trevordayschool

Dennis Delgado '89 Multimedia Artist and Professor 4 1 T R E V O R D AY S C H O O L n W I N T E R 2 0 2 2 – 2 0 2 1 When Mason Stark, Director of Alumni Relations, invited me to write about my years at Trevor for this issue of the magazine, it was a pleasant surprise—and, as it turns out, a challenge to put together. Reflections on where I have been are both deeply nostalgic and sometimes bittersweet, not to mention hard to encapsulate in words alone. How could I possibly fit all my great Day School memories into one coherent and readable profile? e thought was daunting! I have incredible memories about my childhood at e Day School, which I attended from Nursery through 8th grade. inking about this makes me miss many people and wonder where they are today. I know that often alumni testimonies use cheesy phrases— "a sense of community" and "supportive environment" come to mind—but that is truly what e Day School was for me. Most of the teachers knew you for a long time and in many roles; they had watched you explore with Cuisenaire rods and learn math skills, or act in a play, learn a musical instrument, or develop as an athlete; so, I always felt I was in good hands and (after an initial adjustment), a valued member of the community. Participating in MiniTerm courses, plays, musicals, recitals, "Democracy Simulation," etc. all make me realize again how unique the school is. As an adult, and (dare-I-say-it) middle- aged man, I understand more clearly the impact that this school has had on my life (and my younger brother's life, too). Being Puerto Rican and from a working-class family, I remember feeling ashamed and even somewhat inferior—because, despite my parents working very hard, they could not always provide the same resources available to some of my classmates. at was difficult to understand and live with; however, with support and financial aid, the school always ensured that I was a part of the institution and a participant in all of its activities. I remember sleep-away camp in Putney, Vermont for six weeks during a summer at e Day School's historic Wyngate Farm. Recently, I told my wife that I had made apple cider there, went hiking and rock climbing, and milked cows. She laughed in disbelief and said, "Who are you?!?" To this day, I cannot listen to a Cat Stevens album or Bob Marley and the Wailers' Legend album without thinking of being on a bus for eight hours en route to Putney. What a great place and time! Memories of the personalities and many talents of the faculty and staff are flooding in; I am trying to remember as many as I can. Here is a brief (if abbreviated) list, without cheating or digging up yearbooks: Ms. Bolano, Mrs. Douglass, Ms. Leven, Mr. Johnson, Mrs. Monjo, Mrs. Augustine, Ms. Alberti, Mrs. Rivera, Ms. Brooks, Mrs. Epstein, Ms. Lowy, Mr. Dewees, Ms. Black, Ms. Feinberg, Mr. Malin, Mr. Haverstock, Mr. Sciezcka, Mr. Swanbeck, Mrs. Brighton, Mr. Briggs, Mr. Cavar, Mrs. Sabatacakis, Ms. Russell, Mrs. Brice, Mrs. Hogan, Mr. Green, Mr. Lindow, Mrs. Holder, Mrs. Finch, Ms. Rolnick, Mr. Voyovich, Mr. Kostofkus, Mr. Landry, Mrs. Sochan, Mrs. Deluca, Mr. Zulakis, Mrs. Grinell, Mrs. Snarr, Mr. Locke, and Fred, the homeless man who frequented 90th Street at the time. I know there were many more, but these were some of the folks who touched my life and the lives of many others. (If I left anyone out, forgive me—it's gotta be my middle age.) en, of course, there are my classmates—some of whom I am still in contact with today, at least through social media. I will spare them embarrassment, but they all made the time very special as well. It was heartbreaking losing Drew Harvey; I was in a state of shock when our class gathered to remember him. Abigail Bing's passing was equally heartbreaking. I was in math classes with Abigail; I recall her intelligence, hard work, and sense of humor. My heart goes out to both families.

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