What It's Really Like at Pomfret School: My Experience Behind the Polished Image
Please, please, please listen up if you are thinking of going there or sending your child there.
When I first visited Pomfret School, I was enchanted. The campus is stunning, the students were all smiling, the staff was welcoming, and everyone seemed genuinely happy to be there. I later learned that these visits are choreographed down to the last detail. Students are told to smile, dress well, hold doors, and perform a version of Pomfret that doesn't reflect the daily reality. The truth is much darker, and for students like me, damaging.
The Truth About the Culture
The culture at Pomfret is dominated by cliques, status, and exclusivity. If you're not white, wealthy, or a people-pleasing extension of those who are, you're often sidelined. This exclusion isn't limited to students; teachers reinforce it. If you're in the "in" group, you'll have lengthy conversations with teachers you pass. Maybe even get an off-the-books trip to the nearby Starbucks. If you're not, you're mostly invisible. Staff will give you a small smile or wave, but they will not engage with you as they have with these outgoing, popular students. Most students see these less seen students and make them targets.
You're seen as "quiet" if you don't fit in, or "weird" if you act differently. You're called "cringe" for showing interest in things outside the narrow social norms. Gossip, vaping, underage drinking, and cruelty masked as "fun" dominate the social scene.
Exclusion and toxicity among girls is what I can speak to as well. At Pomfret, a group of girls holds significant power, and it's clear that if you're not part of their circle, you're not a person. As a white student, I was able to make friends fairly quickly, but I soon realized the disgusting behaviors that went on behind closed doors. The girls who dominated the campus social life were exclusive and manipulative. They created an environment where individuals who didn't fit their narrow standards were pushed aside, ignored, or actively excluded.
When I finally connected with the only two people I felt were decent, moral individuals, I learned just how deep the divide went. This was our senior year, and we had all known these girls since sophomore year. One of my friends, a Black student, told me that she had repeatedly tried to get to the "in" girls. Almost immediately, people started reporting back to my friend that they were calling her "loud" and "ghetto", terms that were completely untrue and based on harmful stereotypes. She was none of those things. This is the same "ghetto" girl who was accepted with almost complete rides to numerous Ivy League-level schools. My other friend, a quieter student, shared that in three years at Pomfret, not a single person had even tried to befriend her or talk to her. She was invisible, as if she didn't matter at all.
These girls, who hold significant power within the social hierarchy, influence the overall mood of the entire campus. If the popular girls aren't there, neither are the boys, and if they aren't, the activity would probably be considered too cringeworthy or embarrassing to attend. The worst part is the exclusion. If one person in their group doesn't like you, or you're just an outsider, you'll be relentlessly made fun of behind your back. They'll whisper about you, spread rumors (true or false), and attempt to make everyone avoid you. The more you try to engage, the more invisible you become. It's a cruel, isolating experience, especially when these are the people you live with. They're the ones you brush your teeth next to, the ones you share space with daily. The emotional toll of feeling invisible, alienated, and misunderstood in what's supposed to be your home is immeasurable.
What makes this worse is the fact that the adults —teachers, dorm parents, etc. —seem to turn a blind eye. These cliques are allowed to thrive unchecked, creating a school environment that feels more like a toxic social experiment than a supportive community.
Athletics: A Site of Harm
The athletics at Pomfret are, at best, mediocre. In my first week of school, I asked my roommate if we should watch the football game that upcoming Friday. I had transferred from a public school, and at my old school, football games were a time when every student could feel school spirit and togetherness. My freshman year at this public school, a random senior called me to the top of the student section, and although it was something small, it made me feel a part of that community. My roommate's reaction was to laugh. "Why would we do that?" she responded, with a judgmental tone. She was right, though. Why would we go down to a grass field and watch an 8-man football game? Yeah, I didn't even know other schools had 8-man football as well. The field where they were watching didn't even have any seating. Now that I think about it, none of the fields had any form of seating for any crowd whatsoever.
My athletic experience, however, was traumatic. I was recruited, a common occurrence in private schools, to be the girls' varsity soccer goalkeeper. I had played soccer since I was a young girl, and I was very competitive within the sport. While boarding during my sophomore and junior years, I carpooled an hour to my club soccer practices and an hour back, often after my required sport at Pomfret, and often at late hours. I wanted to go to college for soccer, but sadly, this experience has shaken me enough to step away from the field for now.
My coach, a woman deeply entrenched in Pomfret's power structure, had an extreme coaching regimen, and it was clear from the first day I arrived on campus that I would never measure up to the goalkeeper that I was replacing. I believe a part of the reason she hated me so much was that, unlike my predecessor, I wasn't naturally athletic, extremely tall, and silent against her abuses. Her husband also holds a high-ranking position as school chaplain, and her children are alumni. She has multiple influential roles, including Director of Wellbeing.
She was kind and welcoming during my initial visit, but once I became a student, her true nature was revealed. Yelling at players constantly, favoritism, and public humiliation were routine. Practices and games often ended with players crying, and losing wasn't met with encouragement or growth but harsh verbal attacks.
I vividly remember my sophomore year when we played Miss Porters, a notoriously amazing team and back-to-back state cup winners. We lost the game 5-1. As soon as the game ended, I knew what was coming, and I started crying as I was walking off the field. She approached me as I was walking off the field and told me that my "performance was abysmal", a word I had to look up on the bus home. She told me she would rather "put gloves on a field player". After all of this, she simply walked away to then yell at our team. No things to improve on, no words of encouragement, no comfort. Just harsh, callous words that dug into my 15-year-old heart like knives.
She wasn't just tough —she was harmful. She regularly pushed injured players to stay on the field or return prematurely, dismissing pain as "all in our heads." Once, at an away game, a very young new student slammed into a door and developed a significant swelling on her eyebrow with visible bleeding. While I encouraged her to see the trainers, she was hesitant because our coach told her she needed to play that day. She continued to play almost the entire game. She didn't receive any medical attention or go through concussion protocol until her parents urged her to do so the next day. At another away game, I suffered a severe injury when a cleat struck my face, with about 20 minutes remaining in the second half. My lip was swelling, and blood was pouring down my face onto my shirt. My coach remained seated. She didn't run onto the field to see if I was okay, and didn't say a single word to me for the rest of that day. I was treated by the other team's trainer and consoled by our assistant coach. The next day, in the write-up for the game that gets sent out to inform families about scores and things of that nature, my coach devoted an entire paragraph to the "player of the game, "who not only played a fantastic first half on the field but who also kept a clean sheet when she had to step into goal for most of the second half when [I] came out with an injury." The very next game, our striker headed the ball out of the air and, after the fact, held her hand to her head. The ref blew the whistle, just to make sure she was okay, and our coach SPRINTED out onto the field to make sure she was okay. She walked off the field with her arm around her shoulder, helping her each step of the way. Safety and well-being were secondary to winning or control.
Players she favored received extensive support: private meetings, connections to college coaches, even home-cooked meals delivered to the dorm weekly. Those she didn't favor, including me, were often ignored or treated with indifference or outright hostility. I remember times when I would call her name so loudly that everyone was looking at me, except her. It was psychological torture, and she knew that.
Despite years of complaints from parents and students, including myself, the administration largely dismissed these concerns. Only after my parents intervened did the school take superficial steps, but no real change happened. No apologies, nothing. This environment made it clear that talent or hard work meant little without the right connections or being in the coach's good graces.
That being said, the friendships formed with my teammates who shared the struggles made a significant difference. The camaraderie among players offered some small solace amid the toxic coaching culture. Athletics at Pomfret, in my experience, was less about fostering growth or teamwork and more about navigating power dynamics, favoritism, and sometimes outright abuse. This was crucial in my simple survival at this school. When I no longer knew how to navigate/tolerate the tumultuous relationship, I crumbled under the pressure.
Dorm Life and Food
Dorm placement was a mystery to me. I know that since I've left, Pomfret has implemented a lottery system to help equalize the living situation. Before that, however, it felt slightly biased. Although there was a housing form that you could fill out with your preferences, I found that the less popular you were, the less likely your housing preferences would align with what you wanted. Those with more influence or social standing often were placed together, while others, like me, were left out. In retrospect, I realize that Pomfret had no interest in fostering a healthy community for young adults. Still, I had always wondered why it didn't utilize dorm placement to encourage meeting new people and expanding social circles. I've noticed that girls who are friends are usually placed in the same hall, except for a few exceptions, while everyone else is randomly assigned.
For those on the outside, being in the dorm meant hanging out with your few close friends. From my experience, at least, being on the outside in the dorm meant watching life happen through a closed door. It meant lying in bed, hearing laughter echo from rooms down the hall, always just out of reach. The popular girls would crowd into rooms, passing around nicotine and weed, blasting music, and cackling in tight circles that felt impenetrable.
If you weren't in that circle, you weren't invited. You weren't acknowledged. You were just background noise. You'd walk past open doors and the conversation would drop, or they'd whisper just loud enough to let you know it was about you, followed by a bellowing laughter. It was isolating, not just socially but emotionally. Knowing that no matter how hard you tried, you weren't part of what everyone else seemed to call "fun." You were just surviving the silence.
Theft was common. Toxicity was constant. You quickly realized that your dorm experience was entirely dependent on luck and status.
While you could buy food for your dorm room, it was either on the weekends during trips, or you had to order from an outside delivery service. Dorm parents determined your food access. Some brought snacks and supported students, but others didn't. It depended on the person and the dorm. There's no consistent food access after the dining hall closes, which is 7pm. On weekends, you might be able to go to the "Tuck," which was our small school cafe. There you could buy fast food items, drinks, and snacks, but it was never open during the weekdays at night. During the spring, I had practice, then went straight to orchestra, then to study hall. By the time I finished orchestra and had maybe 15 minutes to eat before study hall, the dining hall was long closed. For more nights than I can count, I would eat what they did leave out, oyster crackers, and try my best to ignore my growling stomach while trying to sleep before doing it all over the next day.
In terms of meals, many students also opted out of the dining hall. If you could afford it, ordering food for every meal, as well as groceries for snacking, was so everyday that we had special food delivery boxes for each dorm. You just had to get to your food before somebody else did.
However, I do want to mention that the dining hall, while serving questionable meals most of the time, offers some options and accommodations. It's not the best in the world, but you can't expect it to be. The dining hall staff try their very best with what they are given, and I wish the student body (and some teachers) would treat them with the respect and gratitude they deserve. The dining hall staff works really hard to create extraordinary treats and organize events like holiday-aligned meals and culture nights. They are all nice, hardworking, and deserving of being treated like equals, cough cough, Pomfret students.
Clubs & Extracurriculars: Hollow Options
This sector of Pomfret wasn't always dull, but it depended on the student body at the time. Pomfret has several prominent clubs, with Key Club and Green Griffins being the ones that come to mind at this moment. I tried to start a club, but I quickly realized that clubs not led by an adult organization on campus (like Key Club, Green Griffins, etc.) were rarely joined for the love of the idea, but rather for college applications. By my senior year, the only people asking to "join" my club were those seeking external validation for their extracurricular sheet. This was one of the main reasons kids would join clubs in the first place anyway. Students often avoided joining or creating a club they wanted to be part of out of fear of being judged or excluded. If you're not publicly exclaiming, "I'm doing this for my parents," while rolling your eyes, participating in clubs can feel like setting yourself up for ridicule. Many students seemed passionate about specific ideas, but never felt safe or encouraged enough to act on them.
What I Did Like
Despite everything I've shared, I want to be clear: there were plenty aspects of Pomfret that I truly valued, and that made a lasting impact on me.
First and foremost, the campus itself is beautiful —peaceful, quiet, and surrounded by nature. It can feel like a world away from everything, in both positive and negative ways. That physical environment offered moments of calm and reflection that I needed.
More importantly, the academic opportunities at Pomfret were worlds beyond what I would have access to at my public school. The quality of education, both in terms of content and method, was exceptional. I learned how to think deeply, explore new ideas, and approach challenges from multiple perspectives. I learned how to code in one class while creating a new type of prison after researching the prison-industrial complex in another. The resources for learning were seemingly endless. Our library, with its quiet corners and strong research support (and phenomenal librarian), the incredible new science building with top-tier labs and equipment, and the art center, which became a creative haven for many students.
Some of the faculty made all the difference. A few teachers went out of their way not to only help me academically, but to truly understand me as a person. They offered support when I was struggling, noticed something was off, and connected with me in ways I'll never forget. That human connection mattered more than any grade I ever received.
Pomfret's counseling and therapy program also deserves recognition. The mental health support staff are kind, accessible, and genuinely invested in student wellbeing. Therapy at Pomfret for me was much more than a resource, but a lifeline. I credit some of the sessions I had with my therapist with helping me get through the most complex parts of my time at Pomfret.
So yes, while there were serious cultural and structural issues at the school, my growth academically and emotionally was also real. And I'm grateful to the people and places on campus who contributed to that growth.
My Advice to Prospective Students
If you're considering Pomfret or any boarding school, talk to real students. Not tour guides, not handpicked ambassadors. Ask tough, honest questions. Shadow someone, if you can. Find out what life is actually like behind the curtain. Don't fall for the performance that every private school puts on. Recognize the good and even great parts, but never fail to overlook the fact that, at the end of the day, this is a business.
I wish I had known what I was getting into. I hope now, maybe you will.
Me:
I'm a recent graduate of Pomfret School, sharing my unfiltered experience in the hope of providing future students with a more complete picture that I haven't been able to find online. While my time there involved genuine academic growth and support from a few incredible individuals, it was also influenced by toxic social dynamics and a harmful culture that too often went unaddressed. I write this not out of bitterness but out of honesty and hope for future generations of Pomfret students. No teen should suffer developmental setbacks due to a lack of oversight or care. Each individual who walks this Earth matters, including those who walk onto Pomfret's campus. Fear, anxiety, and pressure should be occasional feelings, not everyday guides to survival. Students deserve to know the whole story, not just the polished image.
There are many people, places, and stories I don't cover in this post. I could endlessly talk about the turmoil Pomfret is going through, whether it wants to acknowledge it or not.
Thanks for reading! :)
