Issue link: https://trevordayschool.uberflip.com/i/1519579
With a parent's anxiety, we sent Wyeth, a bright, curious, and introspective young child ("Little Peter" to those who knew and loved us both) to his new Kindergarten during the first school year in the midst of the COVID pandemic. His class met in Central Park. Everyone wore masks. And yet, just as Ms. Monjo did for me, Señora Folgar connected with Wyeth, brought him in, made him feel safe, welcome, and valuable. Wyeth immediately came out of his shell, found his own voice, and came home from school each day beaming. In 1983, Ms. Dogan noted that my "spelling and punctuation are improving, although they remain rather haphazard." That same year, in my 7th-grade yearbook, Mason Stark, wished me a great 8th grade, signing off, "See you around." Little could either of us have imagined that almost 40 years later we would, in fact, see each other around. Mason, fellow alumnus and fellow Trevor parent, is Trevor's Director of Alumni Relations. In that role, he invited me to write about myself for this publication to highlight the work I do. That request started this excavation, the opening of this time capsule. Recently, I drafted a decision and order expanding on an administrative law judge's findings related to a complaint by a gay couple who were denied service by a wedding outfitter because they were gay. I've assisted people in getting their livelihoods back after they were fired for being disabled, though not unable. I've helped make sure women who were harassed or who were fired for being pregnant were recompensed, and I've helped individuals who've suffered the indignities of race discrimination get their day in court. This is the work I think Mason was talking about. The truth is, this work could not be done if the work that my teachers did and helped me do (even when I was my "own worst enemy," as Ms. Dogan noted in 1983) hadn't occurred. On a rainy morning in September of 2021, I stood with my second son Emmett (Class of 2034) under the portico at the entrance of the West 88th Street campus, getting ready to meet his Trevor Kindergarten teachers for the first time. A mom and her two sons stepped out of the rain to join us. We were all wearing masks as the COVID pandemic surged on. "What brought you to Trevor?" I asked. "Oh, I went to Trevor—a long, long, long time ago," she replied. Since I, too, went to Trevor a long, long, long time ago, this got my attention. As I started to ask, "How long?" I looked more carefully at her face above her mask and it struck me that Nikki Lofton was my classmate from 1985. The connections are plain. Trevor is a school you come back to. For my family, Trevor's families, teachers, and staff are the terra firma; its values, academics and ambitions are the wide-open sky. Michelle and I feel so fortunate to be sending our youngest son, Jack (Class of 2037) to Trevor's Kindergarten next year. Perhaps, 35 years from now, he'll run into one of his classmates while introducing his own children to their new Trevor teachers. No doubt Trevor will be a far better place and yet remain inexorably connected to the incredible institution it is today and was when I was young. In 1985, I concluded my Day School graduation speech: "I realize how lucky I am to have gone to a school such as The Day School, where I was taught to help others, and to be the person I am today." This remains as true now as it did in 1985. So, what lies in that small capsule beneath the soil on East 90th Street? Goodness, strength, 36 bright futures, all the potential in the world. n Alumni with their families at Homecoming 2022 The Wu-Buchenholz family on vacation TREVOR DAY SCHOOL / 45 INSIDE TREVOR TREVOR TRANSLATES FEATURE AR TICLES ALUMNI