Simon’s Rock: Now & Then

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

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The ceremony itself was rather uninteresting, but watching former new students graduate felt both familiar and strange; familiar in how their names unlocked frozen memories; yet strange and haunting in how much time had passed. Everyone I 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 no longer belong here.

Then came the tirade from the provost, on how they "bought" our school, only to kill it themselves. Bullshit. Total bullshit. They may still call it "early college" and slap the name "Simon's Rock", but everything is gone: the students, the faculty, the curriculum, and the spirit.

It reminded me of my AA commencement, the cheers, the laughter, the sunlight. But here we are, standing on a muddy field beside an old seminary building (which itself went out of business a decade 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 on us at every angle.

At least we caught up with a few old professors. There truly wasn’t much left of the faculty we knew: David retired, Eric left, and the math department was gutted. Professor Wang was still there. She really missed our Chinese 320, our “Chinese Army,” and our unparalleled energy. We had fabulous people and a really tight community that once made 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 was changed.

Mod 7 was locked now. Staring through the glass, I remembered the generations of students who called it home. I remembered the exact way I used to arrange 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 ourselves, may never step back again.

The Physics classroom was hollowed out. My mind still echoed on that April Fools’ Day, how we all tricked Mike with the wrong answer. Now, the room was stripped bare, so was the laughter, left only to the quiet dust of cardboard boxes, packing tape, and cold notes reading “Moving to Bard.”

I remembered countless late-night chem lab sessions and office-hour grinds. Now, David had gone into retirement, leaving behind rows of silent chemicals and equipment. As the sun began to set, colors flickered across the empty benches, igniting every abandoned glass with brilliant shades of orange, pink, and violet.

I stared at the glow, wondering if they were trying to analyze the flame one last time. Sodium? Calcium? Potassium? But the burners were cold, the notebooks were closed, and the only element left in the room, was loneliness.

The trees in front of Fisher remained calm. They stood, just like this, during those long, quiet summers and winters, when I used to step out of the lab just to take a photo.

Seasons change. Winds can always come and strip away the leaves, scattering us into the unknown. But our memories are different. They are deeply rooted in this soil.

Even SoCo had changed hands. The town itself kept its warm, cozy embrace, but everything just felt so different.

Late night, we made one last visit to Lake Mansfield. I stared out across the lake–dim, cold, and utterly placid. I remembered countless times I had walked past this water, with different people in different times. Time flies by, and our paths parted. Now, I was by myself, wrapped in total darkness.

We know not when the next daylight will return
May the dark keep our memories, forever.

Good night, Simon's Rock.