Victoria Marchiony
Humor Editor

After three years of cozy, broken down classrooms, inconsistent heating, a too-small locker in the basement, and the treacherous outdoor campus, I became more than just accustomed to the quirks of old Harriton. I became attached.
Similar to the little sibling that you make fun of but secretly love with all your heart, there was something undeniably charming about being in a school with history. While Mr. Schwartz’s physics room held twenty-year-old piles of books on (or behind) shelves, the theater boasted graffiti from generations of alumni. The old Harriton was run down, behind the times, and in need of something… new and improved. However, though the new building is equipped with everything its students will ever need to succeed – from laptops, to art studios, to huge science closets with refrigerators and fume hoods – it was evident to me from the moment I entered it that something was missing. Even with the vast quantities of goodies that have been handed to us, I fear that something essential has been taken away. The idea of the Harriton community that grew from the shared affection for missing toilets and the inability to get to class on time in the snow has disappeared – only to be replaced by a perfectly sterile new building. The sense of home and community that I cherished for three years is a thing of the past, and now I feel like a foreigner on a High School Musical set. Rooms are enormous and freakishly clean. This school feels like a combination of every awkward public setting there is; with wide, hospital-like hallways and door-less, automated bathrooms that I’ve only ever seen in airports. Even more than personal discomfort, I have seen a marked change in the relationships and interactions of the Harriton community.
The old Harriton was homey, and this comfort allowed the students and teachers to interact on (what I think was) a more personal level. Now teachers are obligated to keep their large rooms sparkling clean by enforcing rules like ‘no eating’, which creates an awkward, professional barrier between students and teachers. As far as students relate to each other, it seems like as soon as we walked onto the High school musical esque set we decided it was time to play into every clique driven stereotype that lifetime and Disney channel ever pumped out. Instead of kids relating to each other on a personal level, we move in groups, clinging to the comfort of surrounding ourselves with people as we walk through the building where we know if we are alone, it is very likely we won’t be able to find anyone for a while. The idea of separation, cliques, isolation and all the typical high school stereotypes is more pronounced now than ever, almost as though the new box of a building is locking us into social boxes of our own.
Regardless, none of this will be of my concern as of next year. All I can say is that I hope the closeness and comfort of old Harriton has not been lost forever, but merely misplaced the transition. Hopefully, it will be born anew in years to come.