Summerland. During the hike, we passed by horses, which, as one would, we named, Fefe and Dóngo. Though a month has passed, Fefe and Dóngo appear in the conversation. The hike passed through the edges of properties, so naturally, every time we passed a house, everyone went around announcing if they would live in it. We spent our second day at the beach, paddle boarding, laying in the sand, and canoeing. One of the groups swam with a shark - a story they all told a few too many times. Competitive games of netball and frisbees thrown around, we stayed at the beach long enough to get sick of it and desire the comfort of the math classrooms. Finally, on our last day, we helped cover “social trails” - trails in national parks made by hikers rather than those working at the parks, as our service project.
Each night had an evening activity for us to engage in. One night spent running around Kirby quad, stacking dominos onto one another, and playing board games we had devoted hours of our childhood to. A talent show was held our third night in which there was a myriad of different types of skits. The seniors sat in a semi-circle and improvised an act of them trying to think of a skit at the talent show. Hiking groups took the stage, reenacting the funniest moments of our recent adventures, a freshman sang all the presidents as fast as she could, and quite a few acts related to the school's homecoming.
As the nights ended, we returned to our classrooms. The walls of M3 embellished by calculus posters and math memes were the ultimate highlight of the trip. All of our clothing was spread across the floor, decorating the room. We had half dragged, half carried our duffle bags down from Long House only to realize it was nearly impossible to ever find the item of clothing you desired in a bag packed to the brim. We slept on yoga mats, mattresses, and mattress covers in our sleeping bags rated for the 15-degree weather in Northern California we had been told to expect. Each night before we fell asleep, we listened to our seniors impart their insight. Telling stories of their freshman dances and every mistake they made that they advised us not to repeat. Quieted by the faculty standing near, it’s never an easy feat to get an entire classroom of freshmen silent.
On our last night, we sat in the amphitheater and concluded the innings week with the traditional pine cone ceremony. As we sat and listened to seniors say that our grade made them hopeful for Cate’s future and that we were going to bring back the “spirit of the place” that had been lost through the pandemic, it was hard not to be skeptical. Our grade spent formative years on screens and learning through zoom. Our middle school years challenged each person in a different way, so the idea of bringing the Cate spirit back seemed ambitious. Students stood up and threw pine cones into the fire in an attempt to share vulnerable pieces of themselves and build the community that had been advertised to us in our admissions process. Throwing pine cones into the fire, we admitted our fears and anxieties about coming to Cate, despite having been together for about two weeks and our opinions of one another still first impressions. Building a community through supervised activities sometimes felt superficial and forced. It wasn’t the activities that bonded us, but our inherent compatibility. It only takes one conversation to find a shared love of the same television show, hatred of the same character, and a favorite love interest. The class of 2025 are not the ones who will bring back the “spirit of the place”. Rather, the culture we are succumbing to and traditions we are partaking in is.
When we applied to Cate, we were told over Zoom about outings week and all the memories we’d make. Once it started, it felt sort of surreal for it to be happening. Since the admissions process, we’d been told that outings week would define our “class identity.” In hindsight, it's hard to see if our class identity formed or if the pressure to find a class identity forced us into thinking there was one. Class identity is something it’ll take more than four nights to find, especially since most of our grade is still finding themselves. We have to understand ourselves before we can begin to understand our grade’s dynamic.
Running through Target, on my right was a girl I had hardly spoken to before I slept next to her for three days. On my left was another girl I befriended on the amphitheater field during one of the nights spent on board games. Our laughs were so loud they seemed to take over the entire world as we ran back to the parking lot because somehow we thought it would be a good idea to wait in the twenty-person longline ten minutes before the buses left. We are still growing relationships that will lead us to a more defined class identity even after outings week starts becoming a distant memory.
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