Senior year was phenomenal. We owned the school in every way. We planned the parties, and we decided who would be let in (usually under-class girls). We were looked up to by the younger guys, who were thrilled whenever we decided to take them out and get them drunk. I got into a few colleges, but not my top choice (Bucknell). My mother wanted me to take a P.G. year regardless of whether or not I got into Bucknell, because she wanted me to get my study skills down pat and she thought I needed another year to mature. I looked at it more along the lines of another (and hopefully a better) chance to get into Bucknell. We were always the noisy spectators, and for some reason, the teachers loved us. On any given day we would skip school and go skiing in the winter or have a barbecue in the spring. In one week, I only attended seven out of a possible thirty-five classes. I didn't get points, nor did I get in trouble with the teachers or the administration. Graduation parties lasted for weeks into the summer, and even when those were done, there was never a shortage of parties. It wasn't until mid-August that all my friends started packing up for college, with the exception of the other two P.G.'s. Then, on September fifth, I packed up and came to Pomfret, a place that proved it could be both the best of times and the worst of times all at the same time.
-- Jared. Autobiography. 1998.
Jeremy and Jared - Amity HS graduation 1997