2015 Edmund Jones Essay

Schooled by the Borough

By Phoebe Richardson

STANFORD UNIVERSITY

I pedal furiously, sweat streaming down my back and soaking into my SRA basketball t-shirt. The Methodist Church’s bell tolls ten times — I’m almost late. I careen across the railroad tracks and swing onto Henderson Way, flying down the short steep hill at the swim club gate, and speed-walk past the “no running” signs on the pool deck. Victory! No one has yet jumped into the pool. At the coach’s dive-in whistle, I jam on my swim cap and slip into the calm water, suddenly submerged in cool silence. I practice alongside my teammates, and as the clock ticks to 12 o’clock, we all slither over the side of the pool and dry off. I hop back on my bicycle and ride across town — the town that nurtured me as an individual and has allowed others to nurture it in return. After eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, I walk to the library, returning my stack of mysteries and memoirs from the previous day and picking out several adventures for the following 24 hours.

I lounge at home the rest of the afternoon, reading intently and working on my summer math homework. A typical summer’s day. I groan at the thought of calculus on a leisurely afternoon, but secretly I often find pleasure in the patterns and exacting formulas. The academic work sets me thinking about my Swarthmore schools and experiences throughout the years, and of how they combined duty and pleasure. I remember SRS and the pleasant walks to elementary school when I was excited for language art lessons, tire swings with friends, and recounts of my weekends to beloved teachers. I consider SHMS and the beginning of my identification as a Panther, and more importantly, my deeper delving into learning and connections with not just one elementary school’s worth of people, but three. And finally, I think of Strath Haven High School and the way it has formed me into who I am today. I reflect on the orchestra rehearsals, Envirothon meetings, and softball practices all shared with role models and peers alike. I ponder the impactful history lessons and English debates, where I truly learned about human character and societal evolution. And I think of the meaningful conversations with my classmates, who taught me to appreciate the nuances in others’ characters and to communicate well with not only those that I naturally get along well with, but also with those who differ in opinion.

Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I would return to my Harvard Avenue home every day after school. Most days I would walk into town center: to pick up a gallon of milk, a can of porch paint, a stuffed tiger for a birthday present, or just to chat with a friend. Even without many stores, Swarthmore seemed to have it all. As I’ve grown up, I’ve realized that in comparison to New York, Philadelphia, and even Media, my hometown features only a small variety of options — one grocery store, just a couple restaurants. But here, all of my neighbors participate in borough planning meetings. I can go for a walk and greet by name most people I pass. And most of all, here I feel safe and appreciated.

Swarthmore has taught me community values by celebrating generosity, friendliness, and open-mindedness. I know to look out for my neighbors — they have always made sure I was okay when I tumbled over on my rollerblades or offered me a ride home when a storm suddenly arrived — and I know to check the collar on wandering dogs because I know the inveterate canine escape artists in each block of my running route, and I still remember how my friend across the street was so shaken the time her golden retriever ran into the path of an oncoming Prius. I confess that my friends and I used to trade the occasional snide barb or exaggerated yawn when we saw the Friday Swarthmorean’s account of the Borough Council meeting — but once a close family friend was elected, and I began to hear more about why fence set-backs and pension reapportionment and town beautification matter, I’ve realized how important it is to get involved in local politics. Growing up in a town small enough that everyone knows someone well on the Borough Council or the school committee makes for life-long voters in school board elections and people who will mark zoning meetings on their calendars for the rest of their days. Although Swarthmore might seem insular, I realize that it has granted me globally important lessons about locality and sustainability. On the radio, in the newspaper, and in school, we hear about crises of the housing market and overthrows of tyrannous dictators; historic droughts and enormous forest fires. These can seem too far away for me, and individual Swarthmore teenager, to influence. Or too overwhelmingly depressing for me to contemplate. But local examples of resilience — a father starting a coffee-roasting business when he was downsized out of his pharmaceutical job; a psychologist now making a living mostly through beekeeping — have made me care about more widespread issues, and suggested ways that small-scale efforts can be effective. They have made me care and shown me how I want to learn to matter more in the wider scheme of the world. The Co-op, HOM, Compendium and many other area businesses embrace local artisans and farmers, and make an effort to support sustainable farms and businesses in the area. And hopefully, while I am away at school, the vacant storefronts in Swarthmore will fill with merchants eager to locally source products. The first Saturday I am home, I hope to walk around the corner to a farmer’s market that has grown to include even more local vendors. I think that I, along with the borough, have much to learn and teach about community values and ecological responsibility over the next several years. As I travel beyond Swarthmore, I will seek ways that, as a consumer and community member however temporary, I can foster this type of communal, responsible town across the nation.

I’ve decided to distance myself from the East Coast for college to experience a new part of the country, and I’m really excited for that. But I wouldn’t be very surprised, if in a few years, Swarthmore beckons me home.