#006 Ani Petrakova [Class of 2009]

Hi! If we have never met, nice to meet you. If we have and it’s been a while, here is a huge hug, and I would LOVE to hear how you are doing :)

 

I want to tell you about two people who made the biggest impact on my life in college.

 

Matt is six months older than me. He studied aerospace engineering and was one of very few people who didn’t change his major multiple times in college (not that there is anything wrong with that). He had memorized the algorithm for solving the Rubix cube and was known for fiddling with the block and solving it without looking as we discussed philosophy, current events, past events, science, and humor. He and I initially bonded after finding out that we both rejected the partying lifestyle our freshmen year. 

 

Matt graduated from a public school.

 

Teresa is eleven months older than me. She taught me about friendship being one soul dwelling in two bodies. She studied but effortlessly set the curve for every one of her nursing classes, led thoughtful discussions on every topic under the sun in the classroom and out of it, and made fast, deep friendships. We could talk about just about anything for hours and hours, and even if we disagreed, she presented her arguments reasonably with logic free of fallacies, and always in love. She had gotten 5’s on every single one of her AP tests that her school had offered and every university she applied to had begged her to choose them.

 

Teresa graduated from a Catholic school.

 

I bring up the schools that Matt and Teresa went to because I remember being surprised that schools that were neither classical nor Christian (at least not Protestant Christian) could produce such well-rounded, intelligent, and loving people. Wasn’t The Oaks a superior school that had the best system for teaching people how to think, and didn’t singularly prepare students to battle against the forces of the day? Well, considering the number of mental breakdowns I had in college due to anxiety from study skills acquired at The Oaks, and my not entirely undeserved reputation as an argumentative closed-minded weirdo… “singular” may be a word for The Oaks’ preparation, but I do not think it is a complimentary one.

 

By the way, I mentioned mental breakdowns. During those mental breakdowns, it was not people from church or Bible studies that sat with me and coached me through them. My church from home stayed in touch for a while, and maybe they prayed with me from afar, that’s their business, but there were not many people in the trenches with me. Who was in the trenches with me, though?

 

Matt was with me. Teresa was with me. 

 

Here I would like to mention one other thing that these beautiful people taught me about. Even though I could be a belligerent, argumentative, closed-minded weirdo, Matt and Teresa were with me through painful loneliness, even that which I created myself. Furthermore, they each told me that the day they came out to me was, for each of them, the most powerful coming out story they had ever had. What grace and courage they had, setting themselves up for rejection and judgment by revealing to me that they were gay. And what a legacy The Oaks had left on a student, teaching that arguing correctly and looking at anyone who thinks or lives differently as the enemy, such that you end up alienating those around you. They will know we are Christians by our... ability to reason and the schools we graduated from? Wait, no, that's not right.... it's an L-word I'm looking for...

 

In my last year of college, I met the man who became my husband. He is not American, and while he was raised in a Christian family, he also did not go to a classical Christian school. My relationship with him was the one where I really began to wake up to how The Oaks had played a role in how I saw myself so badly. We were discussing modesty and the culture of school dances in his culture vs. mine, and I described the annual lecture on how to behave at the ball.

 

Separating boys and girls (because adolescents can’t be expected to conduct themselves with decorum around the opposite sex? Are we special students here at The Oaks or aren’t we?), a female staff member patronizingly explained to us girls that from our bra-line to our chin was very beautiful to a man. Then from our hips to our bra-line was also very beautiful to a man. Oh and also our legs, our legs are very beautiful to a man. Men’s brains are fundamentally different from women’s brains, and they cannot control their urges and desires. And if a man so much as looked at us, he could immediately fall into temptation and then be a ruined heap of sin. 

 

So… I am a collection of body parts that stir up some sort of reaction in a boy and therefore ruin him. 

 

--An aside: I have a master’s degree in the sciences and education and I am compelled to tell you that statements about fundamental differences in male and female brains are WHAT COMES OUT THE BACK END OF A BULL and not founded in science AT ALL--

 

When I relayed this to my Christian boyfriend (now husband), who had been raised by a Christian father, and he was shocked. “That is so offensive!” he responded. “I’m not an animal, why would they treat me like that?”

 

He told me he loved me for my mind, because I talked about real things. Because I had the most beautiful heart he had ever met. Because I was talented and accomplished, and that he was honored I had chosen to be with him. He admired me. And he told me he thought I was the most beautiful girl in the universe.

 

Believing he meant it took me longer than I care to admit.

 

I wrote this letter to introduce you to three hugely important people who I met outside of The Oaks who showed me how warped and sheltered my thinking had become by going to that school. I learned a lot that was wonderful there, and the system of learning how to learn is good. The Oaks is not a bad school. But here are lessons I had to unlearn upon leaving:

 

Oaksters, your education does not make you special. You do not have a corner on the market on good education because you go to this school. You are groomed into thinking you can be elitists because your school is so different from those around you. But imagine, if you will, an axe whose head is made out of wood. Just because you are unique doesn’t mean you are useful.

 

Oaksters, you are valuable because of who you are. It doesn’t matter what you can do, where you live, what your family is like (families are all effed up anyway, it’s science), what you have done, how you see yourself, who you love. You are valuable. Period. Always and forever, amen.

 

The culture of elitism, in any society on any basis, comes from those in power saying what is better, giving preferential treatment to those who adhere more to this arbitrary standard of superiority, and laying seeds of patronizing mistrust towards those who don’t measure up. It does not come from the Bible or Christian tradition, it is entirely a HUMAN construct. Question it. Challenge it. They won’t like it, but screw them.

 

Your literature, social studies, and history education at The Oaks is SO LIMITED IT IS LAUGHABLY SAD. Learn about the Harlem Renaissance, learn about how the countries of Latin America, South Asia, and Africa threw off their colonial oppressors. And in your own country! Learn about the history of minorities. There is more to the Civil Rights movement than just the events in history books. Read the peoples’ stories, listen to their music and learn more about it. Learn other languages, and learn about other cultures. The world is so full of people, and they will enrich your life if you open your heart to them. But you have to do it yourself.

 

Intestine, fingernail, hair, vulva, back, kneecap, penis, forearm, radius, frenulum, vagina, tongue, nose, eyelash. All words for parts of the body. Nothing dirty or gross about any of them, or about wanting to learn more about how any of them work. 

 

Stay humble. Assume that everyone you encounter has something to teach you, if nothing else, how not to be.

It is ok to believe science, and to trust people who have studied certain subjects more than you have. It is even better to do your own fact-checking of things that people say, ESPECIALLY if what they say sounds extreme or causes a reaction.

Treat others as valuable beings, as more important than you are. Unless they are terrible people. Then write them out of your life. Life is too short to keep toxic people around.

 

There is enough falseness and evil in this world. Be kind, and be honest. Let that define your integrity.

 

If someone is a jerk, tell them they are a jerk to their face. If someone doesn’t respect your “no,” you have my blessing to kick them in the balls.

 

Do no harm, but take no bullshit.

 

Paz, mír, peace,

 

Ani

 

Ani Petrakova, MPH

Saint Louis University Class of 2014

For tracking purposes: #006

#005 Claudia Fain [Class of 2009]

 

Wow, I can't believe this is actually happening. It's been brewing in my mind for YEARS to write a letter to the Oaks. Of course, I had good memories and bad, but the bad ones always stur inside me like a volcano about to erupt. I went to the Oaks for only three years (4th grade-6th grade). Let's take a note from Maria and start at the very beginning. 

I am a Military Brat and youngest of five. I was born in Germany, moved to Montana when I was five --lived there for four years, then moved to Spokane. My parents have always prided themselves on giving us agood education- which I am so grateful for. Honestly, the amount of responsibility they took on to make sure all five of their kids had a good education is so impressive to me. My college was in savings by the time I was five. As a 30 year old now, I'm like....DANG MOM AND DAD YOU ARE SO GOOD WITH MONEY (hehehe). Naturally, with the choices of schools in Spokane, the Oaks looked like a natural choice for me. At the time my parents had us go to private schools until 5th grade and then we went to public. I am not sure why that was the case, but it was fine by me. 

I remember going to meet the principal and learning that they are named The Oaks because oaks are strong, and loved that. I remember having to take a bunch of tests, and bless my sweet little eager heart I was so excited. I always had an eagerness to please, do well and excel. I was so optimistic about these tests, I couldn't wait. Hear comes the sad part....I was at home dressed in my favorite dress at the time, it was new and blue and ADORABLE. I felt so cute, and I was so excited about the prospect of a new school and new FRIENDS. (I love friends you guys...I am a MAJOR people person). My mom is doing her makeup and hair in her bathroom and starts talking to me about how I didn't do well on the tests. My heart sank, and I had a huge knot in my throat. How as this possible...I worked so hard and was so confident that I had done well. She then talked about how the school wanted to hold me back. My hear then EXPLODED. Oh please no...I was thinking..."I can't take 3rd grade again..I'm already on the older side AND the tallest in the class...I'll be SUPER old and SUPER tall...no please no...I was so excited for fourth grade please no..." Of course I burst into tears and told my mom how excited I was for 4th grade and that I couldn't handle the embarrassment of having to do 3rd grade over. This is one of many times that my parents stood up for me against The Oaks. I am beaming with pride as I type this- I just love my parents. They put their foot down and said no, she is not being held back. I was so thankful and promised to work as hard as I possibly could to not fall behind. The Oaks prides themselves on being "two years ahead." Uh...okay? Like what the heck does that even mean?! *eye roll* One thing about me-is that I don't give up. I just work harder and try a different way. 

I begin my 4th grade year. I remember that year was bizarre because it was when 9/11 happened and school started really late. They were having building issues, so we didn't start school until October 2nd- the day after my birthday. My 9/11 memories are me waking up, going downstairs and my mom watching the tv with tears in her eyes. I'm one of the few that wasn't in school that day. My sweet mom made cupcakes for the class, and I remember they were so delicious! I stood in front of the class while everyone sang happy birthday to me. I felt a little weird because I didn't know anyone yet, but I remember loving it because I adore being the center of attention. (I mean I am an actress can you tell?? hahaha).  

In 4th grade I was always behind. Always. I remember my mom reading my report card and being confused. She goes, "You have a 68% and they say that you are failing? That's a D not an F." We then discovered that the Oaks doesn't give D's. Another example of entitlement. It's absolutely ridiculous. Schools should be similar to other schools so if said student leaves, or is going to another school they are ENCOURAGED when they see a D to raise the grade, instead of feeling like they already failed. Just a thought. I have never been more stressed out in my life with homework than I was when I went to the Oaks. I have a college degree y'all. My 4th-6th grade years I was the MOST stressed about grades and homework. Does that make sense to you?! These years are such informative years-and I was doing homework from 4pm-10:30/11. There was an instance from 4th grade that I will never forget. The teacher did a huge lecture on cheating, and how we need to keep our eyes on our own paper. He said if he sees our eyes wandering around he will send us to the principal's office for a spanking. He hands out the tests, and during it I have a question so I raise my hand. I glance down quickly while my hand is raised to look at my paper to make sure that I am going to ask the appropriate question about the test when he gestures for me to come out into the hall. He sternly asks me if I was looking at Rebecca's paper. (Hi Rebecca haha I remember it was you) I timidly told him I wasn't. He then says, "If I catch your eyes wandering again I will send you to the principal's office." I remember being heartbroken. I never would even think to cheat. I could barely eat dinner that night and my dad was so concerned for me but I didn't want to tell him because I was embarrassed. I didn't want my parents to think that I had cheated. 

My supportive parents paid for me to tutor with my 4th grade teacher on weekends. Of course I wish there was a little more communication going on- my parents were tired, as I am the runt. I just know that all of the sudden I'm at tutoring. I didn't mind tutoring- I learned a lot, and did improve. I will say I can contribute a lot of my work ethic to this day to The Oaks. At the end of the year I got the Most Improved award. I was so proud, and honored. It felt so good-to get it especially after the fear that I was going to be held back. I finally felt like I was on the track to success with this school.

HA! JUST KIDDING because here comes....5th grade. Oh dear. What a year. 5th grade was by FAR the hardest year in my three years at the Oaks. I have so many horrifying memories. I know it sounds dramatic-but I currently teach acting to elementary school students. I can't imagine treating and talking to my students the way that I was talked to by this teacher. Please understand that I don't like to play victim. I really don't-but my whole class can vouch for me-this teacher was HARD on me-and not in a good way. I was so hopeful for the year-after receiving most improved I was so excited. That was squashed. My grades went back to failing. I remember spending so much extra time not at recess because I had to redo some assignment, or go over something that I was behind on. The embarrassing thing about being a kid that "failed" classes at the Oaks was that the whole class knew it. As a class, we knew who was excelling, and who was not. They made that so obvious. You wanna know how? ATTENTION GRABBERS. These brightly colored pieces of paper that they stapled to your assignment, or test as they passed them back out to you. The whole class would see them therefore knowing you failed. I disagree with this-your grades should be private between you, your teacher and your parents. Now these attention grabbers we had to show to our parents of course. I remember having at least 10 that I had to show to my dad. I was so scared to show him. I am beaming with pride at this next part because you know what my dad did? He looked at all of them and he wrote on the back of them what was WRONG with all of them. AH!! I remember one assignment he wrote, "I see two incorrect questions on here, and you gave her a 68%?!?!" hehehehehehe My dad is a doctor so he wrote it in his intimidating doctor scribble. (GOOOO DR. FAIN GO!) At the time though-I was terrified to give these to her. I didn't know what would happen...would I get in more trouble?! I think I even said sorry at one point, and handed all of them back to her saying that my dad wrote notes on the back of them. I remember sitting at my desk nervously sweating, lump in my throat as she read through them. I know we had a teachers assistant and I heard her say sarcastically, "Well...that was a nice comment."  I remember going up to her and trying to apologize. I don't even remember what happened. My poor mom would be up with me at 10:15pm helping me do homework, and there was an assignment we didn't get to and she wrote a note to her saying "It was 10:15 by the time we got to this". The teacher then told me that I wasn't being honest with my "times." At the Oaks we had to write down how much time we spent on each assignment in our planner. Um...okay like a 5th grader is going to keep track of that?! I am a creative skatter brained soul. I would do a little bit of homework and then go play, and come back. Frankly-the Oaks assigned us WAY too much and it was hard to keep track of all of that as a 5th grader. I just guessed how much time I was spending on it because I would break it up. 

My mom did have a meeting with her to discuss next steps. They came up with a schedule for me with my homework. I would come home around 3:30-have a 30 minute break-start my homework at 4. I would do my homework until 10:30/11 at night. No joke. My only release was my ballet classes. Which-my mom did say that the teacher WANTED me to not do anymore. Gosh the INSANITY. I am SO glad my mom didn't listen to her. I still take ballet to this day, and it's a HUGE part of my life. I would never take those classes back. 

I have three more instances that give me chills from 5th grade and then we will move on to my final year at the Oaks. 

We were reading a book called Johnny Tremain. Now, I was so anxious at my time with the Oaks and in turn I grew anxious about making sure I understood everything I was reading in the chapter. She was asking us questions, and I was so nervous. She then asked me a question about the chapter-I went BLANK. I was sweaty, tears welling up because I just could NOT remember! I knew the answer was somewhere inside me but I just froze. It was an awkward silence, and she then goes on to say, "It was the main part of the book Claudia." My heart dropped. How could I not remember?? How was I so dumb?? Those were my 5th grade mind thoughts. As a theatre teacher now, looking at this situation it shouldn't have been a big deal. If I were more comfortable with expressing myself I would've said, "I'm sorry i'm just drawing a blank right now." then move on. Embarrassing a student in front of your class is CRUEL and does not encourage learning. 

Another instance, we were reading the Paul Revere poem. After she asked questions, and asked what the soldiers were doing. Again, I got nervous. She of course asked me. I just couldn't think of how to say what I wanted to say, I knew what they were doing-I just was having trouble putting it into my own words. What came out was me softly saying, "They were sending..." She goes, "They were sending?! What? That doesn't make sense Claudia." My thoughts again were, "Oh my gosh Claudia come on GET it together-why does your brain not work??" 

We are at lunch. I have to go in during recess to do some test, or assignment that I failed who knows. I was having so much fun laughing with my friends, that I just lost track of time. As most KIDS (also adults I might add) DO. She comes STORMING IN in front of everyone in the lunch room, angry. I throw my trash away and follow her quickly. I don't remember what she said in the cafeteria but it was condescending of course and I was so embarrassed that people saw. I remember walking across the parking lot to the classroom and she said, "Now were you spending most of your time visiting or eating?" I mumbled, "I don't remember...." 

My grades did improve that year. I remembr having a happy report card by the end of the year. I do remember her talking to a student about his report card and how he was failing. That is so unprofessional. Again-grades need to be private. I also remember being confused-about where my relationship stood with this teacher. Nice one minute, mean and manipulate the next. Through therapy I realized that this is called gaslighting. ooof.  

*phew* Enter 6th grade! YAY! A brand new year. It was already off to a much better start. The teacher was funny, looked like Teddy Roosevelt. I liked that. He also teased me in front of the class but not in a condescending way! After being beaten down so much the year before, I welcomed the attention. I love attention-that's why I'm an actress so it suited me well. Not to mention he seemed to care about my emotions. Which was so refreshing. I remember I couldn't remember my "Lady of Shalott" poem for the poetry contest. My mom told me that he had said that when I started the poem that he knew he would pick me because it was so good-but he felt so sorry for me when I couldn't finish it. That made me feel good. Wow, getting compliments yay! When he was concerned about my grades he talked to me just one on one, and when my eyes would well up in tears he asked, "Are you okay?" That was such a nice feeling to have. Him asking if I was okay-it had been a while since I had heard that from a teacher. I remember being the only one who understood an assignment that he handed out. It was a "read everything before you do everyhing" assignment. My dad had told me about these kind of assignments so I knew what was up. I looked around with a smirk at all of my classmates doing these silly things like drawing five squares on their paper and doing jumping jacks. I got a piece of candy but it was more than that. I was proud that I finally EXCELLED at something. Finally. 

As a working actress and teacher, I have learned how important positive reinforcement is. My time at the Oaks taught me work ethic, critical thinking, and a thirst of knowledge. Along with it came emotional trauma, a confusion on how to sort my thoughts and me second guessing everything and assuming I'm always wrong. To this day, I struggle with always thinking I'm wrong. It's weird I become that scared little 5th grader in some situations and just freeze. 

Looking at the pros and cons list, I would say the cons outway the pros unfortunately. I am hopeful that the school has changed and learned the importance of positive reinforcement and knowing that children learn in different ways. I felt that the Oaks was trying to make me fit into THEIR mold. As educators, we have to try and reach each student, and people all learn DIFFERENTLY. If I was just taught some things differently I would've excelled at the Oaks, I know I would've! I am hopeful that the school has grown, and able to teach with different methods to help the student excel, not beat them up until they are terrified to ask questions. This wasn't always the case with me-but as you see from my stories in many cases it was. 

This is my raw story of the Oaks. It's 2am and I knew I had to immediately get this out as I just found out about this forum. I am currently a working actress and theatre teacher residing in Kissimmee Florida. Some of the skills I learned at the Oaks I use with my students as well! (We sing everything! hehe) I will say I love my life and am grateful for my time at the Oaks good and bad. Therapy has helped and is still helping me heal from all of this. 

 

I would love to connect with more of you as I still am very much a people person. 

Love and light! 

Claudia Fain 

For tracking purposes: #005

#004 Olivia Dupree [Class of 2012]

I was in love with The Oaks for years. I was a successful student, a K-12^th “lifer,” and the type of kid this school was made for: I checked all the little boxes, participated in most of the extracurricular activities, and by every measure I fit in. It wasn’t until years after graduating that I began to understand  how brittle it made my relationship with myself, others and God, how poorly prepared I was for a post- graduate career in the medical field, and how addicted to self-righteous stubbornness I had become in those 13 years.

In 7^th grade I hit puberty and instead of learning about/celebrating my changing body, I was taught to feel shame and fear for my body. I was told to cover myself in order to protect my brothers from stumbling. I wore a vest or jacket over my polo shirt every day, even in the warming months of May and June. I wore a compressed sports bra (sometimes even two at a time) because I thought being smaller chested was better.

Before the school ball each year, female students were required to get their dresses approved by female staff. Women who were supposed to be my role models told me I needed another strap, another sweater, another button. Because my chest was bigger than the other girls in my class, I was never allowed to wear what they could. The same exact dress that would be approved for another girl was deemed “too much skin” on my body. I was taught that my God-given body was a temptation and I needed to wage war against it. Insecurity and hatred for my body took seed quickly in the fertile soil of teenage vulnerability and was watered by the words of my teachers and leaders. I covered up. I hid and hated myself. I thought it was the “righteous” thing to do.

Less than one month after graduating from The Oaks, I underwent breast reduction surgery and for the first time since puberty, I felt like I could wear t-shirts and tank tops in public without “causing a brother to stumble.” I went to great lengths to change myself thinking it was the righteous thing to do.   

            In 8^th grade I took an elective called “Women of Wisdom” where I memorized Proverbs 31 and learned to bake. Meanwhile, the boys in my class took an elective called “Leadership.” There was only one female student in that Leadership class and I, along with many of my female friends, judged her for joining. Somehow there was a collective understanding that leadership “just wasn’t meant” for female students. I was never explicitly told I couldn’t do something because I was a woman, but the message permeated throughout the school in more subtle but deadly ways.

The first question asked to visiting male alumni was, “What are you studying?” and the first question asked to female alumni was, “Are you seeing anyone?” A teacher told his class he was grateful for his wife’s college education because “all those late nights she spent studying prepared her for sleepless nights at home with the kids.” The only female role models provided to me were stay at home mothers and elementary school teachers. Obviously, there is nothing wrong with being a mother or a teacher; I just wanted to see more. Where were the female scientists? The politicians? The writers? The artists?

Still, I loved that place.

In 9^th grade I studied “American Literature” in the most homogenous way possible. The required reading list of 10 books that year had one book from a Black author and two from female authors. This lack of diversity was not limited to English classes. White Christian men made up the majority of my high school teachers, and white Christian men were the authors of nearly all my textbooks and the leaders of all my lectures. White Christian men were tasked with far too much, expected to be able to speak with authority on any and every subject despite their often limited life experiences. How wonderful would it have been if teachers were able to speak from a place of passion and experience?  So yes, let my White English teacher teach me C.S. Lewis. But let a Black English teacher teach me Phillis Wheatley and Maya Angelou. Let a member of the Spokane Tribe in to teach the local Indigenous history of Washington.

They said they were teaching me Literature, History, and Geography, but what they were giving me was a narrow Eurocentric education through a conservative religious and political lens. The absence of diversity in the curriculum was appalling and the fact that it wasn’t seen as a loss is even more so. How much richer an education could I have had if the faculty had crafted a curriculum that prioritized diversity?

When I got to college, I slowly…ever so slowly made friends with people who were not white. I attended a meeting with Black Students Union and can still remember the look on their faces when I told them that I had never once heard of W.E.B du Bois or James Baldwin. Why had I learned about Martin Luther and his 95 theses in at least three different classes, but can’t recall specifically learning about Martin Luther King Jr’s Marching across the Alabama River? We had an entire “history emphasis week” on the 1960’s and I can’t remember ever addressing the civil rights movement for racial justice during that time.

Still, I followed the lessons dutifully and listened well. Still, I loved that place.

In 11^th grade my parents divorced. There was only one teacher who had the guts to talk to me about it with sincerity. I was ashamed of my parents and felt isolated from my class. I remember desperately seeking representation at the school, trying to seek out the other “broken” families at The Oaks for support, understanding, and comfort. I could count the number of divorced parents on one hand.

I went to a church where many other Oaks families attended and watched as the church publicly excommunicated my mom later that year for adultery. The Oaks community followed suit. Few spoke kindly to my mom after that, if they talked to her at all. I starred in the Spring play my senior year and she didn’t feel safe coming to see me. She missed my Christmas concert and graduation that year out of fear of what the other parents would say to her.

Still, I was so sold on all the promises The Oaks had made.  I loved it so much that I jumped through countless mental hoops to find a way to justify my investment in the very community that made my mom feel completely disgusting and sinful. I chose The Oaks over my mom every time, internalizing shame for her that I saw modeled all around me. She used to be a celebrity at that school, with her famous chocolate chip cookies that she never gave out the recipe for. But after she had the affair, it was almost like she never existed. Nobody mentioned her name or brought up her desserts. It got to the point where I didn’t even want her at my school functions. I regret to say that by 12^th grade, I began taking after the many Oaks parents and teachers at the school who fully committed to the excommunication of my mom and tried to ignore her whenever I could.

In 12^th grade I delivered my senior thesis on the use of SSRIs and the Christian faith. My position was that taking medication for the treatment of mental health disorders was compatible with Christianity and not a sin against God. I received an incredible amount of criticism for my position: “Antidepressants interrupt your connection with God” ;  “There is joy to be found in the suffering” ; “Pray harder to find what God is telling you through depression.”

Reading my thesis now as a healthcare professional, I am shocked and embarrassed at how much time I had to spend laying out the scientific foundation of mental health disorders. Outside of The Oaks, this is not a controversial issue. The body of empirical evidence for SSRIs in the successful treatment of mental health disorders is vast, yet we were made to think mental health disorders could be dealt with willpower and religion. But I’ve seen in my own life the ways that these methods can be dangerous and unreliable for treating mental health disorders.

In 2013, my mom died by suicide and her final words written on a scrap piece of paper were, “you won.” I am not here to blame the school for my mom’s death. She was a complicated woman suffering from a very real mental health disorder. But I do wonder how different things might have been had there been a safe place for her to receive treatment and support among my school community.  

When I graduated, I sat down with the headmaster for my “Senior Exit Interview.” It was my 30-minute slot to share my thoughts on my Oaks experience and I couldn’t wait. After all, I was the poster child. I would be graduating with good grades, a couple awards under my belt, and a solid plan for my future. I figured the headmaster would be eager to hear what I had to say. But instead of listening to my thoughts or asking me any questions, the headmaster talked at me for over half an hour about my personal home life. I will never forget when he told me the church should have excommunicated my mom sooner.

It wasn’t until years later that I came to understand the way I loved The Oaks. I worshiped it like an abusive lover, a thrilling drug that made me feel brave and desperate, adored and despised, powerful and empty at the same time. The Oaks sold me on the promise of answers and having confidence in knowing “the truth.” They said they’d teach me to think critically and carefully about the information I would encounter after graduation. But the reality is that I graduated with a stubborn mind, ready to use my logic and rhetoric to beat “the truth” into anyone who disagreed with me. I was finished with learning. Instead of showing me how to think critically, The Oaks had spoon fed me everything they felt I “needed to know” without allowing me to question any of it, then sent me off to convert the world into agreeing with me.

That intoxicating feeling of being so certain you are correct gave me a security that I clung to when everything else in my world was breaking. That security was difficult to let go of but something that I would inevitably lose. The detox began when I got to college. I was sorely unprepared for a career in medicine and struggled through science classes. I knew nothing of current events or geography or global affairs. I didn’t know how to talk to people who were black or gay or Muslim. I fumbled my way through courses on World History, Indigenous Literature, Global Religions. I was confused as to why nobody else seemed to think Latin and Socratic theory and Beowulf were half as important as I had been led to believe. Any time the subject of High School came up I would try to talk about something else.

It took many years, several incredible role models, and a few wonderful counselors to really understand and process what 13 years at The Oaks had cost me. This is not to deny the good that came from my time there. During high school, I fell in love with writing and rhetoric largely in part to the heavy emphasis on those subjects. I appreciated the small class sizes and was able to build excellent relationships with several of my teachers. I found a lifetime friend in those hallways. Good things happened to me there, but looking back, I am more certain now of what it cost me and I am less certain that it was really worth it. I am forced to wonder if I could have made peace with my own body, learned more about the world, and graduated with a more open heart had I gone elsewhere for school.

They said they’d send me off into the world with the skills to be a lifetime learner: an open heart, a curious mind, and a driven spirit. I do have those things now, but I didn’t get them from my time at The Oaks. In fact, those things I gained only after years of unlearning, years of painfully stretching my scar tissues and letting go of the bitterness and fear that The Oaks instilled in me.

To any parent of an Oaks kid, know that these vignettes barely scratch the surface. To any alumni who relate to this, you’re not alone. To any current faculty at The Oaks, I hope you’re better than when I left you. To any current student at the Oaks, there is a difficult road ahead. I wish you luck.

 

With love,

A Former Oaks poster child

And because you probably guessed it already,

Olivia DuPree

For tracking purposes: #004

#003 Natasha Cheeley [Class of 2009]

 

Being a female at The Oaks is incredibly challenging.

 

Here is a letter to Moms and Daughters, from a [recovering] feminist.

 

To the Oaks Moms:

First, the school can't run without you, so if you want to change something, change it.

I watched in awe as Oaks Moms picked up all types of jobs at the school from coach, to teacher, to Program [Auction] Manager, to Trip Coordinator, to Theater Director - just on repeat, when there was a need, there was a Mom.

 

But there were some moms who did not get heavily involved, and now, as my friends start having kids, I realized many of those moms suffered from or struggled with Mom-guilt. Whether it was because of a job, or a medical reason, or total apathy, The Oaks runs on Mom-Blood, and I want to say thank you, because MANY times, I talked a mom into hosting a party or letting me borrow something, and I could be ruthless at times.

 

To being ruthless.

 

For context, I graduated in '09 in a class of 15 females, and 2 males. I attended Biola University in Los Angeles, attended the honors program, graduated cum laude, established a career in tech, and recently transitioned from a job at T-Mobile Headquarters to a similar role at Nike Headquarters. I have competed two full Ironman triathlons, and 4.5 years ago, my older brother unexpectedly died. All these are critical parts of my journey.

 

Back in high school, I asked a lot of questions, defied a lot of rules, and spent a lot of time crying in the bathroom. I had two versions of me going at all times: this daring, opinionated, confident, ruthless version, and the other that was scared of disappointing anyone and sobbed in the locker room through the entire talent show audition because of a trip to the principal's office. I doubt this comes as a surprise, that many of us put on a brave face while crying into pillows with no one around. 

 

I now can realize, I was a closet feminist trapped in a patriarchy telling me to warm my soul over the inviting flames of Proverbs 31 until I melted into a godly woman. But try as I might, I couldn't figure out how to weave my daring, risk-taking, challenging the status-quo, dream chasing self and at the very least get her to appear to submit to authority.

I am pretty sure that is what they wanted: Smart females who knew the difference between defiance and submission, and who chose submission.

 

But my mom was very OK with me challenging the status quo. She had a history with being kicked out of male-dominated board  meetings, and knew what it meant to be a natural leader as a female. To her credit, she helped me navigate the countless times I disagreed with a rule about wearing nylons, an assignment that seemed pointless, and when it came down to whether my ball dress was appropriate or not, she never shamed me. However, I can tell you many stories about when my male teachers thought they knew what it was like to be a female. Explained what women want in a rhetoric class, taught us the psychological differences between the genders in an elementary school classroom: men want respect, and women {just} want love. Many times, I received comments about being seductive, conversations about my rebellious heart, or was offered a second chance to prove I could submit rather than show defiance. Bible class was often crowded with female figures who were pathetic, weak, a prostitute, or a ready and willing vessel - and the goal was to be like the elusive Proverbs 31: Woman of Wisdom. Through all of it, I didn't advocate for myself, and the culture of victim blaming was too deeply embedded that even if I had advocated, I don't know that I would have made much of a dent.

 

To all my female comrades both past and present: feminism is the belief that we are equal, that everyone deserves respect, and women are leaders. Moms at the Oaks, whether they like it or not, are some of the most amazing examples of Christian Feminists -- a fun little phrase that I believe many folks want to believe is an oxymoron. But if there was ANYTHING I could do differently, I wish wrote my thesis on Christian Feminism, and made every teacher there wildly uncomfortable. These days, I make up for my scared past self by building respect and equality into the fabric of my friendships, my "romantic" life, and my professional relationships.  I take every chance to correct the thinking that smart, ambitious females are just "loud, bossy, shrill, or desperate." If a current female student ever reads this, and has the instinct that the boys and girls in her class are being treated unequally, say something. Say it to your friends, say it to parents, say it to other classmates, say it out loud until it changes. Be an advocate, and make your future self proud.

 Cheers, 

Natasha Cheeley

#001 Henry Rogland [Class of 2010]

 To the administrators and faculty.

It is only after a significant time apart from it that I can begin to unpack my time at the Oaks. My tenure there concluded over a decade ago and yet memories of my time there resurface to this day. I would like to say that they are all happy memories, but that would be inaccurate. I would like to say that they are not painful, but most of them are. Most of all I would like to say that the education I received was balanced and has remained relevant, but again I cannot.

To speak briefly of the education I received, in hindsight it was mixed and imbalanced. A western centric education is part of the terrain when speaking of classical Christian education and the little attention paid to other parts of the global was often anachronistic, inaccurate, or a strawman portrayal of other belief systems besides Christianity.

And what of the Christian element? One class that I was a part of was told by a then teacher now headmaster in cloyingly earnest terms that “Statistics is inherently a Christian science.” This sentence has stuck with me for more than a decade in part because of the inherent contradiction of the phrase ‘Christian science” but also because of how often the school tried to draw a parallel between events or achievements in society and culture and the society being Christian. Achievements were always something that God was to be credited for, but never failures. Personal failures in education were attributed equally to a rebellion with God or to not applying oneself fully to the education.

 To speak further about the education, one of the focal points of education at the Oaks is the rigorousness of the education. What might have begun as a well-intentioned attempt at fostering a love of learning quite severely missed its mark.

 At one juncture in my time there, recording the amount of time you spent daily on homework was part of the routine and required. It was not uncommon then for homework times to exceed 5 or 6 hours each night as an average, let alone the number of times the homework extended into the early hours of the next day just to stay afloat. And what does that do for the students? After a certain point, no one really cares what they’re learning because they’ve got a quota to meet and penalties if it isn’t met. Labor for labor’s sake alone is worthless. The focus on the knowledge itself and why it matters is lost when the focus is on quantity rather than quality.

Exceedingly little care was placed on the wellbeing and personal lives of the students themselves. At no point was the question asked: “What is the human cost of what we’re having them do?” 

Finally, I would be remiss if I did not speak about authority at the Oaks. For a school that has put so much time into forging students into effective orators and debaters, it entertains surprisingly little tolerance for debate regarding its own teachings and methodology. Or at least it did. Perhaps things have changed. I hope that’s the case.

There was an unstated Oaks dogma which demanded that its claims towards Christianity and education not be questioned. A strange duality was evident as the faults of other doctrines or belief systems were laid bare but the harder questions and claims that Christianity had to account for were never addressed to the depth that was necessary.

Ultimately, the sentiment that arises when I think about my time at the Oaks is the same one that arises when I think of my 3^rd favorite kind of baking chocolate, bittersweet.

I made several lifelong friends and had several excellent teachers one of whom gave me insight and direction for what my skills were and what my career path could be and now I do it for a living. But that came at great cost and it remains unclear whether that was a price worth paying.

Now success comes despite, not because of, my time at the Oaks and my sentiment for the institution can be expressed in a quote by John Greenleaf Whittier: “Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, it might have been.”

 - Henry Rogland

For tracking purposes: #001

#002 Peter Barber [Class of 2008]

 

Letter to an Oaks student, from an Oaks student.

 

Hello! We don’t know each other, but I was an Oakster too - from first grade up through my senior thesis and high school graduation. That was twelve years ago now, though it feels like longer than that. 

 

Recently, a friend of mine asked me what I’d say to a student currently there. It was a good question, so I wrote this letter as my answer. There’s no reason you should care what I say about your school, I get that, but I’m pretty sure some of this letter might echo how you feel too. See if I’m right or not?

 

This is the part where I tell you that I’m also The Wrong Type of Oaks Alum: one that your teachers would undoubtedly think of as untrustworthy. Maybe you will too, but it’s your choice to make.

 

See, I’m not going to tell you that The Oaks is extraordinary or superior or how lucky you are to be there. It does teach some great things, but...well, it’s just another place trying to do something very big by thinking very small. 

 

I’m also gay, and The Oaks doesn’t like that. I’m not the only gay Oaks alumni either, and they like that even less. I’m telling you this because if I didn’t mention it, your teachers would be tempted to say I’m hiding it from you, since I’m ashamed of it and/or trying to trick you, neither of which is true.

 

Actually, if you want - take this letter to class and have everyone read it together. Then spend some time discussing it to see where I’m wrong, where my worldview is faulty or I used a logical fallacy etc. Find my base assumptions, see if they line up with yours. Why or why not? It’ll make for an interesting class if nothing else, and possibly an easy “A” for you on an essay explaining why I am not to be trusted.

 

So let’s start talking about some Oaks specifics. 

 

First up: grades. It’s so stressful, isn’t it? I remember the knots in my stomach about report cards. Those numbers and letters that allegedly told me exactly how smart I was, how much potential I had. I know it is a very real thing right now, especially as you think towards college, but hold it loosely. Your intelligence really has nothing to do with your grades. Honestly. And unless you’re trying to get into some really pretentious university, most higher education is only too happy to take your money, regardless of if you got an A or a C in calculus. Plenty of research has shown this. Look it up if you’re curious. Also - don’t go to some really pretentious university, those people are kind of insufferable to everyone else.

 

Fun fact: community college is so, so, so cheap. Don’t discount it. Take some pre-reqs there for a fraction of the price, then transfer to whatever other school you want. After college, literally no one cares what school you went to in a serious way anyway. And if they do? Not a person whose opinion you need to care about.

 

Speaking of not caring, here’s another unpopular fact: learning Latin is a waste of time. You probably secretly knew this already. Everything written in Latin has already been translated into English by scholars who put their life’s work into mastering translation. They did the work for you. Hooray! One less thing to think about. 

 

Learn a living language instead, like Spanish or Japanese or Hindi. There is nothing more thrilling than overhearing someone in the grocery store speaking another language, ACTUALLY KNOWING what they’re saying, and asking in their own language if you can practice conversation for a minute? They will be shocked, and very kind. Learning another living language will also help fill in some of the massive gaps in world history and sociology that The Oaks conveniently ignores.

 

Here’s what actually was helpful for me: the framework The Oaks gives, where I learned to think critically, ask questions, love learning, and see the possibility of being someone who can really make the world a better place. Hold on to all of that. Those are such good things. The Latin, the grammar chants, the memorized Scripture - that’s the fluff, and it fades with time. That’s ok. Let it fade. You got what you’ll really find useful.

 

Ask questions. Ask so many questions. Ask really stupid, basic, obvious questions. Ask the questions that annoy the adults in the room. Ask questions that make your fathers uncomfortable. Those are usually the ones worth asking.

 

Read a book, especially if you’re told to not read it. After The Oaks, I was so tired of reading books that I hardly read anything at all for several years. That was nice. Sometimes it’s nice to rest. Then, I remembered how great reading can be when it’s not an assignment, and started reading all sorts of new things. That was nice too - reading what I wanted, as slow or fast as I wanted. 

 

I would also tell you to “be yourself”, but that’s such cheesy advice. What does that even mean? It’s hard to be yourself when you don’t really know who you are. Most people don’t really know who they are at all. I’m still learning who I am. So here’s the question to get started (please don’t write an essay on it, that sounds so tedious): who are you, outside of what you’ve been told you’re supposed to be? It’s a complex question, but trust me. It’s worth it to find the answer. Look for guideposts: people who are kind. You’ll see it in their eyes. Look for songs that make you cry, especially if you don’t really get why. One day you’ll understand. Look for friends who are as weird as you are. They’re the best ones. Go to therapy. Everyone needs it.

 

But right now, you are already growing. You already know more than you realize. You’re going to learn a lot more. The world after The Oaks will blow the lid off that tidy education in the best way possible. Your teachers know this, and fear it. It’s not an end though - it’s a beginning. Embrace that. Not for my sake, but for yours. You’ll be amazed at how far you go.

 

And to the gay Oaks kids reading this: you are not alone, and you are worth more than you can imagine. Survive this time, find people you can trust, and then run towards your best and brightest dreams. I’ll see you out here in the wide, wild, beautiful world. 

 

All my love,

Peter Barber

Hi all, if you’d like to reach out directly to me about what I wrote above, you’re welcome to. Shoot me an email at pbarber19@gmail.com. 

For Tracking Purposes: #002