Knowing A Place | 91��ý

What does academic rigor really mean? Thoughts on challenge and necessity

Zac Hewitt — Tue, 18 Aug 2026 22:00:58 +0000

by Alex Myers, Director

I find it challenging to describe academics at 91��ý. Typically, the word that’s been deployed is “rigorous.” We are a school with academic rigor. I’ve never particularly liked this descriptor – perhaps in part because the only other context in which I think of the word rigor is “rigor mortis.” And, maybe unfairly, I associate those two instances of rigor. Academic rigor makes me think of stiffness, of calcification, of the canon (and nothing but)… and that’s not 91��ý.

Yet, I want to lay claim to the idea that “academic rigor” reaches for: the sense that academics are present, challenging, engaging, necessary, and more.

The word I want to use is demanding. I like its Latin roots, in particular that it means to ask. Academics at 91��ý are demanding; they ask of students to listen up, to speak back, to think deeply, to write and revise, to go for a long walk to figure it out.

To be fair, rigor applies to 91��ý as well, but maybe not as much in academics as in other places. We are stiff about getting up in the morning, rigid in the expectation that you will do the dishes. Unmovable in getting out to work on the farm, rain or shine.

A day at 91��ý makes you tired – that’s because of the rigor. A day at 91��ý makes you energized – that’s because of the demand. By dorm check-in, you are exhausted and also buzzing with ideas.

The conflict I feel over the word rigor extends farther into the question of how we explain 91��ý to prospective students and their families. I hear students say: I came to 91��ý because I wanted to take a break. That doesn’t sound like rigor; it sounds like being on vacation.

But 91��ý is a break – it isn’t a schedule packed with athletics and music groups and clubs and tutoring. It isn’t a constant barrage of social media and advertising. It isn’t streets teeming with strangers or lunch with the same group of friends who have known you for years. It is something entirely else. So, yes, it is taking a break. But break as in a fissure; 91��ý is disruptive.

I think that this disruption is crucial to the type of rigor you find at 91��ý. In part, our program is demanding because it is unfamiliar. Students are used to “the grind” – even if they don’t like it, they are conditioned to submit themselves to it, to grind themselves to dust in order to achieve the positions, grades, and placements that they have been told will mark them as successful (or, worse, as good enough).

When students are removed from this structure – when the grindstones stop spinning – and arrive at 91��ý, there follows a period of utter disorientation. They are asked to do things that they have never done before (split wood), or things that they consider beneath them (sweep a floor), or things that they feel are disgusting (shovel compost), and they are shown that these tasks are necessary, needed, and must be done by them and done well.

Soon, a new structure comes into place.

But unlike the grind, it is a structure that they build. We give them the blocks with which to build, but they put it together. That is 91��ý’s version of rigor – firm expectations, challenges that are physical and communal as well as intellectual, demands with tangible outcomes that are relied upon by others.

Another way to put it: there’s a shorter vista here. The program is only four months, but that’s not exactly what I mean. The rigor – the demand – of this place comes from the end line being discernible.

The grind focuses on college, on career, on a sort of outcome one can never truly touch.

91��ý focuses on today. There is this dish crew. There is this discussion. There is that crop to harvest. It must be done, and done well, and done right now. We are school of intimacy and immediacy. Not hurried, not a rush. But here in the present moment. No interface of screens, no working towards next year. That shorter frame makes 91��ý more insistent.

So, yes, rigor is a word that applies to 91��ý. But, like many things here, it can’t be deployed without examination and explanation. Rigor with a footnote. Rigor with an asterisk. Rigor with a shape molded by the farm, the forest, the kitchen, and the all-abiding present moment, as much as by any book, paper, exam, or classroom.

Learn more about experiential academics.

Learn more about the essential co-curricular programming.

Learn more about the philosophy of shared labor.

91��ý Announces Inaugural Director of Development

Zac Hewitt — Mon, 06 Jul 2026 22:00:13 +0000

91��ý is pleased to announce the appointment of Chris Lauricella as the School’s inaugural Director of Development, beginning July 1, 2026.

For many who attended 91��ý, the experience defies easy description. A semester on 418 acres in Vershire, Vermont – farming, studying, building, cooking, and living in genuine community – has a way of clarifying what matters. Alumni from the School's earliest years and students of recent semesters use different words to describe the experience, but they arrive at the same conclusion: something fundamental changed during their time here, and stayed with them.

Since its founding in 1984, 91��ý has cultivated that kind of transformation through farm-based work, outdoor learning, authentic scholarship, and shared residential life. As interest in experiential and place-based education continues to grow, the School is investing in the relationships, programs, and systems needed to sustain and strengthen its mission for decades to come.

The creation of the Director of Development role marks an important step in that evolution. The position reflects 91��ý's commitment to strengthening philanthropy, deepening engagement, and building the resources that will sustain the School's mission well into the future.

Chris will lead the School's advancement efforts by strengthening connections with alumni, parents, grandparents, and friends while expanding philanthropic support for priorities including financial aid, campus stewardship, and long-term institutional sustainability. Strong philanthropic support will help ensure that future students continue to benefit from the distinctive educational experience that has defined 91��ý for more than four decades.

"Chris's appointment comes at an important moment for 91��ý," said Alex Myers, Director of 91��ý. "His experience has given him a deep understanding of strategic leadership, relationship-building, and mission-driven schools. He has led institutions through meaningful periods of growth and transformation while remaining grounded in mission. Just as importantly, he understands the distinctive power of 91��ý experience and how to help people move from loving this place to investing in its future."

Lauricella joins 91��ý following 18 years as an independent school head, most recently at Albany Academy in Albany, New York, where he led strategic initiatives, major fundraising efforts, and institutional change. Throughout his career, he has helped schools build philanthropic programs grounded in trust, participation, and shared purpose.

"I was drawn to 91��ý and the power of its mission," said Lauricella. "People consistently describe their time here as transformative, and I am excited to help strengthen the School by deepening our philanthropic culture and inviting more members of the community to invest in this extraordinary work. To me, advancing the School is ultimately about relationships, engagement, and a shared belief in the life-changing experience it provides."

In the coming months, Lauricella will begin meeting with alumni, parents, grandparents, and friends of the School to listen, learn, and discuss 91��ý's future ambitions.

"As we look ahead, philanthropy will play an increasingly important role in ensuring that 91��ý remains accessible, resilient, and sustainable," Myers added. "We are excited for Chris to help lead that work in partnership with our community."

Alumni, parents, and friends of the School will have opportunities to meet Lauricella during reunions, campus events, and community conversations throughout the coming year.

Reflections on the S26 Semester

Zac Hewitt — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 16:01:51 +0000

Spring 2026 students headed home at the end of May, marking the 41st year of 91��ý. The closing days of Spring Semester are always filled with a joy and excitement that matches the rapidly greening landscape and new life in the sheep barn and in the plants breaking through the soil on Garden Hill.

In the final few days, we take time to reflect on the semester and ask students to think deeply about their time at 91��ý.

“Have I changed? If so, what has changed?”

“What will I carry forward when I return home? What will I leave behind?”

“What am I excited to return to?”

“How will I share this experience? What does it mean to be part of a community, both distant and near?”

After students celebrated with prom, their 10-year time capsule, and a final camp out on Garden Hill, each one shared one final reflection with the whole community, standing in front of their peers and teachers for the last time. Students shared stories of friendships, growth, renewed energy and excitement for learning, and the occasional mishap on Solo or the farm.

Excerpted below are twelve highlights from the semester reflections of Spring 2026, in students’ own words:

“At Mountain School, the idea of comfort has become less about whether I have a thousand mosquito bites or working outside in the rain. Instead, comfort has become more synonymous with safety. I would lie in an awkward position that hurts my neck on the Dining Hall floor for hours just to listen to people sing or talk about themselves because, even if I was physically uncomfortable, I still felt safe.”

“The inchworm is cute, but the fly contributes so much more to its ecosystem. What factors invalidate the lives of certain organisms, simply because they are a nuisance to us humans? I think to some extent, my view of conceptions and expectations such as those of the fly and the inchworm have changed from being at 91��ý. First coming into TMS, I had a ton of expectations for how my semester was going to be. I was going to come here, totally change as a person, and go home. However, that wasn’t exactly linear, and I don’t know to what extent I have changed. Each factor of my experience has given me a lesson that hasn’t necessarily changed my values or who I am as a person, but has given me insight into the possibility of my own actions.”

“Before I came here, it was incredibly easy for me to overlook life, live it through routines, and ignore what was around me. But I am so grateful that I get to say that this has changed. By being in this environment, doing farm work, seeing the animals, and living with people who are experiencing TMS at the same time as me, I started to appreciate things I used to overlook. Life is so short and moves fast, but it is also so incredibly worthy. TMS reminded me of that. I have met so many amazing people here who have changed the way I look at the world, I have done things I had never imagined myself doing, and I have learned how to live and love even when it's challenging. I especially learned that even after hardship, there is still so much life that is waiting to be lived.”

“So, what I learned here is that the people you surround yourself with really affect you and the mood of your life, so in the future I need to find more people like the people here. The other thing I really like about this school is the teachers. This was my first time going to such a small school where I felt like the teachers actually cared about what they were teaching and cared whether I paid attention or not. I’ve learned the most I've ever learned here, and actually enjoyed my classes.”

“TMS is a community that has taught me to determine for myself what has the most value. I’ve had a lot of discussions here in class and everywhere else on this farm about things like paradigms and how intrinsic value is subjective and not always matched by the value society as a whole places on something. That’s probably how I not only learned, but allowed myself to full-heartedly believe, that having fun and making memories is as valuable and important as the work we do here to learn about our food systems or the landmarks of our place.”

“91��ý is a community, and it is a place to build community. Knowing a community and knowing a place means knowing the people within. And to know people you have to understand who they are, what their culture is. Culture: most beautifully and abundantly expressed through food and music. My music taste has only expanded since coming to this school, my tastes have diversified, and for that I am forever grateful. 91��ý has been great, but, to quote Tom Petty, ‘It’s time to move on.’”

“I think this is one of the greatest gifts 91��ý has given me, to have people in my life who care enough to stay well past when they have to, and who go out of their way to make my life feel safer.”

“Thank you for challenging me when I least expect it, and especially in the first few weeks, because it showed me that feeling so much love and security for a place does not come from a relationship that has always been easy. Thank you for introducing me to people I will admire for a lifetime. Here I have met people whose outlooks on life, and whose mindsets, have blown me away. Their attitudes and the way they carry themselves with natural confidence and individuality is infectious and it has inspired me when I have thought it impossible. I have felt comfort with the adults here that I also did not think was possible to feel at a school, and I think every teacher deserves an award for making us all feel truly seen and heard.”

“While being here very small rituals developed and grew into anchors. Seeing the light on the canopy as I walked to breakfast, the quiet movement of Conard waking up, seeing the sun setting in Elm as the school day winded to an end. Those repetitions nudged me to stop listening to distractions and start listening to the world, and the only thing I regret is how long it took me to notice. Repetition also taught me to embrace the unexpected. Weather and circumstance rerouted plans more often than not, but those limits felt clarifying rather than confining. When a storm canceled a trip to Back Brook or I took a wrong trail that seemed to lead to someone else’s property, the response was rarely panic; it was a reorientation and a collective improvisation that could still be appreciated.”

“I still don’t fully know why I applied to TMS when I had no interest in nature, and especially not farming, but I’m really glad I did. Being here pushed me into experiences I normally would've avoided, like camping, eating outside, and even playing basketball. Now that I’m getting ready to go home, I keep thinking about how different my life there feels from the one I’ve lived here surrounded by nature for months. But I don’t want to lose the version of myself I found at TMS. When I go back home, I want to keep spending time outside, go to parks more often, play sports, and visit the swamps I used to ignore.”

“I came here with a somewhat corny sense of nihilism toward others and thought my friend group would be enough for me, but I’ve discovered the joy of connecting with people I normally wouldn’t. I believed that I could stay coddled by a school system that only focused on shoving as much info into me without making any effort. My school years flew by in a grey slush of information coming and going. I don’t have one specific moment that truly “made” my TMS experience; instead, it was the people I learned to connect with here, whom I normally wouldn’t have even talked to. I stepped out of my bubble and learned how much more the world has to offer me. Every single person has a unique perspective and experiences that they bring, and if I truly want to grow and survive in our world, I need to be willing to listen.”

“So maybe here is my big realization: if you ever feel like you’re stuck in a haze, or lost in a dream, or just not very present. Pack your bags and move to the middle of nowhere Vermont, where there isn’t even a weather signal, where the roads aren’t even paved, where you live on a farm that’s also a school, and some would maybe even say a cult. Shake up your life, do something crazy, create a bucket list, make a purpose for yourself, find your people, the ones who love you even at your lowest, the ones who come back and forgive you for making what feels like the biggest mistakes of your life, surround yourself with joy and with love, because when it’s time for you to wake up you’ll be astonished with how bright this world truly is, I’d even wager it’s gonna be pretty hard to get lost again.”

Now, with our newest group of alums returning to their home communities, the work of the summer begins: Garden Hill is turning greener, the sheep and cattle are rotating their way through grazing pasture, and we are planning for reunions, visiting schools, and getting ready for Fall 2026.

If you’d like to look back on Spring 2026, check out here.

Alumni, please share your own thoughts and reflections in the comments below!

ALUM PROFILES