Phillips Exeter Academy

Stranger in a strange land

Boston Logan airport Terminal E, waiting on my flight to Munich for spring break, I think about the seniors in my travel writing class, who have spent the past few weeks plotting adventures to far-flung destinations like Chile, Sri Lanka and the Maldives. The final project for ENG583: Stranger in a Strange Land invites each student to design a journey to anywhere in the world, with little more than $2,000, a travel buddy and a plane ticket. As I listened to them presenting their big plans during the last week of winter term, I recalled the adventure I’d recently taken for my own sabbatical, and I felt inspired all over again.

In the seven years I’ve taught this English elective about travel writing, ethics and privilege, my students’ plans have included bike riding through Laos, skiing in North Korea and taste-testing jollof rice in Ghana. Some have opted to hike in Patagonia, caravan through Namibia, or visit the still-radioactive remains of Chernobyl. As they figure out their (imagined) itineraries, they learn how to set a budget, consider travel logistics and account for safety factors, visa requirements and other limitations. They teach each other by presenting their findings, enticing us to put new destinations on our collective bucket list.

During our planning stages, I always remind my students about the relationship between what you value and how you spend your money. “When you’re paying your own way, you’ll find out pretty quickly what you value most,” I tell them. And the narratives they develop, based on whom they’re bringing, what they’re doing and what they value, never fail to entertain, and inspire: One student, impassioned by lemurs, sought to study them in Madagascar, while another opted to go to London, rent a chauffeured Rolls-Royce and spend a night at the Ritz. Another wanted to see for herself the so-called “snow monsters” in Mount Zao, Japan, while another let a random country generator decide that he’d plan a trip to Azerbaijan.

Beyond the immersive engagement and creativity in these trips, what I love most about this project is its capacity to give our students the tools and knowledge for turning their dreams into reality. How do you turn a “maybe, someday” idea into an actual plan?

It’s no wonder, then, that my students inspired my sabbatical in spring 2023, as I endeavored to realize my “maybe, someday” dream to travel around the world. I had experienced the benefits of traveling with colleagues while visiting different schools and regions of China in 2012; I had spent 2015 teaching English at School Year Abroad in Viterbo, Italy; and I had just returned from chaperoning the Stratford, UK, program in the fall.

I’d been ready to take my first sabbatical in March 2020 (I had lined up two writing residencies in Spain and Portugal), but the pandemic lockdown kept me in Hoyt Hall instead, teaching on Zoom and listening to podcasts while baking sourdough bread and growing a vegetable garden. When the world finally opened up, and I got the OK for my sabbatical in spring 2023, I decided it was time to think big.

In winter 2022, as my students discussed the ways travel transforms both travelers and the places they visit, I was busy spending my weekends hastily hatching my Boston-to-Boston itinerary. I had plans to be in Seattle in March for a writers’ conference, so the trick was figuring out how to get to Asia from the West Coast on a budget.

Following the literal path of least expensive flights, my itinerary brought me first to Hawaii, then Japan, South Korea, Vietnam, Taiwan and Hong Kong. From there I went to the Philippines, Malaysia, Cambodia, Singapore and Australia. Then I traveled to Bali, Thailand, Nepal, the United Arab Emirates, Israel and Palestine. The last leg of my journey took me to Egypt, Albania and Germany, with a quick stopover in Iceland. In all, fueled by the Academy’s sabbatical stipend and my own savings and paycheck, I visited 20 countries from March through mid-July, 15 of which I’d never visited before. I returned home to Exeter in August, readjusting to my life on campus, teaching English, advising The Exonian and living in Dunbar Hall.

As far away as I was from campus during my travels, I’d often find a tie right back to Exeter. For example, a Japanese woman I’d met on the China faculty trip welcomed me to Tokyo, and we ventured around the city together to see the cherry blossoms. In Seoul, I was surprised to learn that a woman introduced to me through my cousin had sent her sons to Exeter Summer; in Manila, I had a chance to visit and lead a short workshop with the faculty at the Harkness-inspired Beacon School, founded by Mailin Paterno Locsin and her husband and PEA alum, Andy Locsin ’80, thanks to an introduction from their daughter, Adela Locsin ’13, whom I knew when I lived in Wheelwright. In Taipei, I was welcomed by relatives of my PEA colleague Dr. Szu-Hui Lee, and even the language barrier did not diminish a genuine feeling of mutual joy and care. Meanwhile, another Wheelie, Lily George ’14, and I crossed paths twice, once in Seattle and later in Taipei, where she was continuing to study Chinese. And in Singapore, Casey Lynn Siagian, who had participated in the Summer Writers’ Workshop at Exeter in 2013, met me for a lovely afternoon in the botanical gardens.

Sometimes, the Exeter ties were too random to fathom: On a late-night glowworm tour near Sydney, Australia, I was chatting in the dark on the ride back with a young couple, only to realize that I had been the young man’s first English teacher at Exeter 11 years earlier. (“We planted daffodil bulbs and wrote poems about them,” he recalled.)

Technically, I’d spent those five months traveling solo, but it rarely felt that way. Between my frequent updates on social media, the books I’d read by authors from almost every country, and the people I met along the way, I never felt alone. I felt a genuine sense of community and connection everywhere.

Lin Chi, for example, invited me to eat a banh xiao on my first night in Saigon, and we spent the next few days together. Several women doctors on a flight from Manila to Puerto Princesa arranged for my safe arrival to my hotel. A host of friends online offered to wire me cash when I lost my bank card. When I’d send off another some of them were right there with me. In those five months, I was never truly alone.

The sabbatical is just that: a pause from Exeter’s daily grind, a chance to recalibrate or strengthen why or how we teach, and an opportunity to learn something new. Beyond personal growth, one of the most exciting aspects of this journey was learning more about where many of our students, or their extended families, call home. Before I left, I met with members of the International Student Organization and invited them to follow me on my travels through Instagram (@t.here_and_k.now), and some of them did. Every so often I’d get a short note or recommendation for wherever I happened to be, and I loved sharing my journey with the community.

This past year, it’s been such a pleasure to meet some of our international students or colleagues and be able to chat with them about places they know well. It’s been a privilege to learn about different regions of the world by actually visiting them — eating the food, exploring different neighborhoods and meeting new people. After my trip, I feel more connected to both my students and colleagues who call these regions home.

When my seniors in English 583 dreamed and planned big, they gave me permission to do the same. Realizing I could puddle-jump my way around the world on a budget, with nothing more than a small carry-on and backpack, and find friends along the way, enabled me to experience in real time how connected we all are, or can be. Putting myself in a learner’s mindset for those five months — being both teacher and student, if you will — helped me to understand myself in ways I hadn’t expected. 

Now that I’m back on campus, I feel hardier, more capable and creative. As someone who still dislikes sharks and putting her face in the water, I’m now a certified open-water diver who encountered a shark in Bali. I rode scooters solo in Vietnam. I got stitches in Dubai. I learned about the history and legends of the Indigenous communities at Mossman Gorge, just outside Cairns, Australia, and taste tested more kinds of fried chicken than I care to admit. (Thailand and South Korea take the win, in a toss-up.) I have a host of new books to introduce to my students in the fall.

When I’m back in my classroom in Phillips Hall, I’m excited to continue to help our community members keep connecting with the wider world and to teach them to be responsible and caring travelers and explorers. As I’ve encountered firsthand, so much of the learning that happens while traveling cannot be taught; you’ve got to get out there and experience it.

While my next sabbatical is still a few years away, the learning continues as I head off to Bavaria for spring break. My plane is boarding. … I must be off!

This story first appeared in the Spring 2024 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.

The academics of well-being

The bells ring and, in the hallways of the Academy Building, a mad rush ensues: Students and teachers walking in every direction, crowding the staircases, filling the bathrooms, lining up at the water fountain and holding doors open for each other as they hustle between academic buildings. The school is noisy and active, then returns to relative silence as the next class begins.

The chaos of the passing period is well-known. Remember dashing from Phelps Science Center to the top floor of Phillips Hall? It’s a challenge that Exeter is addressing this spring with the start of a new pilot class schedule that increases passing time to a comfortable 10 minutes. Perhaps more significant, the experimental schedule lengthens in-class time to 60 minutes from 50 and reduces the frequency of class meetings to three or four times per week.

These changes might seem small but could make a huge difference in students’ lives. With fewer classes each day, students will make fewer transitions. Refocusing takes mental work, and if one’s brain is still thinking about that math problem from the prior class, it might not be following the conversation about the novel in English. Fewer class meetings per day also reduces the number of homework assignments due the next day. That said, the new schedule does allow teachers to assign more homework per class meeting. The thinking is that students have fewer subjects to focus on each day, so they can concentrate more fully on each assignment.

Considerable time and thought informed each of these choices. Discussions about the schedule, including feedback from students and faculty, began in the spring of 2021. As the COVID pandemic subsided, longstanding concerns about the pace of life at Exeter collided with new awareness of mental health challenges for adolescents. A student survey conducted by Director of Institutional Research Kari Hart in the fall of 2022 found that 71% of responding students reported that they “frequently” or “almost always” feel stressed about their schoolwork or academic experience. The schedule became one of many factors to consider in reducing that stress. Slowing the “pace of life” — the number of required commitments each student has in a day — is an area that the school can control.

Last year, several teachers participated in a smaller version of the pilot, canceling one class meeting every other week and extending the remaining classes by 10 minutes. The feedback from this small group was positive, “but the real benefit of that schedule is actually only realized if you do it for all of your classes,” says Jeanette Lovett, director of studies and one of the administrators overseeing the pilot.

Also involved in the planning is a recently appointed Schedule and Calendar Committee, co-chaired by Lovett and Assistant Principal Karen Lassey, and composed of faculty across disciplines. While finalizing the details of the pilot, the committee has been researching the daily schedule of other schools. Exeter’s experiment has good company: “A lot of peer schools are moving in the direction of longer formats less frequently,” Lovett notes. The committee has also designed surveys, with Hart’s assistance, to administer to students and faculty to gauge the effectiveness of the new schedule.

This isn’t the first time that Exeter has experimented with schedule changes. In fact, Lassey was a member of a similar committee in 2006, when the school was pondering ways to reduce the number of Saturday classes. The switch from semesters to trimesters in 1986 precipitated a particularly salient set of schedule overhauls. Classes began to rotate to different meeting times throughout the week, and sports were no longer isolated to the afternoons to accommodate multiple teams in indoor facilities during the winter. Over the years, Exeter has tried shorter class periods, double class blocks, rotating weeks, later start times and earlier end times. More recently, the pandemic necessitated several

different schedules to accommodate the students around the world attending class remotely and social-distancing needs when students were on campus. Being nimble and responsive to a changing world is an important strength for an educational institution.

Pedagogically, perhaps the biggest unknown related to the pilot is Harkness. Ten additional class minutes can feel like a lifetime to teachers and students when the discussion stalls. Many teachers are considering ways to break up the hour-long class with group work, in-class writing or additional challenging math problems. But no one wishes to lose the spirit of Harkness. When the discussion is flowing, the students are talking to one another, and big ideas are emerging — those are magical moments that can happen only with sustained time around the table as a group.

Longer classes may provide more opportunities for that magic to happen. English Instructor Willie Perdomo was one of the teachers who tried the new schedule last winter. Longer class periods “enhanced discussions,” he says. “We were able to explore assigned texts on a granular level. Students had more time to organize their annotations and strategize their entries. With Harkness, a discussion might hit a sweet note toward the end of a class and students often leave such a class wishing they had more time.” In those moments, an extra 10 minutes perfectly capped the class.

Though all classes at Exeter use Harkness, some disciplines may adapt to the change more easily than others. There may be a limit to how much content can be covered reasonably in any individual class or homework assignment. This could be especially challenging for subjects like math, science and modern languages that require a certain level of content coverage to prepare students for the next term. Some departments fear that fewer points of contact with students during the week will weaken retention, and class registration, forcing more time to be too! Here it is in 1949. spent on review. And, the

loss of weekly 70-minute classes means that science labs will need to be shortened, although more frequent, shorter labs may also be possible. However, in any discipline with a rigorous amount of content to cover (preparing for Advanced Placement exams, for example), the schedule change may be stressful.

“It’s going to be the first draft of a model,” Lovett says, and every teacher’s curriculum will need adjustments, even for longtime teachers who have honed their syllabi over the years.

On the other hand, this experiment may lead to further discussions about the nature of learning and the goals of our curriculum. Is the purpose of a course to achieve a large breadth of learning within a discipline, or is the goal to achieve depth in a few significant areas, even if fewer topics are covered? How can we best prepare our students for college and beyond?

Though educators may disagree on the answers, the spring term pilot will provide an opportunity for students and faculty alike to ponder these questions, perhaps during a leisurely walk to their next class during the 10-minute break. “Any advances in pedagogy and community-building require innovation and experimentation,” Perdomo says. This spring, the whole community will weigh in as the experiment unfolds. 

Betty Luther-Hillman is an instructor in the History Department. This story first appeared in the Spring 2024 issue of The Exeter Bulletin. 

A conversation with PEA’s sustainability education coordinator

One of the overarching goals of the Academy’s Sustainability and Climate Action Plan is to “ensure that every student graduates from Exeter with a fundamental understanding of the principles of sustainability and the issues posed by climate change.” How do we do that? That’s a key concern for Patrick Kelly, who was named the Sustainability Education Coordinator this academic year, following Science Instructor Andrew McTammany. We caught up with Kelly, also an instructor in religion, ethics and philosophy, at the start of spring term to hear more about his role.

What does the Sustainability Education Coordinator do?

The role entails many kinds of work, including the planning of Climate Action Day, working with environmentally focused student clubs, working with my counterpart in facilities management, Warren Biggins, and sitting on a number of committees like the Natural Resources Committee, the Environmental Stewardship Committee and the Curriculum Committee.

Getting to work on what teaching in this era of climate change entails, at a school that is taking seriously its commitment to build a more sustainable campus, is exciting. This year has been one primarily of learning. Members of the community who have been integral to this work for years have taught me much about our progress as an institution. Students likewise have shared with me their past and present projects, interests and dreams for learning about sustainability and experimenting with new and traditional modes of addressing ecological problems locally and more broadly.

What personal experiences do you draw upon for this type of work?

My training has been in philosophical theology and ethics. I am currently working on a dissertation that considers ritual and sacramental traditions as modes of embodied pedagogy that we ought to constructively draw upon as we seek to form ourselves and our communities to meet the ethical challenges of the present moment, with a focus on anthropogenic climate change. This research and thinking definitely informs my work in the classroom, as well as how I inhabit this role. For instance, though climatic and environ-mental issues are daunting and seem so far beyond our individual control, I am committed to helping students recognize their own agency to address these problems. This commitment grounded my search for speakers who will come to campus to work with students on Climate Action Day.

Alongside my academic connection to this work, I love the outdoors. I grew up as a whitewater boater and was, for a time, a whitewater rafting guide in Colorado. One thing that I enjoy most about PEA is the accessibility of woodlands — I try to get out to them most days to walk my dogs. Being in the woods really transforms my day.

The curriculum is obviously a key component of this work. Tell us about the Green Umbrella Learning Lab course you taught this winter.

The course is designed as a project-based learning course focused on sustainability issues on campus, and, as such, it was student-driven in a mode quite unique from Harkness.

We began by engaging with staff, students and faculty to try to understand the issues on campus and then how to address those issues. While initial ideas ranged from aquaponics to a website or app to track emissions on campus and expanding composting, we eventually decided that we could make the most difference by focusing on both lighting and recycling in dorms. To that end the class designed a dorm event where they exchanged lightbulbs in dorm room lamps with more efficient LED bulbs and played an educational recycling game with students.

This course as it unfolded really leans into the best of PEA: It allows students to take the lead in addressing issues that matter to them and our community, and it enables them to teach their peers beyond the classroom space.

What are you really excited about?

 At present, I am most excited about the student projects that are in the works and that I have the joy of getting to support. There is currently a project on permaculture gardening in the planning phase, which will hopefully be planted on campus sometime this year. There is also a group of students working to establish a small aquaponics setup in the science building, which I think is quite exciting.

What are some short-term goals? 

I am aiming to garner a more robust grasp on the content regularly being taught across disciplines relating to sustainability, so I can assess what, if any, gaps are present. During this year, in part related to my work on the Curriculum Committee, I have been in conversation with scholars at Harvard and MIT who are innovators in sustainability education. Additionally, these conversations have focused on how we must adapt teaching in a time of climate crisis in order to equip students for success. Insights from these conversations have directly impacted my teaching. My hope is to bring these insights more formally to colleagues next year.

Do you find connections between your two roles, instructor and Sustainability Education Coordinator?

The connections between my work in religion, ethics and philosophy (REP) and that which I do as Sustainability Education Coordinator are many! Questions and ideas explored in REP are enormous questions about identity and purpose, meaning and values. The threats posed to human and other species’ populations, and the integrity of ecosystems, raise similarly powerful, existential questions. The ways we think about and live into addressing issues of sustainability are often, if not always, ethical. The frameworks and robust ethical assessment we teach in REP therefore directly relate to the work I do as sustainability coordinator. Further, the work in both positions demands the cultivation of imagination. To live sustainably in a rapidly changing (at times unpredictable) world requires that we creatively envision new possibilities for energy, transportation, infrastructure. Likewise, REP classes often work to equip students with skills to exercise their imaginations in relation to the powerful visions of the future that we all are fed by various media, religions and cultures to create the kind of future that they truly desire.  

This interview first appeared in the Spring 2024 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.

Art & Agency

Rufi Thorpe is on a roll. Her 2014 debut novel, The Girls from Corona Del Mar, was longlisted for the International Dylan Thomas Prize and the Flaherty-Dunnan First Novel Prize. Her 2016 novel, Dear Fang, With Love, was followed in 2020 by The Knockout Queen, a finalist for the PEN/Faulkner Award. Her latest, Margo’s Got Money Troubles, seems poised to be a summer hit, popping up on must-read lists as well as generating additional buzz: an Apple TV series is in the works with Hollywood stars David E. Kelley, Nicole Kidman, and Elle and Dakota Fanning attached.

Thorpe’s new novel — about a young single mother, Margo, trying to make ends meet — is a thoroughly engaging story about the transformative power of love, art and humor. It’s also jam-packed with wacky characters and charming scenarios, including Margo’s former pro wrestling champion father, Jinx; collegial cosplay sex workers; and a gentle love affair conducted through writing. Canny references to cultural touchstones such as writers Neal Stephenson and William Gibson, viral social media and Lady and the Tramp keep the narrative fun, funny and flowing.

We caught up with Thorpe amid the flurry of prepublication commitments.

Who are you addressing in the book’s dedication, “For you”?

The reader. We’re all seeking human connection, and novels offer that. Growing up, books were where I found a place of feeling understood, feeling like there were other humans like me; loneliness was eased by communing with these minds of people that I had never met. That connection has been such a profoundly positive one in my own life, so this is my ode to those spaces.

You’re really good at eliciting human imperfections with empathy across an eclectic range of characters. Is that intentional?

Part of the reason I became a novelist is because I’m wildly in love with people. A subject I come back to over and over again is the impossibility of judgment: What do you do when people do bad things, especially people that you love? I return to that, as well as recognizing the inadequacy or ineffectiveness of punishment as a response. I think it’s combined with a sensibility that life either strikes you as funny or tragic, and it strikes me as funny. And people, even in the ways that they’re flawed, strike me as beautiful. I’m interested in moral grayness, that people are not all bad or all good. As a writer, it interests me to try and get that right.

Why did you choose to switch between the first person and third person, sometimes talking directly to the reader?

I’ve always written first-person but wanted to be the kind of writer who wrote in third person — it just seemed so elegant. At the beginning of this project, I thought this was going to be the book where I finally figured out third person. Then I realized, maybe this is the book where I investigate through the third and first person, and not one where I try for seamless illusion.

That technique almost becomes a narrative in itself.

I’m fascinated with narrative, and so much of this book is about creating your own narrative and persona. For her video work, Margo is creating her character, Hungry Ghost; Jinx has created his wrestling persona; and I, Rufi Thorpe, am putting on the Margo mask by writing in first person, engaging in that artifice creation. One of my ways into understanding character is impersonation. Both of my parents were actors and I did a lot of theater growing up; I did theater at Exeter.

Were you cast or crew at Exeter?

I worked in theater tech, building sets, and we were given so much freedom and autonomy. That’s where I learned to use power tools, which was a super-empowering skill. I always felt more comfortable with a circular saw than any boyfriend I ever had. I still apply that by refinishing furniture.

What are some other Exeter memories?

Exeter was really formative for me. I didn’t graduate — I wanted to do advanced English classes as an upper but wasn’t allowed, so I applied to college early. I did have wonderful English teachers, Nita Pettigrew and Rex McGuinn. They, and theater, were my happiest parts of Exeter. Also I took Russian with Inna Sysevich, the most wonderful, warm, kind, earthy woman I’ve ever known. I chose Russian out of sheer perversity. I liked the idea of learning another alphabet. Because of that, I’ve read a lot of Russian literature and that has had a lasting impact on me. Going to a place like Exeter, you’re thrust into adulthood: You’re navigating airports and layovers at 14, and it makes you feel like a citizen of the world. You’re managing a complex schedule, with lots of homework, and you have to figure all that out. That skill set me up to be successful in college, graduate school and the rest of my life.

Who are your influences as a writer?

A huge thing for me was realizing that I was a comedic writer. John Irving, another Exonian, was a big part of that for me, in terms of understanding the way that humor can act as a leavening agent to allow you to talk about really dark things in a way that’s tolerable. Also, the way he allows his obsessions to recur in different forms throughout his novels was a model. It can feel, after your first novel, like you have to invent a whole new self to write another book, like you’re supposed to do something completely different. But really, Irving is writing the same book over and over. He gave me permission to do that, to realize that it was okay for thematic obsessions to recur, as long as I was making them fresh and interesting and exploring new aspects or new combinations of those elements.

What do you think it takes to become a successful writer?

The most important thing is stubbornness. I sometimes call it “perversity of spirit.” The world is going to tell you, “No,” over and over. One of my M.F.A. professors told me I was never going to be a writer, that I didn’t have the talent. She offered to brainstorm other career options with me. I think she meant well, but I was devastated. I went home and cried and cried and cried. And then I thought: “Well, what am I going to do? Give up my life’s dream because this lady told me to? Obviously not!” I realized that I loved writing enough that I was willing to be the worst novelist. If there was even a hope that there was a place for me at that table, I would gladly be the worst one.

I read a lot of novels. You’re definitely not the worst one.

Well, the questions stopped being “Am I special? Am I talented? Am I brilliant?” That freed me artistically and psychologically. It takes time to get better at something; you’re never going to be good the first time you try. But novels are long — it takes a long time to get better at them. I think being stubborn and also not being super attached to being the best, that’s what ultimately will give you success.

Biohacks to learning anything faster

The world is now, more than ever, pulsating with information. Knowledge, one of the most powerful forms of currency, is free for the taking. However, the skill sets we need and the productive output required of us is also nothing like that of the previous generations. To keep up with the masses and even excel, we need to learn faster than ever before. The ability to learn faster is a mystery that many have attempted to crack. As we stand on the brink of a new era, the fusion of biology and technology gives great opportunities for accelerated acquisition of knowledge.

In order to optimize learning, an understanding of what learning is through a neurobiological lens would provide great insight. Any form of learning comes from the brain, more specifically, the strengthening or weakening of electrochemical signals between our neurons (a type of brain cell). The connections between neurons are known as synapses. And the changes in the strength of electrochemical signals between synapses is called synaptic plasticity.

Synaptic plasticity is the basis of learning and memory. Synaptic plasticity is a dynamic and adaptive process that allows the neural circuits in the brain to modify their activity in response to experience. When you are learning a new skill such as serving a volleyball, the neural pathways in your brain will fire and the shape of the neurons in your brain will change, allowing you to strengthen the signals sent to your brain when doing the right movement, and repetitions of the right movements eventually lead you to serve the ball consistently as there is a strong connection between the neurons that fire when you serve a ball.

Therefore, if we want to increase our learning abilities and learn faster, we should try to trigger a more plastic and malleable brain that will be willing to change its pathways in order to learn a new skill. Plasticity has been proven to be controlled by several chemicals in our brains, namely acetylcholine, epinephrine and dopamine. When those chemicals are released, the brain marks the event as “important” and “to edit” while most of the changes to the plasticity and shape of the connection between neurons happens during sleep. So how do we induce the release of acetylcholine, epinephrine and dopamine in large amounts while learning? Interestingly, the only condition needed to allow the brain to enter a plastic state is to make errors. Error provides a cue for frontal cortex networks to release those important learning chemicals. The more mistakes you make, the larger the dopamine release will be when you eventually do it right, hence making the brain more plastic and receptive for change and more prone to remember the right action/movement/answer.

Have you ever felt frustration every time you are struggling to learn a form of new knowledge but not getting it right consistently? Well, this happens due to the release of those important learning chemicals, which change the shape and plasticity of your brain. But the brain does not want to change its shape, hence the brain processes this large surge of chemicals as frustration. Every time you are failing to learn something and feeling frustrated, you are releasing chemicals that will make you succeed in learning this skill. In some ways, errors frame the brain to learn and absorb more information when you end up getting it right. The most efficient way to learn a skill fast is to maximize the amount of repetitions and fail as much as possible within a time period. Experiments have found that the brain will end up learning, figuring out and getting closer to the right answer if you have the intent of getting it right.

Another powerful tool is to react to this kind of frustration with happiness and pleasure. When we smile in the face of defeat, stress or struggle, we trick the brain to release dopamine (the neurotransmitter that guides pleasure and motivation but also helps in synaptic plasticity). Hence, we condition our brains to release dopamine when we are in the face of struggle and challenge. Next time you end up facing a challenge or having to learn something new, your brain will naturally release more dopamine and allow your brain to learn faster due to increased plasticity.

A third extremely important factor in learning is to allow your brain to absorb the information. After performing any intensive learning, whether it is studying for a test or learning to execute a backflip, taking a break of five to 10 minutes without engaging your brain with another form of stimulus allows the sequence of information learned to be replayed by your brain, which then selects the series of events in which there is a high release of neurotransmitters. The things you did well repeat and the things you did wrong get cut off, allowing you to acquire and process the information learned faster.

A fast-paced world, a fast-paced school and a fast-paced lifestyle push us to learn everything faster and to execute tasks at high efficiency. Fortunately, advances in our understanding of neuroscience allow us to develop behavioral ways to learn and absorb knowledge faster than the average person. Sometimes the difference between two very competent candidates with equal willingness to work is “talent”— an intangible that makes someone a faster learner and better performer. Well, why not try out these newly acquired “talents” of yours?

Goodbye with gratitude

Exeter Deconstructed: The Shakespeare Folios

With nearly 400,000 books in its collection, the Class of 1945 Library boasts a trove of literary treasures. But some books stand out.

The library is the grateful steward of two folios of William Shakespeare’s printed works: the second, which dates to 1632, and the fourth, which was published in 1685.

“The story of Shakespeare’s remarkable rise to global prominence begins with his promotion in the 17th century in a series of large, handsome folio volumes,” writes Lara Bovilsky, associate professor of English at the University of Oregon. “‘Folio’ was the name of the largest books in this period.  Due to their size, cost and careful printing, folios were the 17th century’s most prestigious format. They marked their author and contents as important.”

The second folio was printed 16 years after Shakespeare’s death. Of the roughly 1,000 copies of the second folio printed, about 200 are still known to exist. Exeter’s edition was a gift of the Rev. Rip Noble ’58, who told The Exeter Bulletin in 2008 that he was inspired to make his generous donation in gratitude to his Academy English teachers “who taught me to love and respect the English language.”

The folio had belonged to Noble’s grandmother. “My grandmother let me pick a book from her collection for every birthday and graduation,” Noble explained. Following Exeter, he went on to Princeton and to Union Theological Seminary. “I picked it when I graduated from seminary. I was thinking of Exeter and those teachers when I selected it.”

Editor’s note: This pieces was first published in the Summer 2024 issue of The Exeter Bulletin.

Teri and Duane Silvestri: Serving Exeter with pride

Lou who? How Kahn came to design the Academy library

Exeter Deconstructed: Eno bricks