At 5 a.m, last Friday, our senior editorial board, along with about 120 members of Class I, rolled out of bed to attend the annual Senior Sunrise on Observatory Hill. There, we watched the sky lighten and contemplated our pasts and futures at Milton. Aside from the aureate sunrise and our ambivalent sentiments, we awed at the unexpectedly “high” attendance from the senior class. According to our class deans, historically, only a reported 30-40 seniors make the trek to campus in the early morning. The lack of engagement represents a larger problem on campus: Milton’s lack of school spirit and reluctance to participate in social events.

Milton feels like a container rather than a “school.” Students are united by the shared experience of attending Milton, but not by much else. During the school day, students and groups within this container interact as they bump into each other, but outside of the school day, there is no binding—no sense of community or shared dedication to traditions—keeping students together. At a school without Homecoming, where sports teams (even Varsity Football) see minimal attendance at games, where little more than 60% of the senior class attended Senior Sunrise—and that was considered “a lot”—we lack the “traditional” high school experience seen on TV or in books.

As a student body, why are we afraid to participate?

Perhaps it’s because students have organized themselves into social groups often delineated by sports team, social interest, or day/boarding status. Many of these sects of the community though, seem rife with spirit. Though Milton has not succeeded in imbuing its student body as a whole with a unifying spirit, there are examples of smaller, sub-sectional communities in Milton that feel amalgamated—the dorms, for example. Boarders on this board report showing more allegiance to their dorm than Milton as a whole. Inter-dorm competition fuels dorm pride, a kind of rally around-the-flag effect we see materialized in dorm dodgeball feuds. Past efforts to integrate this competitive spirit into the Upper School community as a whole—like former Head Monitors Chris Amodeo ‘24’s and Katherine Risden ‘24’s “Stang Stable” campaign—have failed.

If you look back at The Milton Measure’s history of articles from the past three years, you’d find a common theme: the dances and SAA run events have been disappointing. Students sometimes pitch the blame to the administration: one example that comes to mind is Glow Dance. In an era before any of us attended Milton, Glow Dance— an annual, highly-publicized SAA event — saw nearly the entire Upper School population packed into the RSG, slinging glow paint on each other’s white T-shirts. But, a few years back, the administration removed the paint-throwing. The Glow Dance we experienced was a let-down: few upperclassmen and only some underclassmen attended, and without the excitement of throwing paint everywhere, the dance felt lackluster.

We gripe a lot about a lack of school spirit and “high school culture” here at Milton, but in our deflection of blame, we forget that we, the students, have the power. As each fall welcomes the chance for reinvention, it comes down to us to create the culture we want for our school. If students want more entertaining events, we should reach out to — or perhaps become— those in positions of authority. The SGA, SAA, and our litany of clubs and adults ultimately strive to serve the student body.

Still, the crux of an experience lies in its attendance and energy. Throughout the years, Senior Sunrise has seen varying degrees of success, though the nature of the event has stayed simple and consistent. This year, unprecedented sentimentality lit up observatory hill. Listening to Lorde and Steve Lacy, we awed at the rising light, the speed of the past three years, and, mostly, that next to us were the people who defined them — our Class IV Physics lab partners, hallway crushes, and closest confidants. This is to say, our presence makes and changes our space. The engagement at Senior Sunrise should not become a historical anomaly. Let the Class of 2026 set a precedent of showing up this school year— regardless of whether it's your last or first.