We Must Find Gratitude Beyond Burnout: My Love Letter to Milton
By Madeleine Wu ’28
On an inconspicuous Thursday in November, I quit Milton. I stopped attending classes entirely, stopped pretending I finished the readings, and stopped requesting extension after extension from my teachers. Instead, I capitulated to full-time medical leave for the entire rest of the school year.
In the weeks that followed, I craved returning. I constantly ruminated on memories of staying late after class to discuss my favorite books with teachers, watching the sunset through the Millet common room window, and even studying anxiously and manically with my friends. With this distance, my love for Milton only burgeoned.
This reaction was shocking to me. In the past two years, I have participated in a nearly perpetual bemoaning of academic pressure at Milton. I have spearheaded conversations consisting of phrases such as “how can they expect us to get all of this done and have a life?” or “why does it feel like every free hour becomes homework?” I’ve sobbed in my dorm until 3 am, wondering how I could ever finish my coursework while maintaining grades that satisfy me. And I have, on occasion, even dreaded crossing Centre Street and stepping into my classrooms.
However, what I have come to realize is that amidst this fog of burnout, I forwent gratitude for this opportunity. My peers’ and my conversations surrounding Milton became so dominated by what this institution demands of us that we failed to acknowledge what it gives to us.
What we experience at Milton is remarkable: the school brims with an inherent magic. The community—the administration, faculty, and students alike—care so deeply about this place and each other. Our investment in this community manifests in teachers’ inviting us to dine with them in Forbes and the endless compassion of the Skills or Counseling Center. We care so deeply that we devote Forbes discussions to heated debates on phone policies, and we dedicate weeks to preparing for Seminar Day or Boat Dance. Each individual floods the community with such generosity and passion that to distill the experience to academic overload is to overlook the richness of this community.
Additionally, we experience unparalleled opportunities for intellectual engagement at a level few high-school students encounter. I am overwhelmed by the multitude of interdisciplinary classes in our course catalogue, not to mention the teachers whose passion for their subjects is coupled with a sincere interest in us. What a privilege yet what an impossible decision it is for me to choose between “Narrative Journalism & Performance” and “Moral Decision Making & AI.”
Moreover, on a personal note, Milton has shown me what I am capable of. While classes, sports, plays, and clubs have inundated both my social and sleep schedule, they have also enriched my critical thinking skills, intellectual curiosity, and confidence to be capable of anything. And I watch, in awe, as my classmates do to achieve anything and everything. They win national titles in speech and debate and shatter course records in track, making me feel so deeply lucky to be surrounded by peers who challenge me to become the best version of myself and remind me to have endless ambitions.
To be clear, recognizing Milton’s strengths does not mean reducing its flaws. The academic pressure to excel is real and pervasive: I know this firsthand. Nor should this gratitude prevent us from advocating for institutional changes that would benefit the student experience. We should continue to scrutinize Milton’s shortcomings by advocating for a more sustainable culture and writing articles with trenchant critiques. But if we focus exclusively on the pressure, we obscure the extraordinary opportunities and relationships that make Milton worth caring about in the first place.
So, as I brace myself for a tumultuous, pressure-laden junior year (again), I remind myself of the immense privilege I have to attend a high school as remarkable as Milton. I urge all readers to, as they prepare for yet another year at Milton or ready ourselves to walk across Centre St one last time, remind themselves of how profoundly lucky we are for this opportunity.