Under the Willow Hill: a Personal Memoir

 

Ben V. Franchi

 

 

In the town of Sudbury, a little past Lincoln and nestled in the greener fields of Massachusetts, there lies a small school. The main building was originally built from a barnhouse, with additions planted side by side next to it when the school opens for business. Behind it lies an open field, and beyond that, a forest where trees mix in with the marshlands to create a mysterious sort of setting. The school runs from sixth grade to twelfth, and is home to a special kind of student body that wouldn’t quite fit in anywhere else. They are the kindest people you would ever meet, if not the brightest or the most socially fit. These people suffer from learning disabilities including ADHD, dyslexia and Asperger’s syndrome. This school is better known as Willow Hill, and was the place where I spent the first two years out of elementary school. It was this place that I came back from a brink, one of high self-loathing, low self-esteem, and painful self-awareness. During my time in elementary school, I was ostracised for my odd behavior, which led to several embarrassing meltdowns. I couldn’t control myself, no matter how hard I tried. Personal aid, therapy, friends, none of it worked. I was an outsider, and I was almost diagnosed with suicidal tendencies. At Willow Hill, this all changed. It was this place where, ironically enough, I learned the nuances of interacting with other people, and where I began to form an identity, a persona that would become one of many that I would develop over the years.

 

My reasons for going to Willow Hill were simple enough. My grades in elementary school were average at best, and I was terrible at interacting with other people. I would cry at silly things like getting my homework wrong, or I wouldn’t shut up about what fantasy I was imagining that day. I was averse to eye contact, freaked out in loud or crowded areas, and despised new or different environments. Willow Hill promised a kinder environment and understanding teachers. During my first year there, it was like coming out of a cave. I felt too afraid to face other people, like they would hurt me if I ever got too close. Soon I came to realize that these people going there were in the exact same situation as me, some even worse. None of them knew how to interact with people on a social level, only on a very personal one. With a student body around the 300 mark, it was easy for personal connections to be made. Going to school became less like a chore and more like an experience, learning how to make legitimate relationships alongside other people. Since none of us knew how to do it, we could all learn from each other, something the teachers tried to inspire from us as well.

 

In an interesting way, the persona that I developed at this school became the primary image I have worn throughout life, and ties into my personal identity through the mistakes that I made and that others made at the school, as well as my experiences in the acting programs the school presented. As I got older, I began to recognize my friends’ flaws and social flaws, and as such I grew a desire not to emulate or repeat their mistakes. For example, one time a student almost got another student hurt during a gym exercise, where he was supposed to catch him during a fall. The teacher got mad at this student, who just couldn't understand that what he had did was wrong, and that it could have lead to serious injury. This extreme unacceptance of reality bothered me when I came to recognize it. Also like me, they wouldn't know when to stop talking, mostly about their own interests, and they would emotionally shut down in stressful situation when it was not appropriate. My friend P.B. was one such student that I learned much from, as he couldn't handle anything outside of his very small comfort zone without screaming and shutting down. When I was taken out of the school after two years due to inadequate educational standards at the institution, I began to develop even faster. I could see how my friends were being left behind do to their personal issues, and this gave me a sort of perspective on them, which in turn gave me perspective on myself. It was like looking at a mirror image of what could have been me, and then taking the right steps to avoid becoming that image. The theater program, which was the highlight of the school's extracurricular standards, was also critical in understanding how to act as myself and come off as a normal human being. As I acted I found it more natural to sink into roles than be myself, and as such began to recognize my personal identity as a sort of act in itself; something that is projected outwards for other people to interact with instead of the awkward, afraid version of myself that they would normally get.

 

My experiences at Willow Hill shape who I am today through the many events that took place there among friends. One such event was a frisbee tournament I participated in. On that cool, sunny day, I was just an onlooker talking to my friends about trivial things such as teachers and games, and one of the teams announced to the crowd that they needed more guys, I simply raised my hand and joined in. As I grew to become more friendly with people there, I grew more outgoing in my personality. It was due to this that I was able to gain the courage to participate in the theater program there. I also gained a sense of protection for my fellow students, which in turn mellowed out as time passed. Not all the students there were good people, and those that were not would often take it upon themselves to torment the less bold or more self-conscious. There were kids like Jacobs or P.B., kids who had not a single aggressive bone in their body. There was Eberhardt, Charlie, Jake, and Sam, all of whoses interests made them less than respected among the other students. And there was me, dressed funny, too loud, and trying painfully hard to recognize when I made mistakes. We were all prime targets for the less amicable members of the student body. One such person took it upon herself to make fun of the mental disabilities of some of the other students, calling them "retarded" to their faces. After being bullied myself, I decided to take a stand against those doing so, at one point taking it upon myself (quite recklessly, in hindsight) to stand against said bully and call her "an embarrassment" for her actions. Another time, I got angry at some students for showing me rude gestures, and retaliating in kind. In turn, I got myself in trouble more than once. As such, I began to tone down my efforts and become a more passive intervener in conflict rather than a direct and damaging one. I tried to help my friends with their issues by talking to them about how they could solve them rather than going after the source of their issues. For example, one time I helped my friend Eberhardt calm down when he wanted to hurt someone who had mocked his heritage. He had been called a “Nazi” by a rude student and wanted to beat the girl’s head in. That day, during our free period, I sat him down during lunch and explained to him that beating someone up for calling him names was not worth it in the long run, and it would only get him in trouble. After some hesitation, he came to understand my point, which was amazing considering how oblivious he was to most things. We then proceeded to bond over Hot Pockets. I also tried to keep my friends from having meltdowns during stressful times, such as the school play of Newsies. My friend Jacobs was very stressed out, as it was his first time acting. He kept messing up his lines, which would make him emotionally shut down. So, the night before the performance, I brought him out for some pizza and told him that I was as nervous as he was, and that for someone as experienced in theater at that point, nervousness was merely natural. I also defused a situation with some of the other actors who wanted another actor kicked out by explaining that it would cripple the show if we got rid of him so far into production. I gathered them all together one Friday afternoon, when the students would be released early, and spoke to them in private. I remember telling them how I hated the kid as much as they did, and how they smiled in approval when I made my point clear, as if something had clicked in their heads.  As for how my memories of Willow Hill make me who I am, I suppose that the answer lies in its nostalgic value. Looking back, I did a lot of stupid stuff there, but I also had a lot of fun times as well. Remembering those dumb moments and those fun moments helps keep me in perspective. It reminds me that it’s OK to make mistakes, and that it’s part of learning and developing. Not only that, but without making mistakes, I wouldn’t have the fun memories that makes the experience seem worthwhile.

 

My experiences recounting this story have brought me to think about where the call to write comes from. While the call might be different for some people, I find that for me, it lies in a need to tell about my experiences. My time at Willow Hill brought me some of the strongest memories that I can remember. I’ve always had a fear of changing beyond what I know, turning into someone other than the me I recognize through my experiences. But I can safely say that my time at Willow Hill has instilled unchanging truths about myself. Cultural significance is debatable for me, I’ve never identified with one culture or another. But my experiences will always stay with me, until they fade with time and age. But as long as I can will it, I will never forget my time at Willow Hill, and how it shaped my perspective on myself and the world around me.

A bit about Ben 

 

Ben V. Franchi is an up-and-coming freshman entering the field of Visual Media Arts. He is an active student who enjoys writing, improvisational comedy, exploring Boston, and classic American eats. Franchi hopes to find a career in writing for children’s television, and derives inspiration from both his own experiences and popular television such as Gravity Falls and Kamen Rider. Franchi has a long history in community theater and artistic writing, and has also been involved in various character roles in multiple student films while at Emerson, including Old Friends, Elf-Esteem, and Writing for Purgatory. He was a supporting actor in the short film Bucket, which won first place in the Emerson 48-Hour Film Festival. He has recently finished his first screenplay, The Adventures of Roy Eaglelander, Defective Detective in: File Not Found, and is looking to have it in production soon. As of this bio, he is working on a Lovecraftian office comedy, currently untitled. His favorite food is the humble Cuban sandwich.