My name is Amber Liao and I was born and raised in Hong Kong. I am currently 16 years old and will be a sophomore at Putney. In my previous school, the arts were often overshadowed, and unfortunately for me, I am a big fan of the arts. This is why when I heard about Putney’s art program I became enamored with the school.
Photography has always been a passion of mine. Whether it was helping my school magazine take photos or working with National Geographic for an article, it was the concept of telling stories through a quick snapshot that really drew my attention. One of my absolute favorite things to take photos of are my friends; through the hundreds of photos we take together there will always be that one photo that has a true and genuine smile shine through. Which in return allows me to always cherish those moments.
Living in Hong Kong, I have been exposed to its hustling and bustling crowd bursting with frenetic energy. Hong Kong may seem like gleaming skyscrapers and fast-moving rivers of pedestrians. However to me, what I will mostly miss — nestled in the hidden alleys and corners of the city — is the allure of the art of Hong Kong. I’m looking forward to starting a new chapter of my life and I can’t wait to diversify my world views and experience new opportunities.
Hello Putney community, and welcome back to another (or maybe your first!) year at Putney! My name is Jason, and I am a junior here on the hill. I am returning to Putney from NYC (currently known as Plague Inc.) where I live with my parents, my younger brother, and our very stupid dog. This year I’m residing in Old Boys as a dorm head, so if you’d like to chat you are welcome to stand outside and yell to me :).
I started at Putney in September 2018, after having found the school through a family friend who actually happened to be a former Putney music director (check your sing book to verify! Inez is a very lovely person). I was and still find myself astounded at the opportunities Putney (as a campus and a community) had opened up for me.
I’ve always been drawn to the arts, whether it be painting, drawing, acting or writing, and this school is definitely an excellent place to explore those. Even through a pandemic, art at Putney has found a way (take it from me — I attended remote Putney Arts this summer).
Hi! My name is Lila and I am a junior at The Putney School. I was born in Portland, Ore., and I grew up there, as well as in a small town in Pennsylvania. After middle school, I transferred to a boarding school outside of New York City and my parents moved to Vermont and Rhode Island. My whole life, I’ve moved around a lot. In fact, this summer was the longest I’ve stayed in one place, ever.
Despite all of the chaos that comes from moving around, I’ve always appreciated the different opportunities that my many homes have given me. If it weren’t for my stint in Vermont, I wouldn’t have found out about Putney, for example.
What drew me to Putney was the freedom to explore who you could become. I often found that schools were very keen on students “finding themselves” but didn’t allow for much room to try different things out. I don’t feel that way about Putney. Putney allows you to experiment and learn about who you are and what you can be.
In the spring of my junior year, my dreams came true: I learned how to milk a cow. Since I was a small child, cows have always been my favorite animal. Perhaps a strange choice, one that my friends and family often questioned, but one that, nonetheless, I stuck with. There was something about these big, lumbering animals that I adored. So when I came to Putney I relished the day that I would get to work with these creatures. Instead of dreading it, like some of my peers, I couldn’t wait for my turn in the barn. I knew I wanted the one job that students either relish or absolutely despise: the job of milking the cows.
A barn crew is usually comprised of about seven students as well as one student barn head. Five of the normal crew workers do the jobs of mucking out stalls, feeding the cows and calves, clearing out gutters, and taking care of the animals in the small animal barn. The other two members are the milkers. On our training day when our crew boss asked who wanted to be a milker, my hand shot up without any hesitation.
I remember my first day, as I and my fellow milking partner were shown the ropes. We arrived earlier than the rest of the crew to set up the milk room: this included setting up the mechanical milkers (the machines used to milk the cows), washing out and sanitizing the tank (where all the milk goes after it comes from the cows), and hooking up the pipeline to the tank (so that the milk can flow from the machines to the tank). Once these tasks were done, we learned how to milk. We learned how to clean off the cow’s teats with warm, soapy water (a process that both cleaned them of any grime as well as let the milk down from their udders), how to check for mastitis by milking a couple squirts, by hand, into a cup and then checking for lumps, and finally how to hook up the machine to the pipeline and then to the cow and watch the milk flow out before removing the machine and dipping their teats in an iodine solution. All the steps got jumbled in my head and I was most certainly slow moving, but already, with my fumbly hands, I felt as though I was in my element and I was determined to get better. Each day I looked forward to my time in the barn, each day I learned a bit more and became a bit more skilled.
I felt at home among these big, stinky creatures that could potentially crush me at any moment. I enjoyed the repetition of the task at hand, the soft fur of the cows and their big blinking eyes. Of course, every day was not perfect and every cow was not perfect. Sometimes the cows kicked or a milking machine wasn’t working right. One time, my fellow milker and I forgot to put the cap on the milk tank after washing it and got through milking more than a third of the cows, before being notified of our mistake. This lost us gallons of milk and cost me a bucket’s worth of tears, but like I work to perfect my trigonometry skills in math class or my clarity in my essay writing, I worked through each bump I faced in my short career as a milker, determined to do as good of a job as I possibly could.
When all the cows were milked, we would clean up the milk room and set the milkers into their wash cycle, before turning off the light and leaving for the day. I would then exit the barn and walk to the locker room for a quick shower and a change of clothes. As I walked, I would often feel my body become filled with light. As I traversed the slightly damp soccer fields, in my barn clothes, which consisted of my student leader t-shirt, a bright pink crewneck sweatshirt for the chillier days, and forest green Carharts, I would breathe in my hay- and cow-scented self amid the smell of the clean air and muddy grass. I would turn my face to the clear blue sky, or the cloudy sky, or the rainy sky and smile, feeling the universe embrace me. Once I made it back to the locker room I would be brought back to the reality of life. There would be the yelling of freshman boys and the squeaking of their sneakers as they played a game of pick-up basketball on the court, somewhere someone would be playing loud rap music as they ran on the treadmill, and in the distance, there would be the screeching laughter of friends on the fieldhouse couches. I would walk into the girls’ locker room thankful to be alone and slip off my stinky armor, double bagging it trash bags so as to conceal the stench before tossing it in my locker. I would then move into the shower where I washed off the cow poop, stench, and that signature smell of sunshine, remembering the hour or so of refuge I found within the barn walls.
Milking was not simply a task, not simply something to get through or a credit to fill, and it was not simply a dream come true either. Milking was hard, stinky, rewarding work, but most importantly it was a job that made me leave the red and white, curving barn each day smiling, saying, “This is where I am meant to be.”
I have known for my whole life that I wanted to spend time abroad. The spring of my sophomore year I was fortunate enough to participate in Putney’s travel abroad program. It is hard to fully put into words the impact that this experience had on my education and me as a person. Through the program, I spent a trimester in France. It was a dream come true and an experience that has changed me forever.
I left the U.S as someone who had only taken a foreign language for two years and had never really traveled before, especially not internationally. I was prepared for an amazing trip, but I don’t think I was quite prepared for how life-changing it would be. Miles away from home, I found this new land that wrapped me up and gave me a new place to call home.
Don’t get me wrong, it was not always sunshine and unicorns. Half the time, due to the language barrier, I couldn’t understand what was happening. I remember the first night, my host mom drove us to her house telling us bits about herself and the town and all I could respond with was a tentative, “Oui.” As a result of my novice language skills, my nerves, and my exhaustion I barely understood a word she said!
A few weeks later I had my first day of French high school. In my first class, the teacher asked me a question. First, I couldn’t understand, then I didn’t know the answer to her question, and I was left stuttering in front of the whole class. I was mortified. Another day on a group outing, some sketchy man said something to me as I was hurrying to meet up with the rest of the group. I didn’t know what he was saying, but I couldn’t extract myself from the exchange which left him talking at me for close to twenty minutes and included an attempt to ask for my phone number before I was finally rescued by other students on the trip.
But, funnily enough, even these scary, awkward, uncomfortable moments filled me up with a sense of accomplishment and wonder.
And of course, there are all the magical moments I will never forget, like sitting by the ocean and sketching, feeling the droplets of seawater tickle my face as a sense of absolute belonging and joy bubbled out of me. I remember the days spent eating Nutella filled beignets, fancy macaroons, crêpes, or pain au chocolat, a warmth in my stomach and my heart. I remember the week when we visited Paris and I stood on top of the Eiffel Tower (even though I was scared half to death) and surveyed the sprawling city below, or the night I stood looking up, simply awed by the grandeur of Notre Dame, feeling as if I had just met my childhood idol. I remember after school ramblings, when I would take the bus to centre ville and eat pizza and chi-chis (churros) in the town square, feeling like a classy, independent, French teenager. I remember the night we went to a Breton rap concert and listened to two men drop beats in a Celtic language, an experience I will most definitely never have again. I remember the afternoon spent basking in the Brittany sun at a goat farm, happiness rampant through the air. I remember the mini adventures with my host mom where half the time we didn’t know where she was taking us, but we were always happy wherever we landed. I remember the walks to and from home or all around the tiny French town, Pont-Aven, where I felt like I fit just right. The list goes on and on.
And through the good, bad, and in between, through the not understanding while completely understanding, I was changed. I was grounded. I came back to the U.S, not ready to return and not wanting to leave my new home. I came back stronger in who I am and who I am becoming.
It has now been almost three years now since I spent this time in France. I constantly wonder how it could be that the years have gone by so fast, and despite this fact, I still think about or long for my time in France weekly. I hold dear to my heart the connections I made, the places I visited, the people who I shared laughs with. I close my eyes and see fields of yellow flowers, taste flaky baguette and buttery brie on my tongue, and feel the clear sunlight dance off my arms. When I open my eyes, my body warm with the memories, I stride out into the world, constantly searching for more of this tantalizing sparkle that I first found on the steep streets of a little town in France.
I was doing this extra project that Kevin had to put his time and effort into, and he was interested in my learning, so he sponsored me and I checked in with him periodically throughout the process.
This experience for me was normal. I didn’t really see much that was so special about it, but when I look back on it now, Kevin could have just said, “No, we don’t do independent studies in the spring,” and that would have been the end of it. But, that wasn’t what happened. He welcomed my idea with open arms and was excited the whole way through, ready to help whenever I needed him.
The main takeaway from this experience for me was that teachers at Putney really care about your learning, even if they don’t get any credit for doing it. For them, the important thing is teaching students and letting them explore their interests, not just following protocol. If a student wants to do something, if it somehow relates to some new learning area, nine times out of ten, Putney can make it happen for you. This is a school where sometimes the students drive the bus, not the teachers.
I’ve never done this much work in my life before. This term is back breaking, but I love it. It’s the winter of my senior year and in addition to my two math and independent physics classes, I’m on Work Committee and Admissions Committee. These are two leadership positions I have dreamed of doing since I set foot on this campus, as a younger, different version of myself.
Work Committee is comprised of two juniors and six seniors who run the Work Program. All students participate in the Work Program by doing one job per trimester ranging from “a.m. barn”, where six students milk, feed, and muck over 40 cows at 5 a.m., to “dish crew”, where eight students wash 700+ cafeteria dishes. These jobs are difficult but rewarding and the Work Committee oversees the students leading these crews, works with struggling students, and runs the jobs. The Work Program is one of the three pillars of Putney education, valued equally alongside academics and afternoon activities. Its value lies in becoming a participating community member everyone relies on and learning hands-on work, which many students here would not otherwise have the opportunity to do. I served on the committee my junior and senior years because I believe that working for one’s community is valuable and beneficial and I want to be an ambassador of this message.
This year I am also on admissions, a committee made up of eight seniors who read and vote on incoming applicants admission status for the following year (and write these blogs). We read roughly 25 applications a week. This position not only teaches me leadership, diligence, and discussion techniques, but also lets me shape the future of the school. My favorite part of this work is sitting in the beautiful light flooded admissions room with the committee, laughing and discussing the candidates.
The work I am doing is endless but I love every minute of it. When I look up I can see Putney shaped me into a better person and enabled me to develop my passions covered in a foot of glittering snow. I now have a chance to give back to my community in a fulfilling way.
As a first-year Spanish student on my way to Cuernavaca for a trimester, I remember first stepping foot in the airport of Mexico City. I wanted to ask where the bathroom was and with much insecurity of it being grammatically incorrect, I asked “Donde estas el baño?” (which translates to “Where are you, bathroom?”) I remember how it felt like reading a script out loud from a textbook and how foreign it felt to my tongue.
My trimester abroad trip took me from a Spanish 1 class and immersed me into a new language and life with a host family that spoke no English. I was pushed into the discomfort of not being able to ask what I needed immediately and had to be creative with my words. I once called toothpaste “jabon por dientes” which is “soap for teeth” and it felt like I had to improvise poetry on the spot due to my limited vocabulary. It was a weird feeling to not have any sentiment towards my words because they felt too distant and unattached to the language I was used to. By the end, I was intuitively using expressions and holding up conversations like I wasn’t speaking from a textbook. Throughout my trimester abroad, I learned so much about the importance of words and how integrated they are to our minds and lives and realized how often we are not deliberate with the words we use.
In a sense, I think this is really what Putney means by experiential education. Learning most of my Spanish in Mexico, I never had to use flashcards or memorize grammar rules. Instead, going to the cafe with my friends or buying a meal from a restaurant were ways of doing homework. In doing so, using Spanish phrases and expressions felt a lot more personal and less like it was coming from a textbook.
After a long summer of being away from home, I have finally returned, and Putney is exactly the way that I left it. The first day of classes arrive, and although the content has changed, there is an element of familiarity that I carry with me as I go about my daily routine. After what seemed like ages, the time for my Horseback Riding afternoon activity arrived, and I trekked down to the stable, where I’m always offered the chance to escape whatever stress or confusion I’ve faced throughout the day. When I arrived, I immediately noticed my favorite horse, Helen, in the communal pasture. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed riding until I saw her, and as I groomed her in preparation for a trail ride, it felt as if we were picking up right where we had left off in the spring.
Our class divided into the lesson group and the trail group, and we embarked on our supremely comforting and meditative journey over Sun Hill. Riding in the Vermont fall is perfect; the air is fresh and gentle, brisk but not harsh. Helen’s hooves crunch over leaves, and we rediscover our favorite parts of the trail together.
As we approached the end of the trail, I started to become glum; the worst part of horseback riding is always getting off. Thankfully, I know I’ll see Helen again the day after tomorrow.
I returned to campus a week ago as a Student Leader, and the first Sing wasn’t for three whole days. That may not sound like very long, but you must understand that in Putney Time, three days is almost three weeks. It was during that first, much anticipated and cherished Sing that I had an epiphany: a Putney School Sing, properly done of course, is a reflection of the Putney lifestyle. I will explain, but first, allow me to describe possibly one of the most beautiful, creative and challenging traditions here at the Putney School.
As my friend describes it, Sing is an “explosion of energy”. At one moment you may find joy, nostalgia, competition, tradition, calm, confusion or exhaustion. However, you will always find passion, union and eccentricity. At Sing respect and mockery can join in the same event, and impatience and imperturbability can reign. Sing is a unique experience to every person, and yet it is also a moment when all raise their voice in praise of the music they make and the power it seems to hold as it reverberates through the air. This is not to say every student sings on pitch or knows their part’s harmony, nor that the entirety of the school revels at every Sing. However, when they all do get their part just right, when the school rises as one for a specific song, when Cailin raises his hand to hold that moment just one second longer, and when each part settles in their discovered note and holds it: 220 some teenage students and faculty sing together on a hilltop. And that is as incredible as it sounds.
This first Sing was overflowing with energy and excitement. Looking at the faces in the room, both those of the new students and the returning leaders, you could see the passion and spirit being thrown into each song. Putney students put their heart and soul into life here. I always say that you can’t come to Putney and float along, you won’t get as much from it, you have to live it. Just as we don’t just sing a perfect tune, but instead personalize it, shouting, clapping and sometimes dancing our enthusiasm, so do we as students live and learn with vivacity. The passion in Sing is truly a moment of energetic living, sparked and exposed by music.
Sing also allows for a chance to reveal the roles we carry in our community. As a senior who loves Sing and has since her freshman year, I have challenged myself to go through my senior year Sings without a songbook. Simply because I think I know the songs that well. I am not the only one, yet every Sing we are all proved wrong at least once. Putney surprises us all, constantly, in Sing, but especially in the lives we live daily. As Albus Dumbledore said “Oh, I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts’ secrets…” We seniors especially tend to dream we know it all. Though we enjoy pretending, we are ever proved wrong in that awkward moment during a verse of an old favorite when suddenly we are all just humming. In days that could seem to become repetitive or even predictable in such a close community for such long days at a time, we somehow are refreshed in energy but the unknown, however small it may be.
Lastly, Sing connects. We have songs from Afghanistan, China, Japan, Korea, Australia, France, Mexico, South Africa and more places all over the world. Many of them are favorite songs that inspire moving moments every year. In the four years I have been at Putney I have had friends from many of the same countries. Each and every one making their mark upon the community and the school, and adding their voice to Sing. Over the summer, when my sister (class of 2008) returns home from France, we sing our favorite Sing songs. She has shared music from Putney all over the world, and it continues to connect us wherever we go. Sing inspires me, like the school it represents. The Putney lifestyle is one of learning and challenging, being loud and yet appreciating the silence. If you want to know Putney students, their community and lifestyle they lead, I suggest you come to campus on Thursday morning, and listen as you walk towards Calder Hall. See if you can name what it is that saturates the air and makes the wild adolescent calmly sing. And then see if you can get the song out of your head.
Learning isn't just in a classroom for this student who chose a small cabin instead of a dorm
by Lien '16
I have to admit, as much as I was grateful and excited to have the opportunity to live in a cabin, I was nervous to learn I would be living in the cabin next to Gray House, the furthest dorm from the center of campus (about a 10 minute walk). I mean, I know it doesn’t sound that tough but it’s just ridiculously inconvenient compared to how much closer all the other dorms are. After a few weeks, however, I have fallen completely in love with the place, with the long walk, and with everything else that it brings.
The first morning after my first night sleeping the cabin, we (meaning me and my cabin mate Ani) woke up to this absolutely breathtaking view of blue mountains in the distance, wrapped in big white fluffs of clouds, completely stationary. We were mesmerized initially by the stunning view out of our bay window, and then by the sense of isolation and contemplation it brings. Suddenly, walking next to where the cows graze, through the morning mist, I wasn’t bothered by the distance anymore. As the weather has cooled down as suddenly as it always does in Vermont, I have gotten really excited about having a fire in our wood stove. After many aggravating, failed attempts at starting a fire that lovely Ani has patiently guided me through (she’s more of a camper than I have ever been), I have started to get a hang of it.
Autumn brings delicious harvests and beautiful afternoons of gardening. Stuffing my pockets with beets, carrots, tomatoes, peppers, and brussel sprouts, I carried them back to cabin. As soon as I got better at making my own fire, I got addicted. I found myself walking back to my cabin at around 8 every night, lighting a fire in the stove, and on it I roast the beautiful vegetables I got from the school’s gardens with olive oil and salt. They are simple, yet most delectable. On Sundays, we make avocado toasts and caprese salads. On some weekday nights, we make roasted brussel sprouts with balsamic vinegar reduction.
I still dread the winter, but the cabin life in the Fall has been more than perfect so far.
About two weeks ago was the annual beginning of what is commonly dubbed “The Plague”, an unspecified illness that inevitably manages to knock out half the school. Luckily, my roommate, K, and I have pretty ironclad immune systems, so we were both feeling fine. One of our friends, N, however, always seemed to be the first to succumb to whatever’s going around, so when she came into our room at 3:30 on a Tuesday morning, asking K to sub for her job –AM barn head– it wasn’t all that surprising. The only catch: N was supposed to bring in the cows from the field that morning and K had never done it before and was reluctant to do it on her own. So I offered to go with her to bring them in. That being settled, we set our alarms for 5:10 and N went back downstairs to try and sleep for a few hours. I finally managed to get back to sleep myself and then my phone went off. Time for barn.
I pull on my barn jeans which I’d kept from a year and a half ago when I had barn (you never know when you’re going to need them again) and a sweatshirt, grab my glasses and a flashlight; we’re ready in 2 minutes flat. We climb up Noyes hill and head towards the barn, the sun barely beginning to rise. “Oh nice”, I think, “at least I get to watch the sunrise.” We stop at the barn long enough to flick on the lights and grab The Stick (used to slap the cows if they won’t move) and start off towards the pastures.
The problems begin when we get to the top of the pasture and realize that we keep thinking the trees are cows. Visibility was going to be an issue. Issue two: where to look? The cows could either be down back towards Noyes or in the opposite direction near Gray House. We can’t see them from here, but for the sake of certainty, I suggest that we double-check the Noyes field before taking the longer walk to Gray House. K agrees and we jog down the path. (FYI: getting from one field to another takes a while—way longer than you would think.) No cows. Okay, fine; they must be by Gray House. We turn around and walk up the other way, straining our eyes for any movements in the distance. Nothing. At this point we’re getting a little worried. We check the time (5:35, we’ve been looking for about 15 minutes now) and keep going. A little while later, a sighting! (Wait, are you sure they aren’t bushes? No, they’re definitely breathing!)
We duck under the electric fence and find ourselves looking at about 8 cows. Where are the other 30? We get those moving and see the two milkers on their way to the barn from Gray House. They have to have passed the other cows on the way. “Have you seen the other cows?” “Nope.” At this point we’ve passed worry and have moved on to incredulousness. Where are they?! They can’t have disappeared into thin air! It’s 5:45 now and we have a quarter of the herd. We send the cows to the barn with the milkers and consider our next actions.
Shortly after we have a moment of triumph thinking we’ve found them, but it turns out to be the horses. Frustrated, we debate going back to the barn without the rest of the herd but I’m reluctant and K points out that we haven’t looked further up the field yet, they have to be over there. We climb up the path to the top of the field and look over the mountains. The sun has risen by now, but still we find nothing. Not a single living thing. It’s 6:00 and there’s nothing to do but go back to the barn and tell the Farm Manager that they must have been abducted by aliens or something. The whole walk back we go over again and again where they could possibly be. (Pete didn’t keep them in to trim their hooves, right?)
Suddenly we see the last few cows trailing into the barn, the rest already hitched up and being milked. We run through the doors, flabbergasted. Where on earth did they come from? The clock reads 6:12. We have literally been looking for them for an hour and here they are. We go through the rest of barn in a bit of a daze, looking for some sort of explanation. There was no way we had overlooked them, we had searched everywhere.
By the time we got back to the dorm for a shower, the best we could come up with was that a couple of the cow-shaped bushes right at the top of the first hill were actually about 30 cows and they just walked themselves down while we were looking near Gray House. Go figure.
Four years after taking Humans in the Natural World, I decided to jump back into studying ecology at Putney this fall through a class called “Physiological Ecology”. As it tends to do, Putney curriculum has taken us into the world of hands on experience. Most of our blocks are spent out in the woods “reading the landscape” or discussing various ecological disturbances and the marks that they leave behind on our ecosystems. However, more recently the class incorporated a community service component to these field investigations.
Recently, The Putney Mountain Association has been dealing with an ongoing issue of the invasive species Buckthorn on the Putney Mountain summit. With the intention of working to reduce the population of Buckthorn, the PMA uses sheep browsing each season. The results have been significant over the past several years, but they need to be documented. Since our ecology class is anticipating a unit on conducting transects and species documentations (through stem counts and percent coverage estimations) of our own, it makes sense that we be the ones to do the job! This way, when the time comes to conduct our individual field studies later in the term, we won’t need any introduction, allowing us to further hone our own observations.
Over the past several weeks, we have spent class periods out on the mountain collecting data through our transects and entering information into a comprehensive report. We have learned many skills commonly used by field ecologists: proper pacing techniques, compass use, and setting up transect points in the field. As a student primarily interested in Biology, I appreciate the experience that we are gaining and the real world applications that our work is serving.
Inspiration is tough to find. It hides in corners behind imposing guidelines and sometimes paralyzing fear of assignments. A teacher helped me find inspiration and the urge to write in Say What You Mean, one of the English courses offered here. She told me to picture the “one inch frame” – a reference from Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird – and describe what I saw. I immediately saw an image of a bowl I made in ceramics the evening prior, and as my focus converged on the top corner, out poured the description: sensations, emotions, history, and personal connection. It felt right to let loose without bound or reason, without editing or revising, and to just type and type and type.
Until recently, I was not a writer. I am still not a writer, but I am not afraid to write about myself or what’s around me. The “one inch frame” exercise helped me find inspiration and gave me permission to explore writing as a means of understanding observations and thoughts. This morphed into a college essay, and later, into an understanding of what I would like to pursue in life. I found that investing in tactile description and writing without fear can coax inspiration out if its corner.
Standing in a massive sea of people decked out in pink hats and wielding creative signs, I immediately thought back to around three month ago when I first approached Emily Jones, the head of school, and asked if we could take a school trip to the Women’s March on Washington. When Emily said yes, I never imaged that we would be joining a global chain of marches with over five million participants, all fiercely advocating for women’s rights. As a school, we filled up two giant coach buses with over 100 students and faculty, and hit the road early Friday morning. After eleven hours, we arrived at the elementary school gym where we would camp out for the night.
During my sophomore year I attended the Climate March in New York City, but this endeavor was on a whole new scale. We installed tracking apps, gathered phone numbers, assigned meeting places, painted t-shirts, and printed maps of Washington D.C., the whole deal!
Admittedly, at first I was quite nervous to march. But after complete strangers offered me granola bars and three people helped lift me onto a wall so I could get a better view, I realized what a compassionate environment we had created. Over 700,000 people attended without a single arrest. Small children sat on their parents shoulders, proudly holding up their hand drawn signs and chanting boldly.
At school, we continue to talk about the march and what our next steps should be. We are discussing intersectionality: how some participants of the march emphasized white feminism or trans exclusionary slogans and imagery, and how different marginalized communities felt that their voices were underrepresented. While the march was not perfect, I am really glad that Putney made the effort to attend, representing our viewpoints and taking place in this crucial facet of democracy.
Before I came to Putney I was really shy. I was afraid of public speaking, even just thinking about it. The first time I gave a speech was during the project week last winter. I conducted an independent research on social psychology and wanted to share my results about how the behavior of wasting food and appreciating kitchen work reflects people’s self-esteem. There was one year I studied about people’s misunderstandings about poverty in America, and I wrote a research paper about it. However, I felt only writing a paper was not enough, I wanted to let more people hear my voice. So, I decided to give a speech. And I knew that for more people to hear my voice, it was necessary to overcome my fear.
I remembered a quote from the art building, written by a Putney student, that said, “Do the scary thing first, then get scared later.” I followed their advice to do the scary thing first, and I found out, surprisingly, that I was very comfortable on stage – and even enjoyed it! After I did my speech, many people from the audience found me during lunch and told me that they became more aware of wasting food and showing appreciation to the workers because of my speech. This successful experience made me want to do another psychology project during the next project week and give another public speech. I realized that if I do the scary thing first, then there are many valuable opportunities and some fun facts about myself to discover.
As a four year senior at The Putney School, I have had a lot of time to experiment with what interests me. As a younger student, I focused primarily on art. I took drawing classes and worked in Putney’s studios often. However, during my time here, my focus gravitated towards the sciences, and later, I realized that I could combine the two.
During project week this past fall, I created structures, both artistic and environmentally productive, made with a combination of mycelium (the network-like organism of a mushroom), sawdust from Elm Lea Farm and rye grain. I began my project by creating bags of substrate that I inoculated with liquid cultures that contained mushroom spores (that would later germinate into a mycelium). The first round of bags was just a test, but in the spring, I will cut them open once the substrate is colonized, and cut and shape the colonized substrate into the sculpture that I have in mind. My intention was for this first project week to act as a “test trial” for my spring project where I will actually create my sculpture. I used different substrates in my project to see which one yielded the most mycelial growth after a two-week period. The rye grain proved to be the most successful, and I am planning on continuing to grow mycelium throughout the winter so that once spring comes, I will have plenty of material ready!
My hope is that during the spring, I will be able to time the process so that the sculpture will actually fruit mushrooms towards the end of project week. The shape of the sculpture will take on a form that the fruiting mushrooms will complement, allowing for it to be partially under my control, and partially under the control of the natural inclination of the mushrooms themselves.
From films to farms, this student has lots of questions
by Kristina '17
In the spring of senior year, Putney students are given the opportunity to drop two of their classes and pursue a large independent project. Known as exhibitions, these projects are usually deeper investigations of topics or disciplines a student has already studied at Putney that simultaneously bring a new lens or idea to the table.
I emerge from the depths of my exhibition to write this blog post, so I can definitely say first hand how engaging and rigorous they can be!
For my project, I decided to expand upon a topic I became interested in after making a linoleum block print on gender inequality in the Academy Awards, specifically the experience of women in male dominated industries. But instead of printmaking or creating a zine (which I did for my fall project week), I decided to produce a documentary film. In retrospect, it was a slightly crazy idea to direct, edit, film, and conduct interviews all by myself. From about the halfway point now, I can say that I am somehow making it work and developing helpful techniques along the way.
Living in Vermont, many of the women I have talked to work in agricultural or manual labor based industries such as logging, farming, stonemasonry, carpentry, etc… It has been amazing traveling around New England to meet people and hear their stories. I think that too often we focus on statistics and not the real people who live within the ramifications of those statistics every day. I hope that in the end my film can provide some sorely lacking representation and help young women see that certain industries don’t have to be considered a “man’s job”.
Living in Putney for three years, I know that Putney is a unique place where students can embrace diverse voices and different cultures. In this small community, it’s always amazing that you can get close to people who come from different cultural and educational backgrounds. What’s more extraordinary is that Putney is extremely open toward involvement of the student body. Most students, more or less, take on some form of responsibility or leadership at Putney. As student heads of school, Charlie and I, luckily, get chances to take the lead of different student leadership groups and work along with them to serve this community.
Charlie and I have been working together for over a year. We both served on the Standards Committee and continued our cooperation afterwards with curating the LitMag. Charlie and I come from very different places. He comes from New York City and now lives in Denver, while I spent my life in Shanghai, China before I came to Putney. Charlie has more opportunities to listen to American students, whereas I work closely with international students. We are totally different as individuals, but we are excited to work together to represent the diversity of this community. Aside from our weekly jobs, which include holding Monday assembly and Wednesday school councils, we also want to create better format of presenting weekly events as well as continuing student leadership slides.
Putney is a small community with more than 200 students, but Charlie and I are eager to create a place where the extent of perspectives is broad and includes voices from everyone, ranging from freshmen to seniors. Undoubtedly, being student heads of school is a challenging task for both of us, but we are excited to take on this responsibility and make change in this community.
Exploring the role of migrant workers in the dairy industry
by Miye '17
On May Day, eight Putney students marched in Burlington for Milk with Dignity. It was organized by Migrant Justice, a group fighting for migrant dairy worker rights in Vermont. Around 250 people marched in solidarity with the workers, who were in front leading the parade. The protesters all chanted with enthusiasm: “Get up, get down, milk with dignity has come to town”.
I have been researching issues around migrant workers in Vermont’s dairy industry for almost a year. Putney has supported and allowed me to find various ways I could continue exploring the topic. With a senior exhibition, three project weeks and one independent course dedicated to my research, I continue to pursue my goal of raising awareness in the community and learning about a topic I am passionate about. I have worked at two dairy farms which allowed me to have an in-depth experience and see first-hand some of the issues migrant dairy workers are fighting for. I have also investigated where the school’s dairy products come from and how they influence our local community.
This experience has taught me how complex the issue is. We don’t realize how vulnerable migrant workers are and how essential they are to our economy. I’m organizing a panel this summer with people from all sides of the issue. I hope to raise awareness and start meaningful conversation, and hopefully see change, for these workers.
One of the most popular arts at Putney is fiber arts, where students learn to work with textiles, doing everything from weaving fabric to sewing their own clothing to felting miniature sculptures. I’ve been working in the fiber arts studio since my junior winter, and since I started I have been interested in creating a piece that many people could work on.
For project week I decided to set up a loom on which anyone who wanted to could come and weave part of a rug. I really enjoy collaborative art pieces, mostly because it gives observers the opportunity to get a glimpse of everyones’ artistic minds as influenced by those who worked before them.
This rug has truly been a passion project for me. With every person who works on the project with me, I get to see patterns and color combinations that I would never have thought to put together, but that blend flawlessly with the work of the artists that wove previously.
For me, this rug represents something that I love about Putney – the community. It always amazes me how many of the people at this school, no matter their background, are able to come together for one common theme, like working in the barn, performing in the theater, or weaving a rug together. This project has no doubt been my favorite so far, and I feel so honored to be able to immortalize this sense of community in a 4 foot by 6 foot piece of art.
I started rowing my sophomore year of high school, which was also my first year at The Putney School. I joined the team as an ex-swimmer from Hong Kong, nervous about trying a new sport at a new school; however, I soon fell in love with rowing and the team at Putney. I made some of my closest friends on the rowing team, and I’ve rowed every year since. Looking back as a senior I’m so grateful for all of the experiences I’ve had and lessons being on the rowing team has taught me.
Rowing is a competitive sport, so the team practices for an hour and a half Monday through Friday, and often travels for regattas on the weekend. This commitment taught me how to manage my time well at Putney. I wrote papers on our bus rides, and did my Shakespeare homework in hotel rooms. However, all of my everyday stress was left behind when I got onto the water. Rowing has taught me about determination, dedication, and the rewards of hard work. These are all lessons that I’m grateful for, and will take with me when I leave Putney.
Lights, camera, and lots of mistakes to learn from
by Darius '18
This past project week I decided to apply for an off-campus project, in order to film a documentary at my uncle’s antique shop in New York City. Once my application was accepted to spend a week away from the Putney campus, I came to the realization that I was being given quite a bit of freedom. Once I made it to New York, I was giddy with my new independence. I was now able to create the film that I had envisioned; a documentary about the life of my Iranian, antique-dealing uncle.
The first two days were a mess of bad planning and logistical organization. What else could one expect for two amateur filmmakers in New York making a movie by themselves? We traveled around the city hunting down equipment for our obsolete HDV film camera from 2004. We took shaky footage with horribly mixed audio. We scuffed valuable antiques with our camera equipment. There was a lot of trial and error. In the end we were able to make a messy but truthful movie which we were both proud of. We spent hours in a dusty antique shop collecting video of my uncle in all of his eccentricity. We learned that you should not purchase standard definition tapes for an HD camera. We learned that you should listen to audio levels before recording. We learned to ask the questions that provoke interesting answers. All in all, I think it was the most I’ve ever learned in a project week. The response I received to my film was really reassuring, and I am now considering making my 20 minute short into a full feature.
My first project week I wanted to do two things: write a short film and make sushi. Of course making sushi didn’t seem feasible. I didn’t know who would sponsor a project like that, and back then you had to connect your projects with one of your activities, and sadly we do not offer a sushi making class (yet). I then remembered talking to one of my Long Fall leaders back in the beginning of the year about how her husband also likes making sushi. He was my creative writing teacher at the time, so I approached him about the project. He told me he would be happy to sponsor me and that I should just write that it connects to creative writing and not to worry about it.
Sure enough, my project got approved and for two weeks we made sushi every night over at his faculty apartment, learning and practicing for a whopping six course sushi meal we were planning for six attendees. Courses included a special roll we made up and lemon sorbet with beet glass. In retrospect, the dessert was the hardest thing to make, even though it had zero connections to sushi.
Fast forward a bit over two years, and we just had our fourth sushi dinner this past fall. We now upgraded to over twelve courses, but kept the six person limitation. Now we have more than one special rolls and more than one overly complicated desserts that take up way too much time. I wouldn’t have thought this was possible back then and I’m still not sure how it all worked out now.