Scott Peek Photography

A free period at school is either 45 or 70 minutes long. Within one eight-day cycle, I have 660 minutes of spare time. Factoring in cancelled classes and assemblies that ran short, that number is definitely even higher.
Some of these weekly minutes were filled with Mr. May’s AP problems. College essays and supplements. Letters of continued interest. Journalism stories and interviews. Real work, by any reasonable definition a diligent student could conjure up.
Then of course, the other portion was filled with everything else. In some periods, it was Contexto rankings that several others and I would screenshot everyday to keep as memoirs. Other times, it would be participating in more brain-tickling guessing games like “Scrandle” and “More or Less.” Or it was just sitting around a table talking long after everyone had finished their work.
By every metric we think educational institutes technically endorse — academic productivity, college preparation, “appropriate use of time” — this is pretty much just waste. Not much to defend against that, at least not on paper. I couldn’t really tell you how guessing the right word in Contexto sharpened my critical thinking.
But here’s the thing about waste that I’ve realized throughout my free periods in Upper School. Waste is a word that requires a metric. By the metric of college admissions, the majority of how I’ve spent my 660 minutes of free periods per week is waste. By the metric of my GPA, it’s waste.
Yet by the metric of who I want around in my circle when I’m twenty-five — who is going to be at my table, who I’d traverse a city for, who I’d call when something happens — those 660 minutes are going to be a major component of how I picked them. 45 minutes at a time. Or 70. Usually around the same tables, with the same people.
The achievements up until my senior year fit on my résumé. The scores, grades, awards. But the free periods don’t, even though they probably shaped me more than the lines I’ve placed under an “Activities” section.
That’s what feels kind of strange about graduating.
I’m leaving campus officially in only about a week. People tell me I’ll have tons of free time during college. More open time, more independence. I believe them. But it’s a little different to me. Free periods at St. Mark’s were like a gift the school built into my schedule, entrusted to me. They were two blocks of room for me to balance being someone better in terms of academics or being with someone. I don’t think I’ll remember every assignment I finished during those periods, but I’ll remember who was sitting across from me.
The 660 minute timeframe is about to run out. I plan on spending those minutes to the fullest.