Editor's Column by Carolyn Stent Perhaps you imagine lines of little children in drab uniforms....

Back to Table of Contents | Back to Main Index Previous Editor's Columns | Send mail to The Voice Boarding school unlike the movies When I tell you I grew up in a missionary boarding school, you probably will feel sorry for me. Perhaps you imagine lines of little children in drab uniforms under the strict discipline of a matron. "How cruel," you might think. "I could never do that to my children." However, the image many people think of when they hear the words "boarding school" does not resemble my experience. I joined my older brother and sister at Murree Christian School in Pakistan when I was 6 years old. Twelve years and many memories later, I graduated with some of the same students I started with in first grade. Murree Christian School sits between two mountain ridges in the foothills of the Himalayan mountains. On a clear spring day, I could see several rows of snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance. I still miss the pine trees, the crisp air, and the terrific monsoon storms punctuated by booming thunder and startling flashes of lightning. Rhesus monkeys often visited our school in packs, foraging for food. According to unspoken tradition, while in elementary school I chose one of the high school students and asked her to be my "big boarding sister." Pauline had curly brown hair and a wide smile. She sometimes gave me small gifts, such as a mug full of candy. At other times she just listened to me talk about my day. My friends and I rarely ran out of things to do. Behind the dormitory building, a clearing with playground equipment gave way to pine forest. Here I played Care Bears and My Little Ponies with my friends. Weekday nights, we gathered on the basketball court for the "games on the court" a staff member organized. We collected ladybugs in jars and made daisy chains. In high school the student government organized weekend activities such as capture the flag or water fights. Twice a year we stayed in a guest house and swam in the nearby reservoir. I played field hockey and soccer, competing against international schools from around South Asia. I forged closer friendships with my dearest friends and learned how to live with anyone. One night our houseparent woke us and asked us to gather in a lounge downstairs. Half asleep, we staggered down the stairs and discovered she had bought chicken tikkas for us all. These are like spicy barbecued chicken. This same houseparent mentored me closely through Bible studies, evening devotions and conversations over mugs of coffee. She remains one of my dear friends. I have not forgotten the nights I cried into my pillow. Sometimes I wanted to escape the rules and structure. I wanted to escape from people but had no place to go. I waited eagerly for hand-written cards from my Mom or typed letters from my Dad. I missed my cat. I watched other students tease my older brother. I longed for a phone call from home. Inevitably these memories have faded. But the people and relationships haven't. I enjoyed friendships with teachers and staff from Scotland, New Zealand, Australia, the United States, Canada, England, Finland and Sweden. I still keep in touch with some of these people. When I graduated in 1998, our class of 18 represented 10 nationalities. I miss each one of these people. I learned from them about the countries and cultures of the world. With them I learned about life. Clearly, the family is God's ideal. However, boarding school is not at the other end of the spectrum. As a girl in a Moslem society, I experienced freedom and opportunities at boarding school I wouldn't have enjoyed where my parents worked. In many ways, I compare growing up in the family at Murree Christian School with belonging to the family of Christ. I thank God for the friendships, experiences and unique memories I treasure from boarding school and for how these molded me into the person I am today. Back to Table of Contents | Back to Main Index Previous Editor's Columns | Top Of Page Send mail to The Voice| Journalism department website © 2001 The Voice. No part of this publication may be reproduced in written or electronic form without prior written consent from the journalism adviser of Multnomah Bible College. All rights reserved.