And now, let me conclude with my charge to the class of 2003: Members of the class of 2003, you have worked hard, learned much and contributed greatly to the life of the school and the education of your peers. The hard work you have performed has opened the doors of opportunity for you. Your friends, families and faculty wish you good fortune and Godspeed on your exciting journey. High opportunity carries great responsibility, and thus as you step forth from this Academy to make your way through life, I give you three charges that reflect the spirit of this school and the meaning of the lessons you learned here. First, I charge you to use your generous hearts and talents to preserve the freedom and enhance the well-being of those less educated and less fortunate than you. Share the good fortune of your lessons at Phillips Exeter so that all of us on this small, fragile planet can live in peace. Second, value truth. Your parents and your faculty have taught you to respect it. Pursue it in scholarship and in your work in the years to come. Demand it of yourself and others. In our country and in our world the truth needs your protection. Finally, I charge you to remember that this group of individuals will never be assembled again on this earth. The memories of what you have learned together as a class are your unique trust and your unique debt to each other. Preserve those memories and revisit them often. They represent wisdom for today and many tomorrows. Rejoice in the love and support of your families, friends, and faculty. Protect each other and keep each other safe, so that for many years to come you may rejoin this class and recall this important chapter in your life now ending. Walker Brumskine As he bids farewell to Exeter and to the close friends he has made here, Walker Brumskine, a four-year student from Alexandria, VA, finds new meaning in a childhood ritual.
It is 5 a.m. when my 12-year-old brother, Charles, wakes me for our annual "first snowfall's trail." It is a tradition that started three years ago when I was 4 and lost General Flagg, the leader of my G.I. Joe Fifth Squadron, somewhere in the snow near the manmade pond. And every year since then, Charles and I have gone on a manhunt at first snowfall. Charles opens the front door, and it is much colder than we expected. The ground is hidden beneath some 20 inches of snow. Charles' first step creates a thunderous crunch as he breaks the iced-over snow. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I follow him down the driveway, trying to step only in the footprints that he has made. "This is it. This is the year, right, Charles?" "This is it, Walker." As we reach the end of the driveway, the path to the manmade pond is now in sight: over the hill, toward the big city, through the woods and to the right of the eventual tall tree. The lights from the city and street poles shine on the surface of the snow, creating a glow that lights our path. This glow will have to suffice until 7 a.m. when the sun will rise. Crunch, crunch. We have found the base of the hill by the time the stars begin to fade. At about 7:30 a.m., Charles and I find ourselves standing next to the manmade pond, staring at a rising sun. "Wow, Charles, we did it." "Yes, we sure did," Charles says, as he picks up General Flagg. The same that had evaded us for two years, sat waiting on the only patch of grass visible under all the snow. "Think fast!" Charles says, as he throws me the action figure. "I'm exhausted. Let's go back, OK?" "OK," I say, as I turn and drop General Flagg back where we found him. "What the heck was that for?" "So that we have a reason to come back next year," I say, as we start walking back. · · · And now I am 17 and I am a senior, and the General has been out there for years. Charles has graduated from college and is a full-pledged adult-he owns a briefcase and wakes up early every morning to the sound of his alarm clock to knot his tie in a full Windsor and drive into D.C. for work. And right now I am here, at Exeter, stuck somewhere between the late night of Monday, February 17, and the early morning of Tuesday, February 18, and it is snowing heavily outside. This could be the most snow I have ever seen, and there is a rumor that school will be canceled tomorrow, but most of us know better. My alarm is set for 5:30, and whether we have school or not, I am going to wake up my friends-Baldi and Austin and Marvin and Deven-and we are all going to take something of great value, and we are going to hike out over those fields of snow, and through the Exeter woods, and we'll hike past these four years of tears, and cuts, and laughs, and smiles, these four years of late-night Monopoly and early-morning dorm wrestling, four years of Peabody Hall and narrow staircases, four years of love and hate and girls and teachers, and four years of openly wishing but secretly dreading the moment that is now so close to us-the moment when we'll walk and everyone will cheer and then, just as quickly as prep year came upon us, we will begin to look back over these last four years and think such things as, "I wish I had told those four boys how much I love them and how much they mean to me while they were still so close." But for now, the five of us will hike past all these things, and we'll pick the only visible patch of grass amidst all the snow, and lay down what we have brought. Graduation Prizes
The Yale Cup, awarded each year to the member of the senior class who best combines the highest standards of character and leadership with excellence in his studies and in athletics:
The Ruth and Paul Sadler '23 Cup, awarded each year to that member of the senior class who best combines the highest standards of character and leadership with excellence in her studies and in athletics:
The Perry Cup, given annually to a student who has shown outstanding qualities of leadership and school spirit:
The Williams Cup, given annually to a student who, having been in the Academy four years, has by personal qualities brought distinction to Phillips Exeter:
The Eskie Clark Award, given to a student in the graduating class who, through hard work and perseverance, has excelled in both athletics and scholarship:
The Thomas Cornell Award, decided by the senior class and given annually to those members in the graduating class who exemplify the Exeter Spirit typified by Thomas Hilary Cornell of the Class of 1911:
Cox Medals, awarded each year to those members of the graduating class who, having been two or more years in the Academy, have attained the highest scholastic rank:
Faculty Prize for Excellence, given to that member of the graduating class who, having been two or more years in the Academy, is recognized on the basis of scholarship as holding the first rank:
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