Simon’s Rock Visit

After graduation, move-out, and commencement, I was grateful for the privilege to step back to Simon’s Rock and attend the ceremony.

The ceremony itself wasn’t very interesting, but watching former new students and Think Tank tutees graduate feels both familiar and strange. It was familiar how their names resonated in my mind, unlocking a vault of memories I had frozen for two years. Yet, it was strange and haunting on how much time had passed; everyone I once knew well had transferred or graduated. I was left standing there alone, in a place that’s no longer my campus, surrounded by people who were no longer my peers. I simply don’t belong here.

Then came the tirade from the provost and trustees, preaching about how they “bought” our school, only to kill it themselves. Bullshit. Total bullshit. They still call it “early college”, and it still somehow bears the name “Simon’s Rock”, but everything is different. The student, the professors, the curriculum, and most importantly, the spirit.

It made me remember the good old days of my AA commencement. The cheers, the laughter, the sunlight. There we are, standing on a muddy field beside an old church school building (which itself has gone out of business 30 years ago) that now serves as classrooms, labs, library, dining hall, and dorms. Looking at the meager list of graduating students today, it’s painfully obvious how Bard is encroaching us at every angle.

At least, I got to catch up with some old professors. There truly isn’t much left of the faculty we knew. David has retired; Eric left; all good math profs are gone. But Professor Wang is still there teaching Chinese. She really missed the times in Chinese 320, our “Chinese Army”, as we called it back then. We were unparalleled in our energy that year; everyone was constantly fighting to perform, pre-reading materials, and racing for participation. There were some interesting drama back then, but us 20-22 students is really THE best years of Simon’s Rock, with fabulous people, and more importantly, a really tight-knit community that makes SR truly feel like home.

With Mike, we had a tour of the dead Simon’s Rock campus, reminding me of these memories. It was a long day, but absolutely fabulous. It’s been two years, and everything is changed.

Mod 7 was locked now. Staring outside, I remembered the generation of students who called it home. I remember the way I arranged my room, and the countless sunset photos I took from my window. My banner and curtain were still there, so were the chairs, but we, may never come back again.

The Physics classroom is hollowed out. My mind still echos on that April Fools’ Day, how we all tricked Mike with the wrong answer. Now, the room is stripped bare, left only with cardboard boxes, tape, and cold notes reading “to be moved to Massena.”

Chem lab felt the heaviest. I remember countless late-night lab sessions and office-hour grinds. Now David has retired, leaving behind shelves of chemicals and equipments. The sun began to set, casting flickering reflection across the lab benches, painting every glass tube with a different shade or orange, pink, and purple. I stared at the light, wondering if they were trying to analyze the color one last time. Is is Sodium? Calcium? Potassium? But the lab is dead, the tests are over, and the only element left in the room, is loneliness.

The trees in front of Fisher remains calm. They stood, just like this, during those long, quiet summers and winters, when I’d step out of the lab just to take a photo of them. Seasons change. Some wind will always come and wipe away the leaves. But our memories are different. They are deeply rooted here.

Even the SoCo in town had changed hands. The town itself still felt warm and cozy, but everything just felt so different.

Late night, we had one last visit to Lake Mansfield. As they chat, I stared at the lake. It was dim, cold, and placid. I remember countless times I had walked past the lake, with Charles, with Jay, with Anthony, with my crush. Now, I’m staring into the water by myself, in total darkness.

We know not when the next dawn here will come
May the memories remain here forever

Good night, Simon’s Rock