In my sophomore year of high school, way back in 2016, I decided to take AP Statistics. I wanted to prove that I could succeed in an advanced STEM course and was not just a humanities nerd but there was just one problem: I hated math. The year started and my frustration almost got the best of me but I was hanging in there… There also happened to be a REALLY cute senior boy in my class who was SO smart and he was MY desk partner, so that helped. By about November, I decided that being an incredible statistician was no longer my passion project and I switched over to Plan B: make this cute boy notice me. I truly was head over heels, so much so that I unknowingly talked to my family about the “super smart senior boy in my stats class” at the dinner table often. The spring semester started and I was yelling this cute boy’s name across Pennington’s campus just to say hi and I eventually got his phone number under the guise I needed help with stats (which I did but that was another problem). One February night I texted him asking for help and he responded with such a detailed answer there was no way he thought I was looking for an excuse to talk. I actually had already done the problem (and gotten it right for once) so I told him that was all the help I needed and wanted to know about his day! We talked that night, the night after, the night after that, not the night after that (I wanted him to text first but he didn’t), and then every day after… While I learned almost nothing in AP Statistics, I know I met the love of my life with 100% certainty.

I knew for a long time that I wanted to propose to Emma at Pennington’s homecoming. I spent weeks trying to come up with a proposal idea, talking with Pennington’s alumni office, and reworking the proposal until everything seemed just right. In the days leading up to the proposal, I worried about every little detail. Would Emma know it would be at homecoming? How would I hide the ring all day? Could myself and everyone involved keep it a secret all day? After hours of homecoming events, the time arrived. I sneakily put the ring in my back pocket, just as Emma and others walked on the football field during halftime for a “field hockey alumni tribute.” Shortly after they walked onto the field, I followed. I worried about every little detail—my stride length, my posture, my cadence, my facial expression—everything. Then Emma saw me, and I could tell that she knew what I was doing. My excitement began to overpower my nerves. I told her how much I love her, and got down on one knee. The rest was pure joy.