The Wachtell brothers sit on the Hill House steps.
The single most defining feature of my childhood? Sharing a bedroom with my younger brother. The bond between Tommy ’19 and me grew stronger with each midnight discussion that bounced between our twin-size beds and matching duvets. In that time, he taught me countless lessons: I learned how to cultivate empathy for a roommate; I came to understand what it means to be neat; and I made my first and longest friend in life.
Then, at 14, I decided to travel 3,000 miles away from our home, in Boise, Idaho, to boarding school in central Connecticut. I felt giddy about all that awaited me, but, after 12 years of sharing a room with Tommy, my heart ached at leaving him alone in that room.
For me, as I think is the case for most Choate students, coming to boarding school represented an opportunity to start anew. I loved and will always love my family, but when I hit 13 I became somewhat distant, and my parents grew frustrated. We were slowly falling into the clichéd rebellious and aloof teenager trope that every parenting book crusades against. Boarding school was the perfect peace treaty.
Upon my arrival on campus, to my own surprise, I didn’t feel homesick — not for a single passing-period second. And when I returned to Idaho, after having adjusted to the independence of freshman year, I felt drowned in attention and rules: always hang your towel up, always make your bed, go to sleep by a certain hour, don’t eat waffles for breakfast every day. Returning felt like re-watching my favorite childhood television show. It was nice to be reminded of the way things had been — to dip my toe into the pond of nostalgia for a minute — but soon I grew annoyed. Where was the freedom I’d been given at Choate?
Halfway through my sophomore year, Tommy made the decision to join me in Wallingford; the news made me both ecstatic and apprehensive. Idaho and Wallingford were distinct worlds, at odds with each other in my own mind and never meant to mix. They both struck me as home, yes, but in radically different ways. I worried that Tommy’s arrival would permanently reshape my time at Choate — that I would be thrust back into the rituals and routines of Idaho, all that I dreaded whenever I flew back.
That anxiety, of course, proved unfounded. Tommy came at the beginning of my junior year, and my two homes collided for the better. In fact, having a familiar face on campus helped me through some of the worst moments of stress and sleeplessness throughout junior year and senior fall.
Tommy’s arrival showed me that we, Choate students, often bid farewell to our families too nonchalantly; we grow up too quickly here. In the rush and excitement of freshman year, we can forget that we’re still 14, that our parents and siblings are still resources, and that relying on family as we transition to independence and adulthood is a sign of strength, not weakness.
I tell everyone who asks that coming to Choate was the best thing to ever happen to me. Seeing my brother following in my footsteps is a close second. Experiencing Choate with a family member, and in the meantime reconnecting with Idaho, has made these last two years exceptional.
So, with just two months before I graduate, here’s a bit of old-man advice: Don’t ignore your parents’ calls. Don’t ghost your childhood friends. Don’t hop off Facetime as quickly as possible. Don’t dread going on breaks. Use Choate to grow and mature, to become independent and learn to live alone, but don’t yet let go of home.
I made a mistake in my first two years here: I tried to compartmentalize Idaho and Wallingford, thinking that’s the only way to reach adulthood. But it’s never wrong to appreciate family and revel in the bonds of childhood. Indeed, in senior spring, I’m emphasizing just that.
