<p>Hey everyone.</p>
<p>I'm entering Deerfield Academy as a freshman this fall. While researching for more first-hand information about campus life, I chanced upon a couple of Facebook albums showing girls dressed in Lilly Pulitzer (in fact, all of the girls were wearing Lilly). I'm rather concerned because I would never purchase, or have the means to purchase, any piece of clothing anywhere close to that price range, and thus stick out like a sore thumb.</p>
<p>I also found this Op/Ed article in The Scroll, Deerfield's magazine, which reflects that I'm not the only one facing this problem in Deerfield.</p>
<p>I quote:
"When someone asks you to write a reflection on the past four years at Deerfield, you can only laugh. What could I possibly write thats meaningful, thats a testimony to the four years Ive spent here? Where do I start with another truth yet cliché about my eye-opening classes or life-long friendships?</p>
<p>No, instead, this is for those who want the truth, that unintelligible truth beneath the intelligible lie. This is for those who have felt misplaced, humiliated, miserable, and simply unhappywhat we are not supposed to feel at our new home.</p>
<p>I wish I could say I loved Deerfield. But as the previous Op/Ed editor who sought and demanded truth, its my turn to present my truth.</p>
<p>Lets start from the beginning. Its hard to remember small details from freshman year, except the funniest ones such as the time when Rose handle-barred me into the rose bushes in front of the MSB, or when Mrs. Heise called Teds voice sultry, and we burst into laughter after he looked up the definition in Websters. Funny moments intertwine and uplift my memories of freshman year, but frankly it was a time when I felt awkward, estranged, and miserable.</p>
<p>My parents taught me to love myself, that I was special. I believed in this, but I wasnt from Greenwich, CT. I wasnt white, I was a day student, and I couldnt dare to stray from J. Crew or Ralph Lauren. I believed in myself, but I needed to conform. I pretended I loved the Greer nightlife (because clearly everyone else did), and I pretended I loved spending all hours in Ashley instead of cooking dinner with my family. All because I needed to fit in, because I needed to belong.</p>
<p>What was wrong with me? Everyone around me was praising us for being the smartest kids, and everyone around me seemed to unite under their love for Deerfield and the motto, Be worthy of your heritage. It seemed as if everyone was happy; why couldnt I be the same? Why did I need to pretend happiness?</p>
<p>But it wasnt just me. I saw my friends, too, frantically order Jack Rogers online, complain about the Greer, and fear walking alone, lest they look like loners.</p>
<p>My wake-up call came from the strangest source. My sister, then a senior, told me an absurd comment that her music teacher, Mr. Pandolfi, had made. She said he was worried that I, at his lunch table, rarely ate. I laughed with my sister (because everyone in my family knows how much I adore food), but I realized then that the twisting feeling in my stomach during study hall was hungerhunger for food, hunger for acceptance, but most of all, hunger for happiness.</p>
<p>The stress of not being, but trying my hardest to be, the white, preppy, beautiful Deerfield Girl was stopping me from being happy."</p>
<p>Could someone from Deerfield shed some light on this?</p>
<p>(Please don't tell me that I should have done my research before applying. I always knew that Deerfield had a preppy culture, but it never struck me that it was so serious and prevalent.)</p>