Puzzle Pieces

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. 

Duplicity 

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.

“Keeping Quiet”

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. 

Trip To Africa

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. 

When the Sun Shone Grey

By Quinn Doyle ’26

Two eyes opened like flowers to behold the newborn daylight. Starved, they were, of their food already. In a vigorous leap without legs, the body jumped, and the bright sun illuminated the trees and held the calm birdsong in its warm breast. The body stretched in the kind rays, but the mouth was frozen stiff, no longer able to chant its daily hymn to the natural beauty beyond the window. The stickers on the chiffarobe prompted a twitch of a grin in the mouth, with their weirdness and history captivating the head. As the legs shifted the body out of bed, the little baby blue blanket, the one that the child had nestled into since they were a babe, returned the favor that day, with a tight wrap around the shoulders almost in consolation. 

Sliding onto the little smooth pale feet came slippers lined in soft plush that banished the pain of stubbed toes in times of need. The walls gave wide berth to the child as they practiced their rituals, and seemed to make faces of pity in the creases of the rough plaster. Friendly beings of the wood, stalled in their movement, laid pasted to the walls, playmates for the head in its peaceful deep dreaming. On a regular day, the great many smiles held welcome and the attached limbs almost danced in the light filtering through the tree branches outside, but on that morn, there was an anxiety in the stripes of their faces that brushed a blackness over the stickered murals. 

The buff colored carpet gave way to crisply cool finished wood that came in the marvelous orange-brown which dominated the house’s floors, and the child beheld the hypnotic patterns of the grains for a while, melting into the hot hue of the boards. The small unused switch next to those for the lights flickered on and off with its blood red glare as it always did, but this time more menacingly. 

The swirls and shapes in the bright foam mats on the floor across the hall called attention to the toys beyond, trucks and trains and Legos and Lincoln logs. As the child took a step forward, the hall began to grow into a passage of dark liminality. The welcoming shapes of the playsets sat on a table that came into view, the child’s prized police station, garbage hauler, and gold mine, all beckoning with their promises of imaginative enjoyment. But the creek of the soft slap of flesh on planks disturbed the scene. 

“Quin. Come here.” A lecture proceeded that confirmed their sense of dread which had built over the months. The death of faithful Bode, chieftain among beasts in the house. Gentle, smooth haired sun-colored Bode. The news came like a phantasmal force to the heart, and the spectral militant then grappled the brain. It had been just a year prior that the child had experienced their first loss, Stanley the goldfish. That day at school, they had to leave class to cry. That night the child pondered and finally allowed themself to understand that while their inanimate companions would never pass, save for by future mistreatment, the days of a living being are ever numbered. 

Girls’ Lacrosse Season

By: Emma Frumiento ’25

Hebron Academy girls lacrosse had an exciting season this year! The girls varsity lacrosse team gained many new members, who had formerly participated in club lacrosse outside of school, which greatly impacted the teams success.  Additionally two new coaches, specializing in lacrosse and functional strength training, were hired to lead the girls.  With new talent and experienced coaches, the Hebron Girls Varsity Lacrosse team was well equipped for a successful season.

After a few weeks of practice, team captains were nominated and voted on.  Coaches and players appointed three junior class members, Annie F. ‘25, Tessa S. ‘25, and Emma F. ‘25 to lead the team this past season. The teams first game was against rival school Kents Hill.  The girls wanted to start their season with a win, and, appropriately, they also wanted to crush their rival school.  As goals were scored, the girls realized their season’s potential.  Having completed only a few practices, the Hebron team came out with the win.  Excited, the girls rang the victory bell in front of many parents and fans.More games were played, and the girls sat at 3-0 half way through their season. The next game would break their streak and bring a tough loss to the team’s record, but it only seemed to strengthen the team when they came back to win the next game they played.   

With the playoff season coming, the girls were seeded first, meaning they would play the four seed, Hyde School in the MAISAD semi-finals.  The girls went into the game confident in their ability and it showed on the scoreboard as they won at home 12-2.  A few practices later, the team played in the finals, but they were missing a few players.  Two Midfielders would not be playing; Sammy J. ‘26 was out with a concussion and Emma F. ‘25 would be away.  Additionally Athina N. ‘28 who is a strong defender was also out with a concussion.  Being down three players, the girls still fought hard and gave it their all; however, they came up just short and lost 4-7 to Kents Hill.  Despite the loss in the finals, the girls lacrosse team had the best record they have had in years.  The girls had fun, brought the energy, and won games, leading them to a very successful season and they hope to bring home the championship next year

Scarred For Life

By: Jeremy Lavoie ’26

-Photo Credit: Literary Hub

When Jeremy Lavoie woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a notepad. He slowly tries to recollect his thoughts from the night before; it was a hot summer night, and he was at the movies with his best friends. He came back exhausted, and before he could do anything, he fell asleep on his bed, which he had made earlier that morning. He was trying to figure out what had happened to him, but still no answers. Jeremy still had thoughts but was physically a dull black-and-white notepad. He still had all his senses but couldn’t move, speak, or do anything. Jeremy could now only listen and see, nothing else. He wanted to cry, scream, and run, but he couldn’t, as he was simply a notepad. His phone was still on the bed; his clock was still on his nightstand and it announced 2:05 P.M. He could hear his mom coming to wake him up; she hated when he would sleep in during summertime. The footsteps were nearing the door; he could feel the vibration; she knocked, but there was no answer from Jeremy, as he could not communicate in any shape or form. His mom twisted the door knob and walked in and Julia was left in shock as she did not see Jeremy anywhere, but weirdly his bed was made. Julia was worried as she knew how tired he was last night and expected him to be in bed either on his phone, scrolling endlessly on social media, or sleeping. The weird thing, she thought, was that his phone was still there, and he wasn’t anywhere else in the house. His bed looked untouched from the previous day. 

Julia also waited for her son to return home to ensure he safely made it back. She immediately called for Robert, her husband. He quickly scuttled up the stairs and examined the scene; just like his wife, he was shocked as this was very unusual for Jeremy. His parents immediately contacted all of his friends but with no luck. None of them knew where he was. The parents were intrigued by a particular detail: the notepad on his bed. They had never seen it before but assumed it was just a school supply he had dug up from his bag. The weird thing was that it was summer, so why would he be digging that up? His parents knew he loved writing, so they didn’t think about it anymore. They picked him up and flipped through his core, which was all blank and meaningless. Jeremy felt the touch of his parents and wanted to hug them, but he knew it was impossible. Was this all a bad dream, he thought to himself. Before making a decision, the parents waited till the end of the day to contact the police. Unfortunately, their son didn’t turn up; he was still lying on the bed waiting for something to happen, but what was he desperately waiting for, to return to human form? Deep down, he knew he would be stuck like this till the end of his life. His parents immediately contacted the police and filed for a missing child report, hoping to get the answers they were waiting for.

Days passed, and there was still no sign of Jeremy anywhere. A search team had been deployed, hoping to find him, but nothing came up. As for poor Jeremy, or at least what was left of him, he was still in bed waiting for something to happen. His thoughts were slowly killing him, but there was no escape. He kept thinking 24 hours a day, seven days a week. He couldn’t sleep because only his thoughts were entrapped into a physical notepad. His parents were still trying to avoid the truth that their son was gone and that they couldn’t find him. Each day that passed, the more anxiety and sadness would be filling up Jeremy, Robert, and Julia. 

Months had now passed, and the worst had to be assumed from the parent’s perspective. Their son was dead, and there was no evidence as to how this had happened. As for Jeremy, he became more thoughtless every day that would go by. He would just be there, lying on his dusty bed, repeatedly looking at the same white ceiling, without thinking anything anymore, as there was nothing to feel or think. 

One night, Jeremy recognized his mom’s footsteps, and she entered the room. She was there looking at the bed, looking at him. She had no facial expression; she was emotionless. Julia could rarely get a good night’s sleep anymore; she couldn’t cry anymore as she had physically deserted all her tears from her body. She sat at his desk where he used to do homework every night and looked at Jeremy. He was there in a notepad form; she didn’t know this, but he knew. He hoped she would pick him up and sing him a lullaby like when he was a little boy, but she did something different. She picked him up, gently placed him on the desk and did what her son loved the most, she wrote. She wrote down everything she felt or thought about him. Every time the pencil scratched a page, it would be a massive pain to Jeremy. It was like getting cut by a knife. Jeremy suffered through her writing the whole night, and soon, there were no more blank pages. He felt deeply scarred and hurt, something that he hadn’t physically felt in a long time.  All her feelings were written on her son. Julia knew she needed to start moving on, as Robert had already begun that process. As a final goodbye, she took all of her feelings and thoughts about her son’s disappearance and brought them to the basement, where she took a last look at the notepad and burned it. Jeremy, slowly turning to ash, wondered how all this had happened to him and his family. Soon, nothing would be left of him; he felt relieved, and so did his mom. He knew this would be a new beginning for his mom as she had finally defeated the denial stage of grievance, and now he would be free from his thoughts. 

Hello From The Blog Editors!

Featured

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!