Matthew Trammell '09

It is absolutely surreal that we are finally here. Throughout my time at Milton, I’ve never had a sense of the experience being finite; it always seemed like there would be another year with more games, more classes and more moments. I still, at this moment, can’t imagine not moving back into Forbes next year, and instead walking into some large, cold, freshman complex with no dorm photos lining the walls or chalkboard with hilarious inside jokes.

Thinking back to my time at Milton, I am amazed at how much I’ve actually learned. So much more teaching and learning occurs at Milton than what happens in the classroom, and it’s crazy to think about all the knowledge I’ve acquired in my time here. Freshman year I learned what bubble tea was. I learned that a huge portion of Koreans love and make hip-hop music. I learned that there were sports called squash and lacrosse, and I learned what it meant to call “fives” on a seat. (All my experiences in Brooklyn up until then had taught me that if someone is sitting in the seat you were in, all you say is “get up”.) Sophomore year, I learned that Mr. Fricke is a legend. I learned how to make movies, and how to start Milton Academy’s most influential boyband ever. I learned how to use a penny in the laundry machine as a quarter and do loads for five cents. I learned what a panini was and how to make one, and I learned from Abe Freidin that cows out-number people in Vermont. Junior year, I learned what hell is like. It’s pretty bad. I learned from my first season of Darling’s what fast twitch and slow twitch muscles were, and that I had neither; instead I had lazy ones. I learned how to play Guitar Hero, and subsequently how to go days without food, sleep or sunlight. I learned at JLW what it was like to be the first person to run full speed ahead into a freezing lake in nothing but trunks. And this year, I learned CPR with Ben Don and Vanya Stokes, and I now know to always do 30 compressions before two breaths after re-tilting the head of an unconscious adult with no severe bleeding. I learned that Milton Academy football rules, especially Dan Kenerson, the best receiver on the planet. I learned how to juggle three objects, which I’ve been trying to do for literally 15 years. I learned that in England they are called “ladybirds” instead of “ladybugs” and that it’s especially funny when they pee in peoples’ hands. I learned that when driving during snowy conditions in the winter, if something on the road is black, shiny, and isn’t Mr. Heard, I should avoid it. I learned that Douglon Tse can pull off anything his brain can possibly conceive, and that he is just a little bit insane. (It is largely because of Dougan Khim’s talking him out of it that there isn’t a plane sitting on the Quad right now). And finally, I learned that I was a part of the most fantastic class this school has ever seen.

This was a long list, and all these learning experiences have rendered me pretty knowledgeable, but one of the most important lessons I’ve ever learned came way before I got to Milton. My dad taught me how to ride a bike when I was about eight years old. I had the sickest Batman bike with purple spokes and the logo on the handlebars, and it was time for me to be able to style on Rutland Road without training wheels. So we threw my bike in the trunk and he drove me down to the Sears parking lot (the closest thing to a driveway there is in Flatbush, Brooklyn). I am proud to say that I didn’t fall once, not because I learned quickly, but because I was so scared of falling that I barely ever peddled, and if I did it was with one foot an inch away from the ground. I kept on with this pathetic routine for about two hours, creeping along two feet at a time and stopping whenever I thought something was going wrong. My dad offered encouragement, but at the same time must have been amazed that his son could be this uncoordinated. Suddenly, after studying my technique, or lack thereof, he realized what the issue was. “Stop looking down at the front wheel,” he said. At first I didn’t know what he meant, but then realized that I had been instinctually staring down past the Batman logo’d handlebars to the front tire of my bike, obsessively trying to keep it straight. He walked a couple of feet away from me and said “look straight ahead at me, don’t look down at the bike. Just ride it.” I thought to myself, “this man must be out of his mind—how will I know when I’m about to fall?” I looked up at him hesitantly, pushed off and started to pedal, and just as my eyes snapped back down to my front wheel, I immediately crumpled into myself, hitting the pavement hard. “He’s just trying to amuse himself at this point,” I thought of my dad. “He’ll probably tell me to look directly at the sun next.” But he helped me up and told me again to focus straight ahead, and not to look down at the wheel. I pushed off again, and this time followed his advice, aggressively forcing myself not look up. As I sat on the bike, waiting for my eyes to snap down as soon as I felt a subtle wobble, I realized that I was actually riding it, and I started screaming at the top of my lungs in excitement and horror.

Later that year, I was riding down my block with the confidence and swag of a veteran bike rider. I knew that I was varsity and that that sidewalk was mine. I had spent the past summer speeding over each crack and bump; nothing could stop me. I saw a girl walking across the street and, in true Matthew fashion, I decided I had to impress her. I started peddling as fast as I possibly could, sure that her seeing me fly down the street would send her into a frenzy of prepubescent infatuation. Also in true Matthew fashion, I was wearing a hat at the time, and it started to slip off my head in the wind. Without thinking about how I didn’t know how to ride my bike with only one hand, I let go of a handlebar to pull my cap back down, and veered left, crashing into one of the large flower bins that lined my block. I flew into the air, as did the pot, and after I flipped and landed on my back, it flipped and landed over my head, dumping soil all over me. I lay there until my dad came and helped me up, and knowing his son, he laughed and said, “Trying to impress that girl? You should have looked at your front wheel.”

I share these stories to share a mentality I’ve tried to hold onto since I was eight years old. I think that we are always learning, even the things that we already know. I learned to ride a bike when my dad taught me, and when I crashed that day, and every other time I’ve fallen, and every time I’ve ever sat on a bike altogether. People always say, “It’s like riding a bike; once you learn you never forget.” But I say that it’s not that we never forget how to ride, it’s that we never forget how to learn. Our confidence assures us that we have been successful in the past, but cannot promise that we will be in the future, and each attempt is just that, an attempt, as success can only be found in hindsight. Here at Milton, we have spent the past two, four, six or 13 years learning and relearning and relearning how to ride our bikes, trying our best to focus straight ahead. And here we are, confident, excited, and in control of the streets we’ve been riding on. This next step is our girl, or guy, across the street. It’ll take determination, skill, self-assurance and inner strength to keep our heads focused forward, but I speak from experience when I say don’t be afraid to take a second to glance down at your front wheel. That pause, that moment of introspection, that quick peek at who we are, what we’ve done, and what we hope to do, could mean the difference between us moving forward and us veering off, or even worst, crashing.

To those not graduating today, I say keep peddling. Milton is a fantastic block to practice on. Whatever your passion is, try your best to hold onto it and advance, focusing on what’s ahead of you instead of what you’ve already done. And to ’09, I am incredibly fortunate to say that Sarah learned how to paint,  JScott learned how to run, Samara Oster learned how to sing, Connor learned how to eat, John Hayden learned how to dance, Sam Pearce learned how to throw disc, Gemma learned how to scream, Dan Reynolds learned how to tech, Emrob learned how to handstand, Noah Berman learned how to act, Genevieve learned how to drive, Ben N-H learned how to play, Isa learned how to pitch, Hunnewell learned how to serve, Brightman learned how to write, Mike Lee learned how to invest, Mercedes learned how to rash, and Chloe learned how to speak all in the same place that I learned how to ride a bike. Thank you.

[Back to Graduation 2009]