A final Cacique Update from the perspectives of the Semester Caciques of Spring 2011:

by Georgiana Anderson and Aldis Gamble

I remember the Monday before we left The Island School, shuffling through the chaotic DOL schedule. I remember listening to my classmates and being fascinated by their stories and excited about their experiences. I remember Lindsey Spring’s story of conquering her fear of the dark or James Curland’s realization that sustainability makes the most sense to him in terms of economics. I remember jumping off the lip of triangle cut after JP Ferro’s DOL and learning that education doesn’t mean grades on a transcript for Izza Drury. And I remember crying as I watched Jessica Resnick and Emma Beecher perform their Demonstrations of Learning, but I couldn’t figure out why. I didn’t feel sad, as I knew I was going to stay in close contact with both Emma and Jessica and would see all my other classmates soon after our time on Eleuthera. And I knew I wasn’t crying tears of joy, so what was it? As I walked down to Boys Dorm Beach to hear Eliza Hazen’s DOL, tears begin to mysteriously tease my eyes once more. Arm and arm with Anne Vetter, she whispered to me: “I’m going to miss you.” I laughed and responded: “Anne I’m not worried, I’m going to see you all summer!” “No,” Anne said, “I’m going to miss you in this place.” And then it hit me, I had been crying because I was going to miss all my friendships that took place at The Island School. Of course I will be close to all my classmates back at home, but it won’t be the same as seeing them thrive and grow within the challenging environment of The Island School. I remember on that Monday before we left the Island School that I recognized how special 48 on Eleuthera was. - by Gigi

I was sitting on the plane next to my friends, wiping our eyes and blowing our noses. We had just boarded the plane, all of us openly sobbing. After the flight crew had ensured that no one had just died, they were quite obliging and allowed us to all sit together. Not long after we sat down, one of us realized how ridiculous the entire situation was, a group of seven teenagers holding hands and crying together while boarding a plane, and soon our tears turned to laughter as we saw the humor in it.

As we took off, I began talking to one of my friends next to me about the up coming reunion later in the summer. The prospect of seeing so many of our friends again was exciting, and helped lift our spirits, but we knew that not everyone would be able to come. My friend commented that we would probably never be able to get every student from Spring ’11 all together again. I was of the opposite opinion. As I plan for it, we have a bare minimum of sixty years of reunions ahead of us, and I have no doubt that at least once in that time we will be able to all be together again. - by Aldis