My commute to school has never felt ordinary. I live in Pasadena, which is, on average, 30 minutes to the Upper School and even longer to the Middle School campus. I also didn’t drive junior year like most of my classmates—partly because I was too young to get my permit, but mostly because it just never crossed my mind. When I got my license on June 7, 2024, I drove straight to Ted Slavin Field for the senior class’ graduation. In a week, I’ll be making that same drive with the same intention of attending graduation.
In ninth grade, I was thrilled to take the bus. It was the luxury of a private chauffeur (thanks, Mr. Sanchez). I woke up bright and early at 6 a.m. on my first day, and watched Netflix on the way to Holmby Hills. The next day, I looked outside, trading screen time for scenery, and I observed silently to music in my AirPods.
Somewhere in between Glendale and Burbank, there stands a large glass office building. In ninth grade, it was several stakes planted into the ground at calculated positions on the construction site. Today, it stands fully realized with empty floors to be leased to the newest startup.. When I passed by it earlier this year in my car and in traffic, I thought of the natural ways our surroundings grow up with us. I never explicitly registered this building during its erection, but the final product certainly adds a bold presence in the media-saturated neighborhood of Burbank.
Growth is subtle, marked not by one grand transformation but by small shifts. Whether it’s a rearranged beam or a slightly changed hairstyle, change feels unnoticed in the moment to others, and so forcing it is against nature. The bus rides, car drives, and shifting metropolis are reminders that progress is natural and time-consuming.
Distance, though, has always been a trickier concept for me. I measure a mile by the distance of my childhood commute to school—from my home on Hallow Tree Ridge Road in Darien, CT, to Hindley School. I also measure the distance of my runs by steps. Distance for me is simplified by looking at other indicators. For example, the relationships I have forged are key ways I use to recalculate distance. From my extended family in Asia to my friends who live on the other side of town, I feel just as connected as my cousins in China or my friends who live together in Studio City. All it takes is just a shift of perspective.
Perhaps I do live 16 Hallow Tree Ridge Road commutes away from school and run thousands of steps instead of three miles; however, that’s just a change of perspective. Whether it is emotional closeness or physical proximity, I find clarity in redefining the spaces I move through daily.
And who knows? Maybe one day, my crazy perspectives will land me a floor in that tall glass office building.
