2004 Convocation Student Address
Given on September 19, 2004

by Jett Fein '05
President of the Class of 2005

Thank you for that Mr. Widmer. And thank you to this Senior Class of 2005 for giving me the opportunity to address you this evening. In light of the tragic event that has shocked our community, I have altered my talk briefly.

One rainy, dreary Friday night during my sophomore year, my buddies and I on Scaife two decided we wanted to try something different. We did not want to go to the Greer, or to a movie, or to Friendly's-that was too typical. All we wanted to do was have fun in the dorm, so we decided we would look back to our childhoods for some inspiration. I remember fondly as a child rampaging through my house, looking for all the materials I could find-then bringing them to my living room, where I would begin to meticulously assemble a structure what I thought was paramount to the Taj Mahal. Only- my ramshackle Taj Mahal was not made up of exotic black and white marble, or Red Indian sandstone. Rather, mine was always crafted using the finest terrycloth towels, wool blankets, and linen sheets. When I was young, I loved to build exotic forts in my living room. For me, there was a distinct comfort in that. Twelve years later, we resurrected that nostalgic idea in Scaife two's common room.

It began with a careful-and stealthy collection of all we needed. We then re-organized the furniture in a way that would allow us to have a complex maze of halls and rooms. We used dozens of floor lamps-not for light, but to hang our ceiling from. We even named each room; our entrance was appropriately called Genesis-our exit was called, no surprise, Exodus. Jesse, at the time, had a particular obsession with his Judeo-Christian tradition class. Once we had our palace constructed, we sat inside our fort-wondering- what next.

At the time, we built the fort just for the heck of building a fort. I'm sure you can relate to this type of childhood imagination. In the end, we simply tore down the structure we had worked so passionately to build. All the sheets were eventually returned to their respective rooms, the lamps followed, and the furniture was put back to its original position. The next day, we just sat in Scaife two's common room-not our Scaife palace.

But our Scaife fort was built on sound Deerfield principles and values. I remember feeling a distinct sense of safety in our fort, because my friends were also there. That night, I also felt an enormous sense of trust. We used our imaginations to create our own small world, a step away from the world of Deerfield, and two steps away from the larger, global world. Friendship was alive in Scaife that night, because together, we took risks and created opportunities unusual to our everyday lives.

I tell you this story for a couple of reasons. One, I think it is bizarre. Secondly, it shows that Deerfield's values of community and friendship are not necessarily found by actively searching for them. Instead, these fundamental values show up on their own, when we do things for fun-when we take risks and opportunities-like building the fort.

Remember how I told you about when I thought, "What next?" The actual building of the fort was just pure, unadulterated fun. What had happened though-inadvertently and possibly accidentally-was building bonds because of the shared values of trust, friendship and involvement.

Each of our personal experiences will advise and shape our future. Believe it or not, whether we say hello or ignore the person walking up on the sidewalk next to us will somehow shape our future. The way we involve ourselves in the opportunities available to us-or the way we participate in our own future may determine how we find satisfaction in our lives.

Let me share a couple of stories with you that may give some insight into what I mean. Both the stories I will tell are international stories-they represent the larger world, far from the safety of our Scaife fort, and far from the values Deerfield upholds.

This summer I was in the Czech Republic studying with students my age from all over Eastern and Central Europe. When it came time for our final project-mine dealt with the AIDS crisis among Indians-I worked in a group with one other American and three Czechs. We decided to split up our individual work sections, and then get together the night before the due date to condense our paper. In hindsight, bad idea, but it was an easy way out. We got together on a Sunday night in a small, bland internet café. When we presented each other our respective pieces, two of the boys noticeably hesitated, and then handed in what seemed to be complete pieces. In fact, the boys did hand in complete pieces. Front to back pages complete with statistics, quotes and charts. Only the work was plagiarized. It was completely and utterly copied from the internet, cut and pasted in the most embarrassing sense of the term. I paused for a few moments-and then as Forster says memorably in Howard's End, I let "the flood gates open." After my firestorm was over-after I was out of breath condemning and explaining-the boys offered me four words of wisdom. "That's what everybody does." "That's what everybody does." Huh. I was certain not everyone does that in the Czech Republic. But I knew if we handed that paper in, we would certainly fail our course. Somehow, the project director found out about the situation, so hoping to clarify our terms, I spoke with her about the project. After an unfruitful discussion about the fact that, indeed, everyone copies from the internet in this project, I left separated from the world I looked up to. The world of Deerfield.

So, what did I do about this situation? Not enough. I separated my work from the group, and we handed our group project in individually. As each day goes by, and I am further isolated from the Czech Republic, I feel guiltier and more irresponsible. Not because ultimately my friends handed in forged work, but because Deerfield has instilled in me a sense of building a future full of accountability and honor.

In the safety of my Scaife fort, I felt trusted and understood the value of friendship. In the world of Deerfield, I knew about honesty. In the Czech Republic, the larger world, my values were being tested.

I knew what was right. I knew the consequences of those plagiaristic actions, well, at least from Deerfield's standards. I felt more uncomfortable than I have ever felt, because they viewed this behavior as the "normal." I viewed this behavior as "abnormal." Deerfield taught me that. But I was afraid to confront a group of people with an established status quo and tell them the benefits of changing what they viewed as normal. Maybe it was simply a cultural difference. But let me tell you, I didn't go to the Czech Republic to cut and paste. I am glad to have a strong sense of my values, Deerfield's values, our values. Here at Deerfield, we work hard and expect the best from each other-that's why we are all sitting here.

You see, Deerfield sets up standards. In the Czech Republic, that became starkly clear to me, because I was put in opposition to those values. So, when we go out into the world, whether it is another school or an obscure country, we are sometimes baffled by what we see. But let me be frank. For all the guilt I feel about that situation, I have an enormous, larger sense of pride. I belong to Deerfield-and as I sat in that internet café, I recognized the meaning of what it is that Deerfield does, and how it has shaped my life. It has let me build a fort, it has let me take risks and given me precious opportunities. I am proud to live in a community where we set our own standards, but more importantly, a place where we ask everyone to live up to these expectations.

It is normal in this community for boys to wear a coat and tie to our classes. It is normal here to visit your teachers when you need extra help. I guarantee you that if the people of the world could look closely at Deerfield from space, they would jump back in astonishment and befuddlement. Most people would think that we were essentially different-or not normal. But to me, Deerfield seems pretty normal. And I am grateful for that.

For everybody in this room, somebody else here looks up to you. Whether this occasion marks the first week in your Deerfield career or the hundredth week of your career, somebody respects you in this room. The reason someone looks up to you is because of the way you have strived for purpose-the actions of you life that have not humiliated somebody, but those that have shown responsibility in shaping your own future, and potentially the future of this school. Through my visit to the Czech Republic, I was distanced from the Scaife fortress-those values of trust, friendship and safety seemed gone.

I want to share another memorable experience with you that also takes place abroad.

When I was in Cape Town, South Africa last September, the host family I stayed with took Jaewon and me out for a night on the town. Around 10 pm, the Sansons packed us in their silver Range Rover with some other friends and drove us to central Cape Town, where we sat for some coffee. Once we were finished, Jaewon, a couple of friends, and I including our host's daughter took a stroll down the main avenue, peppered with restaurants, clubs, cafés and music halls. At one point during our stroll, we passed by a small African child who had his little hands cupped, begging for South African rands. As soon as he disappeared from my memory, we were heading back up his way. This time, he had tried desperately, as much as a 6 year old can do, to hide himself from our view. His back was turned, he was straddling the sidewalk with one foot in the wet street, and he had a dark hood over his head. As we approached, he started begging again. This time, I noticed a faster paced plea, more anxiety in his breath. Once he realized we had nothing to give him, he began yelling in a sharp accent. The boy was now violently grabbing at our clothing. This chaos led two large men to run across the street. Unfortunately for our group, the men did not come to help us. Instead, they shoved a few of my friends up against a wall along the sidewalk, and in violent voice demanded that we hand over any cell phones or cash we had.

As I stood on that African sidewalk, I knew that my values had been tested once again. This was the culmination of it all for me. I saw indifference toward humanity and understood the simple importance of the fort's values of friendship, trust and safety. Even Deerfield's own values of honesty and respect were tried and tested.

I feel privileged to live in a place that has taught me to work hard and expect the best from myself and my peers. I feel privileged to work with people who value their future. In South Africa, I took my best self out into the world to see what I could dig up. Deerfield prepared me well for my experience by instilling in me a sense of purpose, confidence and hope. Halfway around the world, I came to terms with that insoluble question of, "what's next."

What's next for Deerfield? Will we take the standards and expectations Deerfield has provided us with, and go forth and be worthy of them? We are already aware of who we are. This is us. And that becomes clearer and clearer every day. Whether it takes an unusual experience like the fort in Scaife, or a trip halfway around the world to realize the importance of Deerfield's values, we do have a crystal clear sense of who we are. We are even aware of what we stand for. I negotiated that awareness in the Czech Republic and South Africa, and from those isolated times, I learned that we are indeed different from the rest of the world. We have the chance to be exceptional, outstanding, extraordinary and brilliant. But what's next for Deerfield? Maybe a breakthrough scientist, an Oscar winning director, a President, diplomat or gold medallist athlete. Or possibly our future doesn't lie in potential Spielberg's or Phelps's, but instead, the way we decide to live our lives with integrity, accountability and virtuosity. The way we build a future full of pride and heritage.

Maybe Deerfield is an end in itself. We are living right here, right now. This is an exceptional place. How can we leave it better than we found it? I would say- by enjoying each moment when we build up the values that Deerfield stands for. That is what I leave you with today. So in every action you take, think about your school and your self. Think of your friends-those who know you well and those who don't. Think of the devoted, passionate teachers that fill your lives with meaning. But as you strive to be your best here, I am sure that you will come to terms with the Deerfield you are proud to be a part of. I encourage each of us, starting with me, to make sure that this community we love flourishes. I encourage each of us to go forth, and have our values tested in the world.

The last week of summer, as I was driving with my brother Kale, he turned to me and said out of the blue, "You know Jett, Deerfield's like Snapple. It's the best stuff on Earth." Like any cynical older brother would do, I looked at him and gave him a big "What." But you know, he's right. Deerfield is unlike any other place, because without one of us, a piece of our values would go missing. I could not ask for a better honor than for someone to ask me where I go to school. I look up at that person with pride, and say, "Deerfield Academy." The Senior Class of 2005 and the returning students are all so thrilled that the new students in this room have embarked on this journey with us. Welcome to Deerfield.

Thank you.