Goodbye, Transitions

By NATASHA ROY ’19

The first time I stepped foot on Milton’s campus, I went to pick up my Transitions registration packet. From there I walked into Straus and suddenly it all hit me; surrounded by shiny wood, old books, and an imposing painting of some esteemed looking old white man, I felt out of place. I was at prep school, I told myself in a panic, and immediately imposter syndrome began to set in. Minutes later, however, Ms. Otenti stood in front of all the new students and offered some variation of “Congratulations Milton students; you belong here.” The next week of Transitions underscored this idea at every turn.

Transitions means everything to me. For the last two years, I’ve acted as a Transitions Counselor and those two experiences have become of my fondest Milton memories. When I think of Milton, I think of Transitions—and I know I’ll do so for years to come. Given how attached I am to the program, I’ve naturally had a hard time internalizing the new change since I heard about it a few weeks ago. Still, I understand why the change was made and am genuinely hopeful for the program’s new iteration. I can understand how an integrated program, focused on educating every single new student on key issues concerning inclusion, could very well prove to be the best path towards long term cultural change at Milton.

Still, I can’t help but feel like I’m saying goodbye to Transitions the way it was: the way I knew and loved it. Though I’m excited to see how the new program improves our community, saying goodbye to the old Transitions means saying goodbye to some integral part of myself.

So, here goes my goodbye.

I grew up around people who didn’t look like me, and when I got to Transitions I was asked, for the first time, to think more closely about my identity. I’ve always had a complicated and confused cultural and racial identity, but merely having a space that pushed me to look inward gave me new clarity. Transitions gave me support; it gave me comfort; it gave me deep friendships.

Milton needs to address the self-segregation of its student body, and the new, integrated program may do that well. Still, I’ve found a profound sustenance in having a network of students of color whom I found through Transitions. A few months ago, while I was applying to colleges, one supplement asked me to write about a community that has shaped me. I chose to write about Transitions, if only because it created a voice in my mind telling me that there are people here who understand my experience and can advocate for me. We don’t have terrific levels of solidarity among students of color, but Transitions was that one thing we all had; it created a baseline familiarity. It unified us, and it gave me the feeling that I had a community even when I was the only person of color in a given room.

I’ve met some of my closest friends through the program, both as a new student and as a counselor. Over the course of my three forays with the program, Transitions gave me the people who’ve consistently made me feel stronger during some tough moments. There’s no use getting occupied with hypotheticals, but I can’t shake the feeling that I would probably have dropped out of Milton halfway through my freshman year if it weren’t for the support systems Transitions had offered me.

One of these friends entered Transitions from the middle school. She and I began the program with polar opposite backgrounds. Where I had never stepped foot on this campus until my Transitions registration, she had spent years walking through the various buildings; where I was international, she grew up in Milton, MA; where I needed to adjust to boarding life, she remained at home, with her family. Despite our disparate experiences, Transitions helped both of us in very similar ways. It helped us embrace our respective identities, and we cannot extricate our Milton experiences from the experiences with Transitions.

Some attendees have felt like Transitions placed an unfair burden of them, forcing them to think about their race in an unnatural way. I understand that perspective, but that’s never what transitions was for me. I had to be a person of color during every other week of the year, and that otherness gets exhausting and irritating. But every year in August, Transitions has provided a space for me to just be.

The old format of the program had its flaws. It definitely says something, for example, that I felt so comfortable with my identity during Transitions but not during the school year. I recognize that the changes will likely do a lot of good for this community. Nonetheless, the ‘old’ Transitions made me who I am today, and I will always cherish it.