The following is a student's journal entry from the upper school outdoor education trip this fall.
I'm thinking about taking a shower. We're going up another hill, and I'm covered in dust. There's dirt under my fingernails, my hair is in two knotted braids, and overall I feel disgusting. My lungs are at full capacity, not wanting to take in any more air. It doesn't matter how many touchlines coach Corrine makes us do at practice, or how strong you are. Going uphill makes me winded. I hear Sydney G behind me. She's also out of breath. We pick up a conversation. The trial comes to an end. This doesn't stop us, though. We continue up a random wash. Sydney G and I are right by each other, talking, sometimes complaining as we continue. Any sign of dirt becomes rock, and now we're scrambling. I hear my mom's voice in my head saying, "Sometimes, climbing up is fun and easy but going down is dangerous and scary." That's all I think about now, as I push myself further up the rocky wash. Sydney and I stop. "Why are we doing this?" she asks. I know the answer. We signed up for this by coming on the trip. This is the point of these trips, isn't it? To push yourself, To learn from the natural world around you? The view is incredible. I look up; the contrast between the orange rocks and the blue sky makes everything worth it. I remember why I was so eager to come back to this school. Nobody else gets this opportunity. The opportunity to scramble through rocks, find incredible views, camp, raft, and canyoneer with their classmates. Lately, we've been writing about what we're grateful for. This is what I'm grateful for; my friends, family, but most importantly, the outdoors. The amazing places that I travel to. The place is called home. I'm forever grateful that I have never known a life without it. A life without hikes, campfires, s'mores sticking to my fingers, freezing in my sleeping bag, river water dripping from my tangled hair, and seeing the milky way as I fall asleep each night. I know I want a life in the city, surrounded by strangers, but sometimes I don't know how I will do it. All I know is that I'm content in this canyon, surrounded by my closest friends.