studEnt voicE

sylviE PingEon ’21

Lost and Found

Senior Sylvie Pingeon wrote this thoughtful piece for her collegeapplication essay. She’ll be attending Wesleyan University in the fall.

I’m sitting in my dad’s car, parked in our yard with the windows rolled down. My legs are pressed against my chest, limb against limb, folded into myself. I’m silently chanting a question over and over— “Who am I? Who am I?”—even though I already know the answer. My sister, Chloe, is outside, engaged in some deep conversation with my father about the mystery of life and how hard it is to know people, including herself. She’s 11. I am 9, and I’m acutely aware of this two-year gap, of how smart she is and how grown up. Because I know who I am. I am Sylvie. I like words and nature, blueberries and dogs. Mud fights and playing pretend. I know exactly who I am, even the parts I don’t have words for, and this must mean there isn’t much to me.

I can hear Chloe outside the car. “I hate the word ‘bad,’” she is saying. “I don’t think anything can be so simple.” My dad stares at her, a proud half-smile on his face. And then I am stepping out of the car and running toward him.

“I don’t know who I am!” I lie. “I’m freaking out!”

His smile is directed at me now. “Sylvie,” he says. “I still don’t know exactly who I am. People are complicated, and you’re only 9. If you knew who you were, that’d be boring.”

He turns back to Chloe. I can still breathe and see and smile. It’s sunny out, and the air is dense, and the long grass curls around my ankles. But even as I stand on the too-hot lawn, disconnected, wrapped in panic and in grass, my sense of self remains stubbornly intact.

So I return to the car, press my knees to my chest, repeat the question: “Who am I? Who am I?” I wait for more pieces to appear, wait to grow smarter, wait to forget the answer.

And then I am 17, in the same red car, driving myself down the highway. I’m trying to focus so I don’t miss my exit, but that stupid question keeps popping into my head: “Who am I?” I still like blueberries and dogs. I like exercising and proving people wrong. The labels are there, but they no longer feel like the answer to the question. Student. Friend. Writer. Sister. I rip away the layers. Who am I? An onion. Peel the skin. Another layer. Peel it off. More white scales. One last layer, then nothing. No center. No immutable core.

I once yearned for this feeling, this lack of security which I equated with complexity, but now, I want the answers back. “Finding yourself” is a common cliché about growing up. With age, you gain knowledge; with knowledge, you grow whole. But I’ve experienced aging as a kind of dismantling. The more I think about what constitutes a self and explore these questions through philosophy, poetry, and history, the more uncertain I become about human nature— my nature—and the more inadequate any label starts to feel.

Sometimes, though, I’m flooded with a clarity that returns me to my childhood self. I’m driving again. It’s nighttime and snowing, the roads empty. I narrate the scene in my head. The snow is drifting with an urgency where the word “drifting” doesn’t feel appropriate, but it is drifting nonetheless. In a dazed stupor, I park on the side of the road. And then my fingers are typing onto my phone, and it isn’t my conscious self doing this writing, but rather some deep, inevitable part of me. Briefly, I know who I am, even the parts I don’t have words for. I’m beyond labels, but I don’t mind. For a moment, I’m complete. Then I restart the engine, turn on the wipers, begin to drive, and feel this knowing seep away, held only in the imprint of my words.

“I’ve experienced aging as a kind of dismantling. The more I think about what constitutes a self and explore these questions through philosophy, poetry, and history, the more uncertain I become about human nature— my nature—and the more inadequate any label starts to feel.”

P L a NN e D gIVIN g

Jumping Right In

Joan Walter P’87, ’89

When Joan Walter gives back, she doesn’t hold back— and her giving back always looks forward. Joan is the kind of can-do stalwart who forms the backbone of volunteer efforts, investing time, effort, and formidable energy wherever she’s needed. When her sons, mark ’87 and Simon ’89, were at rivers, Joan and her husband were so pleased by the boys’ experience that she become more engaged with the school—much more engaged. She has worn numerous hats at rivers, including as a donor, life trustee, and member of the Nonesuch Society. Joan’s first rivers role was as president of the Parents’ League, but she didn’t stop there. “my first year as president,” she recalled recently, “I attended a conference with other parent league presidents, from other schools.” a chance lunchtime conversation at the conference led to an insight: that all independent schools were grappling with the same issues, and that pooling knowledge, resources, and insight could be beneficial to all. “When I came back, I told Joan allison, who was the liaison, that I had the idea of getting a few parents’ league presidents to continue talking,” says Joan. “She said, ‘Well, go for it.’” Joan went for it, and thus was born the Parents’ Independent School Network (PIN), an organization that helps parents share ideas and promote programs at area independent schools. From its beginnings, with 10 founding schools, the group took off, eventually incorpor ating as a nonprofit. today, PIN meets several times a year, sponsoring guest speakers who address a range of topics; it also awards community service grants to members.

that first burst of inspiration that led to the founding of PIN occurred in 1985, and the organization was launched in 1986. “Who knew that it would still be going 35 years later?” muses Joan today. Joan says, modestly, that she’s “always been a leader,” so it was only natural she’d take her engagement even further. Joan has served as a term trustee at rivers and is now a life trustee; she’s been a part of nearly every board committee and especially enjoyed serving on the faculty enrichment committee. that work eventually led to her setting up the Joan C. Walter endowed enrichment Fund. She was also deeply involved with the rivers School Conservatory. “I knew something about music schools, but not a lot,” she says. But true to her usual mo, she says she “jumped in with both feet.” as a proud member of the Nonesuch Society, Joan has honored rivers with a bequest in her estate plans, helping support the school’s future. With all her engagement at rivers, that decision was driven by the simplest metric of all: “I saw how well my boys did there—they just seemed to blossom. I wanted to give back to rivers to thank them for what they did for my sons.”

Joan Walter and husband Martin at the opening of The Revers Center.

the Nonesuch Society was established to recognize the generosity of alumni, parents, and friends who have made provisions for rivers in their estate plans. Its members have each made a commitment to ensure the continuation of excellence in teaching that is so critical to the education of future generations. When you include rivers in your will, you play a significant role in helping future generations of rivers students. at the same time, by taking advantage of tax laws that encourage philanthropy, making a bequest to rivers can significantly reduce estate-tax burdens. For more information about gifts to rivers, such as bequests, living trusts, and gifts of life insurance or retirement plans, or if you would like more information about the Nonesuch Society, please contact kim Fox, associate director of advancement, at k.fox@rivers.org or 339-686-2245.

333 Winter street Weston, MA 02493-1040

Please notify us if your phone number, mailing address, or email address changes so that Rivers can stay in touch with you and your family. Contact Ashley McGlone at 339-686-2239 or a.mcglone@rivers.org.

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C a LLIN g a LL FU t U re maker S

rivers needs your help to cross the finish line of our Futuremakers campaign. Your support will help our students make the future extraordinary.

Don’t miss your chance to be part of this monumental campaign!

make a gift by June 30 at riversfuturemakers.com or by calling Kim fox, associate director of advancement, at 339-686-2245.