By Megha Poddar ’15, Editor-In-Chief

More than once or twice have I spoken to my fellow peers, when at some point the word “prison” has come forward to describe Newark Academy. I have heard this word spoken repeatedly over the course of my seven-year journey in these hallowed halls, mostly in a light-hearted, joking tone, and I must admit that I can recall instances where I too have been the direct perpetrator of this weighty commentary about our school, even though we all know Newark Academy is clearly not a prison.

The word and its use are products, of course, of the big three pervading too many students’ minds: college, pressure, and stress. I have felt the sentiment myself — in moments of desperation and pressure, blaming it on the “prison” and the system it represents. Yet, conflating a term (which for too many in our country is resonant with abuse, terror, and violence) with school in general not only desensitizes our community to the realities affronting those outside our bubble of privilege and education, but it also is extremely disrespectful to our teachers and administrators who do truly care about our intellectual and personal growth and development.

Perhaps it takes the length of high school to realize this. Perhaps it takes seven years. During the time of inevitable reflection that comes during the second semester of senior year, when you are three months away from graduation and have one foot out the door already, I have found a culture of respect and gratitude come to fruition among my peers and grade.

I speak for myself and, I am absolutely sure, for the rest of my class, when I say that Newark Academy is a very special place; I only wish I realized that earlier. Everyone has their favorite part, but in my heart I believe it all boils down to the teachers who make up the backbone of our experiences here. I can’t imagine my education here without Ms. Tavares, who back in sixth grade transformed our small classroom on Halloween to another (far more spooky) science world, and Mr. Ball, who with his iconic “Bubba-de-gay” made it his mission to make every class better and better. Or later with Profe (Señor Romay) who, after our first quiz, taught the class Cuban dancing to show us that learning in his class would be a party everyday, and Arky, who never failed to bring back a backpack full of Dutch chocolate after a trip to Amsterdam. With Mr. Scerra, who unexpectedly stayed silent during an entire English class to show us that we could function without his guidance, and Mr. Hawk, who interrupted our IB coursework because he wanted the class to read a “really cool” book he had just finished. And with Dr. DiBianca, a master of philosophy but also of Shonda Rhime’s Scandal, regularly discussing his musings on the latest episodes with his students. I could go on and on, drawing on memories that paint a picture of Newark Academy as quite the opposite of a prison in every single way.

As this is the last set of The Minuteman under the current editorial staff, we implore you to reflect on the nature of our school, and the lengths to which our teachers go to ensure that this haven of education is not reminiscent of any prison. We are nurtured by our teachers and administrators every step of the way, and cultivated to become more than just successful students—successful, and happy, human beings. It’s better to realize that before you are on the brink of graduating, before you have one foot out the door.