Hello From The Blog Editors!

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Hi, my name is Sylvie Gill and I am a sophomore boarding student. This is my fourth year at Hebron Academy. In the fall I play soccer, I ski in the winter, and I do track and field in the spring. A few of my favorite hobbies are reading, drawing, and playing the piano. 

I’m Louisa Strong and I’m a sophomore day student at Hebron. I’ve been going to Hebron since 6th grade. I dance year round and I ski for fun in the winter time. One of my favorite places is my family’s cabin on Frenchboro, an island off of Mount Desert. 

We are so excited to be the blog editors for the 2024 – 25 school year! We hope to upload articles and new stories consistently. The Hebron Blog is a place to find news about recent events at Hebron, work students are proud of, opinion pieces, and much more. We’re looking forward to making some big changes to blog, so keep an eye out!

The Boston Adventure

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By Sinan Coqui ’26

Our trip to Boston was an adventure from the very start. At 5:30 a.m., we started our journey, gathered bleary-eyed on the Sturtevant porch. Naturally, things couldn’t go smoothly at that early hour, so we had a minor setback when one of the bus drivers was missing in action. It turns out that he had forgotten to wake up to drive us to our train station. But thanks to some hurried organizing, we eventually made it to our train in Brunswick. After a long journey, we finally arrived at Boston’s North Station around 11:30 a.m., just an hour behind schedule. As we stepped off, we were immediately greeted by a familiar scent—Boston’s answer to New York’s “urban perfume,” otherwise known as the unmistakable smell of marijuana and scents of public urination.

After a short walk to Boston Common, we split into groups to explore the Freedom Trail, each group exploring a specific number of landmarks. Our assignment was to record videos where we presented the various historic sites to the camera. My group’s lunch spot was the Faneuil Hall, where there was chaos from a variety of food stands, each with its own unique menu and its own unique price tags. After lunch, we regrouped by the Paul Revere statue, then headed to the Bunker Hill Monument. We had some free time until 4:30 p.m., so I and a few others returned back to Faneuil Hall to check out some of the shops there. Then, after we all met again, we returned to North Station. The trip’s adventure was topped off by a long wait for our delayed train back. By the time we returned to Brunswick Station, Mr. Bonis drove us back to Hebron with his trademark speedy driving, bringing us home in record time.

Puzzle Pieces

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By Isa Fischer 26′

Imagine a kenspeckle individual, a child who appears free-spirited, unbothered by society, unafraid to stand out, living in a different key than the rest. Imagine how adults complimented and encouraged all of the strangeness and told the child it was a good thing. Imagine how the child’s parents told them that it was a good thing to be different, to stand out. Now imagine how lonely that child must be and how confused they are by their total lack of companions despite doing what they were told to do. A child going through life always feeling like the real them was buried beneath a circus-like facade. 

I was that child once upon a time. 

I am still that child looking back at myself.

I’ve always been a little  bit strange, but rather than quell that strangeness, the role models in my life encouraged it. I was told it was good to be odd; however, this seemed to cause kids my age to avoid me like the plague. Adults rewarded me with praise; the more I stood out, the more nauseating my fashion choices, the brighter my false smile. Eventually, I strayed so far away from the truth that I had lost sight of who I actually was. I was stuck. Stuck in a lie. All of our personalities  create beautiful puzzles, but I felt like half of my pieces were missing and the rest belonged to somebody else’s puzzle. Should I keep living this life of lies, glittering as bright as the sequence on my clothes? Or should I dive deep into the unknown depths of self-discovery and hope that I don’t hate what I find? I’d been living a ruse for so long that I wasn’t sure how to remove the mask and what I would find beneath it. 

Slowly I came to the realization that I must begin chipping away at my shield of lies before it suffocated me. It is very difficult to enact a change when those you trust have always told you to “never change,” and to just stay free from society. Little by little, I began to sort out which parts of my identity were real and which were not. Which parts were inflated to the point of making them unrecognizable and which were hidden behind layers and layers of falsities.

There were small things such as my favorite colors, not including pink, my plain brown hair kept down to my waist which I always hated, or the fact that I strongly disliked unicorns despite often being found wearing a unicorn horn headband. Then, there were also larger things beyond physical appearances. How I interacted with people was not genuine; I would not let myself feel my emotions, and I never displayed any facet of myself that my parents wouldn’t like. I was not being my authentic self so I could not make real connections with my peers, or with anyone for that matter. 

As I began to strip away my falsities, I began to find my sense of self. Piece by piece, I uncovered bits of myself, hoping that I could fit all of the pieces together to reveal who I actually was. Sometimes, I found a piece that didn’t seem to fit in with my puzzle, but I realized that if I found enough pieces, it would eventually have somewhere to fit in, so I kept searching. As my own puzzle grew, so did my confidence, so did my connections with people, and so did my comfort in my own skin. I became more felicitous, and I was finally able to begin to live my life in a way that made me happy. 

Looking back at who I used to be, I have made bounds of progress toward piecing together who I am, but there will always be more to uncover because I know now that there is no such thing as a permanent state of self. The puzzle I am piecing together of myself will change as I do; I will find new pieces, and lose a few as well, but no matter what pieces I have, I do not have to hide the picture it creates. I will probably be a slightly different person in a few weeks than I am now, and I do not owe it to anyone to pretend to stay the same. The journey of self-discovery is never done because humans change as we grow, as we learn, and as we gain new experiences. 

Girl’s Varsity Soccer MAISAD Semi-Finals

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By Riley Phillips ’27

Last Wednesday, the Girls Varsity Soccer (GVS) team faced off against Kents Hill in the MAISAD Semifinals. Just two Wednesdays ago, we played Kents Hill and lost with a final score of 4-6. After a rough season of losses, we arrived at Kents Hill ready to turn our season around. With a TWEET from the ref’s whistle, the game kicked off. Within the first 5 minutes, Kents Hill sunk one into the back of our net off of a corner kick. While this quick goal was demoralizing, we kept our heads up and continued to fight. With only 6 minutes left in the first half, Kents Hill scored yet another goal off of a penalty kick as a result of a foul within the 18-yard box. 

Going into the second half with a score of 0-2 was quite unencouraging, but in the 55th minute, Oda Maier ‘26 scored off a corner kick! Putting one on the board perked the whole team up and Evie Willer ‘26 scored another beautiful goal just over 15 minutes later. With the score now 2-2, it was anyone’s game. Unfortunately, Kents Hill scored again, making it 2-3 and putting Hebron in the losing position once more. We continued pushing offensively and were granted a direct kick just outside of their 18-yard box. Evie Willer took the kick and Riley Phillips ‘27 (me) tapped it into the goal, tying up the game once more to 3-3.  We ended regulation playing time as a tie, meaning we were heading into overtime! 

The whole team was brimming with excitement but also very exhausted from having already played 90 minutes of soccer and now being asked to play 20 minutes more. Hebron’s girls were looking strong in overtime though, getting off quite a few shots on goal. In the second 10-minute half of overtime, 3 or 4 Hebron girls collided with 2 Kents Hill girls within our box. It was all very confusing, but the ref granted Kents Hill another penalty kick. In the 103rd minute of playing time, the opposing team scored, making the score 4-3. That score would be the final score. The ref’s whistle blew one last time, marking the end of our soccer season and the end of one of the most exciting games of soccer in GVS history.

Duplicity 

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By Laura Zarko ’26

Chameleons are animals who change their color depending on different factors such  as light, temperature or emotions associated with anything that happens around them. They  are frightened easily and very often are a target of predators. Chameleons are very small and  harmless animals. However, these skills very often save their lives. It is weird to compare  yourself to a chameleon but if you think about it, we function pretty much the same way. It is  important to always stay yourself and don’t let other people affect the kind of person you  want to be. But sometimes I find myself in situations where it’s hard to be myself. Many  things go through my head. Should I fit in or should I be different? Should I be better or just  let them take the lead? Sometimes I don’t even think. I just pretend to be someone else without  even noticing it. How can I make them like me? That is the main question I used to ask  myself. The question that was causing my duplicity and sometimes still is.  

The last time I was asking myself this question, I was on a plane. It was August 27th  and I was flying to Boston. It was the start of my year at Hebron Academy. I was alone on a  plane flying to another continent where I didn’t know a soul. It was like that question was  stuck in my head and it wouldn’t leave until there was something or someone to just make it  disappear. Just like that word on the top of your tongue that you just can’t remember, that one  embarrassing moment that you can’t get outside of your head. As we were landing the  question started to get even more annoying. At this point it was getting crazy, jumping around  my head not letting me think. When I first started talking to everyone at the airport I was 

smiling, shaking hands and introducing myself. But as I started to get to know everyone, the  question was taking over. I agreed to everything anyone said and never said what I thought. “I  love rock music,” somebody said. “Me too!” I agreed even though I have never listened to a  single rock song and rock was my absolute worst genre. I started to question whether I was  doing the right thing by listening to the question because nobody really seemed to care that I loved rock music. They all just smiled. I thought maybe they would do the same if I told them  I actually like classical music and pop. Maybe they would even ask questions and be  interested in it. But what if they just thought I was weird for liking it. I didn’t want to take the  risk of them not liking me, so I just stuck with being a rock music lover. The rest of the night  at the airport I continued listening to the question and, in addition to being the rock music  lover, I also became a Formula 1 fan, a poetry lover and my favorite color became brown.  That one really hurt. 

Later that night we were in the bus driving to the school. It was late at night and the  drive was long. A lot of people were sleeping, but I was wide awake thinking about the  question. I was sitting in the front part of the bus by myself looking outside at the night sky.  My attention was caught by one of my favorite constellations, Cassiopeia. As I was looking at  it I remembered how good it felt to think about something I truly love, which for me is  astronomy. I got lost in my thoughts the second I looked up at the night sky and the thought  of all of those things I said I liked and people I pretended to be that day made the question  disappear just a little from my head. I realized I made some really good friends that day but if  that friendship is based on a lie, then it doesn’t really mean much. However, even that  realization didn’t make the question completely disappear from my head. 

The question was there until one thought that came to my head. I thought of a  chameleon. A chameleon changes its colors depending on its surroundings. That’s what I did  that day. I changed my colors. I changed who I am so people wouldn’t think badly of me just 

like a chameleon changes colors so it wouldn’t be eaten. The thought of that made me feel  bad, like all the friends I made that day weren’t really my friends. But then I realized that  even when a chameleon changes its color and you can’t see it, it is still there and it is still a  chameleon. So even though I sometimes change who I am, even though I act differently in  front of different people, I am still a human. A human that makes mistakes. And when I feel  safe enough around those people, I will change my color back to the original one. I don’t  think the question will ever completely disappear and that is okay. Humans are social creatures  and being a part of a group is in human nature, so sometimes we simply do what seems the  best in that moment even though we might regret it later. It is just important to remember that  sometimes it’s okay to be a chameleon but it is never okay to lose your real color.

Maine Day Class Trips

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September 20th was Hebron’s Maine Day, where the various grades went on field trips (or stayed on campus) to learn about different aspects of the surrounding Maine community. We asked a student from each grade to write about their Maine Day experience. The pieces they returned range from brief to long and while some are very literal, others are full of hyperboles that should not be taken too seriously. Thank you to all the local organizations that hosted us! 

Perrin Gill ‘28 on the freshman class

Maine Day was a thrilling opportunity for students to come together and make a positive impact through community service across the state. As 9th graders at Hebron Academy, we stayed on campus, which might not seem exciting at first, but it turned out to be an adventure, as we explored hidden spots that many students had never seen before.

The day began in the science lecture hall, where Dr. Swenton presented the schedule and laid out our plans. My group’s tasks included cleaning the Atwood closet, organizing the Lepage closet, and cutting down trees around the sauna. Though it was hard work, Maine Day offered an amazing chance to connect with nature, bond with my classmates, and gain a deeper appreciation for the beauty of our surroundings. It was more than just a day of service; it was a day of discovery and teamwork, right in our backyard.

Addie Hancock ‘27 on the sophomore class

For the sophomore year trip, we went to Nezinscots. Nezincots is a local farm in Turner with various animals, gardens, and a cafe/bakery. Their store includes various locally sourced crafts and goods, plus an upstairs seating area with cats. It originally was a dairy farm, but over the last three generations, it has expanded to include many other forms of agriculture. The staff there were incredibly welcoming and eager to teach us about their operation, and overall it was a great experience. 

When we arrived, they organized us into groups to take on different tasks around the farm. The first group went over to the animals, helping to feed and care for them. The second group headed to the farm and did general maintenance to prepare for the winter. After that, they harvested some food for the lunch that Nezinscots was preparing for us. The third group went into the bakery to make pizzas and bake a cake for when all of our respective tasks were done. As the groups finished up, we ended by picking flowers and eating a delicious meal. Altogether, this trip was a great hands-on experience that taught us about agriculture and ways of living sustainably and was an incredibly fun way to integrate into the local community.

Cale Proctor ‘26 on the junior class

For a class trip the junior class went to Ricker Hill, which is an apple orchard in Turner Maine. While we were there, we did a multitude of things: we played with animals, we went shopping, we picked apples, and had a great time. While picking apples my friends thought it would be a great idea to start throwing apples at each other, so we walked out of that orchard with more bruises than we walked in with. 

Kate Dilworth ‘25 on the senior class

While everyone else sipped apple cider and pet goats on Maine Day, the Senior class got recruited by a cult in the deep wilderness of Farmington, Maine. To start the day we were introduced to a man fully dripped out in cargo shorts, tucked in flannel button-up, along with a pair of rain boots with no socks on. I know he wasn’t wearing socks because he would take his shoes off multiple times throughout the day to reconnect with nature. Next after a 5-minute walk to the compound itself, we circle up next to a tree with a swing. Now, what Rain Boots man does with this swing is unbelievable. He winds up and flies around the circle, rain boots still on. After introductions to the staff and the oak trees, we are sorted into groups to do the weirdest manual labor. I sat on the floor of a wooden cabin crushing acorns to get the meat out. That’s right acorn meat. Didn’t know that existed until I was sitting on the floor next to a man who was on a deodorant strike and his best friend was an ant who was not there to eat the food in the kitchen. News flash, the ants are there to eat the food in your kitchen. After crushing acorns for thirty minutes we made acorn pancakes which taste about the same as cardboard with maple syrup and by what I mean disgusting. Then we chopped some vegetables which were alright and had a lunch break. I know that rain boot-wearing David Kuresh hated to see all those Dorito bags pulled out of the abyss.  Then came my favorite part. Tree hugging.

Contrary to popular belief tree huggers are not an old wives tale like the bigfoot or the yeti. No, they are real and they wear Blundstone and thrifted fisherman’s sweaters. As we walked in the woods we met the beech trees or the “beech people” and then we had to choose one to cut down. But do not worry guys! This tree’s life is not ending because it will live on in someone’s new hobbit home. I’m not sure what it was but I was just trying not to get brainwashed. When I tell you that these two grown men were crying about cutting down this tree. Tears physically fall down this man’s cheek to cut down a tree. Yes, I understand the consequences that deforestation has on the environment and animal habitats, however when I tell you I saw maybe a million other beach trees in the general area. I don’t think that this tree will be necessarily missed. 

To Believe in Fairies

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By Louisa Strong ’26

We were crouched in the grass, kept neatly trimmed by her mother, rotting twigs and strange flowers littering our feet. Lilies, ferns, and unruly shrubs threatened the border of this upkept backyard, in constant rebellion to my aunt’s pruning. Our laughter, reaching to the blue above, tangled with that of the gulls on their way to the nearby sea. With the sun on our backs and the afternoon ahead of us, Audrey and I prepared to build. It’s been a while, but I still know the ritual well. The perfect fairy house is constructed by two essentials: the right materials and the right mindset, the right mindset being believing in the existence of fairies. I never struggled with the first part, but since I had stopped believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny at five, at eight, fairies didn’t seem very realistic to me either. But if Audrey believed in them, that was enough to at least make me play along.

My cousin and I would run too fast and too far down the road in search of the ideal fairy house materials. So determined in our adventure, we hardly noticed the pavement callusing our feet or the inevitable thorns tearing at our legs while we searched for the most fantastical ornaments nature could provide. Audrey and I spent many days like this and by the end of these summers, I wore every scratch and bruise as a trophy of the summer now gone. But right now it was still summer and there was still a fairy house waiting to be made. 

As we began to construct, the disproportions of the house started worrying me. If Audrey saw how absurd it was that the chairs were twice as big as their acorn table, would she then see the absurdity of the whole bit? I was sure that if Audrey realized that fairies couldn’t exist, our quiet sanctuary of flowers and forest would be gone. After a minute, I asked her if she was sure that all of the makeshift furniture would work for the fairies, and she assured me that because they were magical, all of the furniture would be just fine. Audrey and I continued on until we could barely see our creation by the dimming skylight. She told me that the fairies were going to love their new home and that we’d better get inside so they could move in in peace. 

Her imagination far outstretched my own; while I wished that there was magic in the world, Audrey already believed it was there. Building fairy houses on those hot summer days, salty breeze knotting our hair and strawberry lemonade on our tongues, I never once saw a fairy but I shared in Audrey’s belief of magic. Because there, in those moments, I could feel it. I held on tight to Audrey’s imagination, hoping that if I pretended enough, we would stay children forever. 

Summers passed quickly and soon Audrey and I were eleven and twelve. The summer’s dull fog clung to our clothes and gathered on our skin. Rain clouds lingered in the corners of the sky. Having exhausted water balloons and spilling secrets, we sat on her front steps throwing pebbles on to her driveway. With each throw, the contrast from this summer to the ones still sharp in my memory seemed to grow. The past summers spent unafraid and imperfect had been weighing on me, taunting me with the fact that I could not go back. It was then that Audrey suggested we build a fairy house. All of my worrying had been for nothing; summer was still here and Audrey still saw the magic in it. 

We set out in our familiar routine, looking for the best flowers and most creative decor for the fairies. It was just like it had always been or at least I tried to make myself think that. In truth, it didn’t feel like magic. It felt like forcing a sequel to something that could have wrapped up beautifully a long time ago. This feeling that fairy houses seemed so ingenuine now forced me into a confession. 

“You know I never believed in fairies, right?” I asked her. “I just pretended for your sake”. For a moment I didn’t know what she was thinking. Our sweet summer seemed to rot in front of my eyes. Then she laughed.

“That’s funny,” she said, “because I was always pretending for your sake”. With that, we left our flowers and twigs scattered on the tar and returned home.

And, somehow, it was still summer.

“Keeping Quiet”

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By Vaughn Ross ’27

Sit down and take a moment of your time to listen to something other than the bustle of the town. 

One could call this a rhyme, others may call these words of wisdom, others may just call this a waste of time. 

But before you run away I have more to say that may stay with you until the end of today. 

Ones that understand the way of life, may also understand the constant hurrying of life, which almost appears to be catching a dropping knife, but how come when others come together they still seem to be under the weather

Can the man with the plan please stand to tell me the story of this boy who ran just to escape the drama of his land. Language changes like a strain of a virus to adapt to the constant change of life. I keep running out of time, like people with power who seek to devour. 

People spew the hate to which brings up the pace I don’t know if you could last, but of course you can laugh when left to decide between do or die I think that’s just a lie, but keep sputtering and muttering we’ll see what it’ll be, let’s see to the tea like bloody backs in the back, is it just me or have we forgotten just that. But keep spreading the scuttlebug like disease under your rug. 

Though now there are cheats that try to play you at your game, all they care about is the money found at the end. Here comes the pay that’s what they all say, will they ever change at all, I’m not one to say. 

One last thing before you leave to join the bustle of the town once again, why oh why, do people continue to lie about things that seem to fly like leaves with the wind. Am I the one who is speaking on a whim or was this mind always here along with the constant plea to subside to the side to observe from a distance as the sphere begins to erupt into flames, but this does seem lame. Will you stop and burn out or will you continue to go, until you grow old with an afterglow that indeed will blow this sky away.

Now you can stand up and hurry outta town with a frown that seems 

to bring everyone down, just turn it around to hear this sound. Farewell to this town. 

About Ms. Blakelock!

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By Louisa Strong ’26

This school year, Hebron is welcoming many new students and teachers, including Ms. Blakelock, teacher of printmaking, sculpture, and drawing, all classes either new to Hebron or revived this year. This is her eighth official year teaching; previously to Hebron, she taught at Korea International School on Jeju Island and the Rectory School in Pomfret, Connecticut. Ms. Blakelock has had a love for art as far back as she can remember, which led her to major in art history and studio art at Hobart and William Smith Colleges. Her favorite project was a silk screening she did on a tapestry because of the way the colors were absorbed into the fabric, which made it look very dimensional. With her major, she originally intended to work in art museums and auction houses, which she did for a little while. Ms. Blakelock interned in the American paintings department in Christie’s in New York, which is a fine art, luxury, and antiques auction house. However, working at a summer camp made Ms. Blakelock realized that teaching was much more fun than working at auction houses and museums. Ms. Blakelock says, “I think one of the things that I love about teaching is that I’m often inspired by my students, what they’re making, and their ideas and I can bring that back into my own work. I feel like it feeds the whole artistic, creative cycle.”

Trip To Africa

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By Ronan Newell ’26

This summer, during the first two weeks of August, I spent my time volunteering at an animal sanctuary and reservation outside of Windhoek, Namibia. For background context: Namibia, a vast country that was once a part of South Africa, gained its independence in March, 1990. The country is situated to the northwest of South Africa, with a wide variety of landscapes and biomes that differ in both climate and animal life. In the west of the country, there is a large desert that meets directly with the ocean, which is known as the Skeleton Coast, named after the many famous shipwrecks that fill the coast with “ghost ships”. The rest of the country, roughly the size of Texas, is a flat, dry savannah biome teeming with wildlife. In the north, Namibia is home to one of Africa’s largest national parks, Etosha National Park. Over the last 12 months, Etosha is experiencing its worst drought in the past 100 years. Plants have stopped growing, watering holes have dried up, and animals are dying in droves. The purpose of my trip was to help rehabilitate animals that were not deemed able to live in the wild with the intention to release them from captivity eventually. 

To do this I spent a week sleeping in a tent in the Namibian savannah, on a project called Na’ankuse Wildlife Reservation and Animal Sanctuary. Once I was there, I did various activities alongside roughly 40 other volunteers. Some were there to complete PhDs, others to conduct research, and some were simply seeking to take a break from day-to-day life. The activities that I did include working alongside the anti-poaching unit, feeding and rehabilitating small animals as well as large carnivores, building a trap to catch an injured cheetah, observing elephants who have been injured, working and teaching at a non-profit school, and many other opportunities that presented themselves day-to-day. Overall, my biggest takeaway from my trip was just how different life truly is on other sides of the world. From the people to the animals, to the way of life and people’s values, truly nothing was the same as the life I grew up living, and I am grateful for the opportunity to have experienced something so out of the ordinary.