Brentwood College School - Review #18

When I think back to my years at Brentwood, what stands out most is how the school encouraged me to use my voice and not just to speak, but to make others listen and empathize. I remember preparing for TEDxBrentwoodCollegeSchool with pounding nerves, hand-building pottery pieces for display and wearing the duties of Assistant Alex House Captain with pride. While Day 1 in the amphitheatre made me feel exposed, by the time I stepped up to deliver “Running For The Wrong Reasons,” I had discovered that my story mattered. Brentwood gave me the tools to craft that story, academically and emotionally.

Presenting at TEDxBrentwood made me realize that my voice could be a force for empathy and change. Graduation felt both sweet and terrifying. I was stepping into a wider world, but I did so believing I had something worth saying. If I could go back, I’d remind myself sooner to take creative risks and build confidence in my stories. Advice for new students: step up for things that scare you a bit—it’s often where you discover who you really are.

If I could go back, I’d remind myself sooner to take creative risks and build confidence in my stories. Advice for new students: step up for things that scare you a bit that is where you discover who you really are.

What I valued most about Brentwood was how it nurtured both my voice and my heart. It wasn’t just about success in exams or presentations; it was about becoming someone who sees others, speaks with intention, and leads with gentleness and courage.

To incoming students: find your space, mine was the pottery studio at dusk, clay under my fingernails and music in the background. Keep your spirit alive by feeding it with quiet rituals such as a sunset by the creek, or a heartfelt conversation with your House Captain. Celebrate small victories and never forget that home is as much where your heart blooms as where your dorm is.

I remember sitting in Mr. Chen’s economics class, fascinated at how supply-and-demand could explain almost everything from movie tickets to teenage friendships. Teaching was never about memorizing definitions. It was about discussion and understanding. When I made mistakes in essays, Ms. Thompson would stop what she was doing to sit with me and unpack the ideas together. Because of that, I entered Ivey not just with academic skills, but with confidence in my ability to learn collaboratively and compassionately.

I wasn’t a varsity athlete, but I appreciated being part of the broader school sporting culture. Whether cheering rowers off the docks or organizing snack stations during games, I learned that support roles aren’t secondary but they're central to team spirit and belonging.

My love for creativity manifested most in pottery, but I was lucky to be surrounded by incredible talents in music and theatre. I’d stay late to watch the school musical performances, always inspired by the bravery of my friends stepping into the spotlight. Those experiences taught me that creativity flourishes in community, not competition.

Brentwood taught me that leadership means seeing a need and quietly filling it. I volunteered at school cleanups, helped set up for assemblies, and helped mentor younger students during tutorial sessions. As Pottery Captain, I learned how to balance teaching new students with managing my own deadlines, a lesson that helped later when deadlines piled up at Western.

I lived in Day Student status, but my friendships extended into dorm life. I was often invited by dormmates for study jams or casual movie nights during midterms. I remember the comfort of walking into a warm dorm hallway after a long day and being greeted with laughter and warmth as though I truly belonged.

The dining hall was without doubt the soul of our school. Lunches with friends like Maya and Sarah turned into debates about world news, spirit week costumes, or shared stress about upcoming exams. Something about the smell of fresh soup, or the comforting rhythm of the midday bell, always made everything feel possible again.

Mill Bay felt both cozy and expansive. I loved weekend trips to Victoria with friends for bubble tea, maybe a bookstore visit, or just wandering the streets recentering before Monday classes. Town life offered a breather from the school rhythms while keeping me connected to British Columbia life.

At Brentwood, social life wasn’t forced. It was felt in shared laughter over house banter, joining night pottery sessions, or whispering support during public speaking rehearsals. The community was inclusive, grounded in shared experience rather than superficial popularity.