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When I first arrived at St. Michaels University School (SMUS), I was struck by how alive the place felt. It wasn’t just the green lawns, heritage buildings, or the ocean breeze sneaking through the halls, it was the students themselves. Everyone carried this energy, like they knew they were part of something bigger than themselves. For me, SMUS wasn’t just a school; it was a launchpad, and every class, activity, and late night dorm conversation added another layer to who I was becoming.

The best thing that happened to me at SMUS was realizing how much I could grow when I stopped holding back. Running in city finals, joining clubs I never thought I’d try, even daring to stand up in debate competitions, I came out of SMUS with a stronger sense of self. The school taught me resilience, curiosity, and courage. When I got to Uni I ended up studying abroad in 13 countries.

If I could rewind, I’d spend more time just enjoying the little things more like late-night talks in the dorms, coffee runs after practice, or even just hanging out on campus without rushing to the next thing. I was always focused on the big goals, but some of my favorite memories came from the quieter moments. My advice is don’t treat boarding school like a checklist. Let yourself slow down sometimes, because those small, everyday moments with friends are what you’ll miss the most once you’ve graduated.

Looking back, SMUS gave me more than preparation for university as it gave me a foundation for life. It’s where I learned that success isn’t just medals, grades, or titles; it’s about community, effort, and finding joy in the process.

If you’re coming to SMUS, take risks. Join the activity you know nothing about. Talk to the person you might not usually approach. Watch the sunset from the art studio window—it’s a view you’ll never forget. And most importantly, let yourself be present. You’ll leave with more than knowledge—you’ll leave with memories that will shape you for years to come.

SMUS academics pushed me past the idea of school being just about grades. I remember Ms. Kim in physics asking us not just to solve equations but to design. Our group ended up building sailboat hull models, testing them against wind and water. It was real, messy, and sometimes frustrating but it made me realize learning wasn’t about memorization, it was about connecting knowledge to the real world. Teachers didn’t just teach they coached, questioned, and nudged until you saw more than you thought possible.

I wasn’t the star athlete, but track and field shaped me. I can still feel the nerves of stepping onto the line for city finals with my heart pounding, spikes biting into the track, teammates shouting my name. I didn’t win that race, but when I looked up and saw my dorm friends jumping like I’d just broken a record, I realized what mattered to me, belonging. At SMUS, athletics weren’t just about competition but they were also about finding out what resilience feels like when others carry you forward.

The arts at SMUS surprised me. I wasn’t a performer, but I spent hours with performers, it was chaotic but strangely grounding. Watching my classmates step into the spotlight knowing I helped create that world behind the curtain gave me pride I didn’t expect. Creativity isn’t limited to talent at SMUS, it’s about finding your place in the canvas, the script, or even the stage lights.

With over a hundred clubs, choosing felt impossible. I hopped between eco-coalition, debate, and creative writing. Each one introduced me to a different circle of people and ideas. One week I was preparing a climate policy pitch, the next I was arguing ethics in debate, and then scribbling poems late at night. Extra-curriculars weren’t just time fillers but they were also catalysts for growth.

Dorm life was where SMUS truly became home. Nights stretched long with study groups turning into philosophical debates, or someone pulling out a guitar at 11 p.m. and sparking impromptu singalongs. I remember running to the corner store for ramen during study break, sprinting back with noodles spilling everywhere while the whole dorm cheered like I’d won a race. Those silly, ordinary nights are what bonded us. My closest friendships were forged in those hallways.

Food was a constant thread. Graves Hall served more than meals, it was a place where conversations flowed and friendships solidified. I’ll never forget the garlic bread that somehow became everyone’s comfort food, or the Friday curries that felt like a hug after a brutal week. Dining at SMUS wasn’t glamorous, but it was grounding, a rhythm that kept us fueled and connected.

Victoria was a gift. The cafés became havens for weekend study marathons, while the waterfront was my go to reset button when school felt overwhelming. The town struck this perfect balance: enough energy to feel alive, but enough calm to let you breathe. There’s something about grabbing a coffee, wandering to the seawall, and just sitting with the ocean that stays with you.

Social life at SMUS was organic. The best moments for me weren’t at formal dances but in the everyday post-exam relief turning into pizza nights, or the time my house pulled an all-nighter decorating for Spirit Day. Everyone brought something unique, and somehow it all fit. Inclusivity wasn’t a checkbox here, it was the natural byproduct of living and learning so closely together.