I went to an all-male school

Whenever I reveal that I attended an all-boys prep school for the six years before I came to college, the obvious question is whether I have difficulty dealing with the opposite sex. I always say yes — but quickly explain that my difficulties stem solely from personal ineptitude and have no relation to my high school experience. Perhaps it's hard for those of coeducational backgrounds to believe that a single-sex education has positives; it might seem outdated and not an archetypal American experience. I take great pleasure, however, in debunking many of the stereotypes associated with single-sex schooling.

Looking back, I believe the greatest advantage that a single-sex education gave me was a powerful sense of self-confidence upon graduation (which the University has subsequently dismantled). With 450 boys from seventh to 12th grade, but no girls around, Belmont Hill successfully separated social anxieties from the academic and athletic arenas, marginalizing the psychological trauma of acne, braces and random outgrowths of facial hair. I was able to venture outside of my comfort zone to engage in academic and athletic activities that I might have been reluctant to participate in otherwise.

A couple of memories stand out. One is of a "skit" I had to perform with a partner for an English class. We had to choose a scene from "Macbeth" — our teacher strongly encouraged us to have fun with the assignment, as it would be performed in front of the rest of class and graded. For our performance of the "Double, double, toil and trouble" scene from Act IV, we raided the theatrical supplies room and located props ranging from a cauldron to tattered garments. In a few days' time, we stood on stage in full drag, including tangled grey wigs and long, stick-on nails — not to mention full chests. While performing the scene, we programmed "The Whole World," by Outkast, to crescendo in the background as we increasingly writhed over the cauldron. Needless to say, we had barely finished the scene before we broke out laughing.

In the winter of my senior year, another friend of mine embarked on a visual media project to replicate an "American Idol" type of competition. His goal was to create mock, lip-synched videos in which his friends acted out scenes to popular music. Though reluctant at first, I gradually warmed up to the idea. In my first music video, I sang a song by ferocious pop-sensation Jesse McCartney, titled "Beautiful Soul," to one of about five female teachers at school. (N.B.: She was young and rather attractive.) My friend's competition website, with all our videos, quickly spiked in popularity. Unfortunately, after the production of my second-round video, a duet with a female from a nearby all-girls school to Aqua's famed "Barbie Girl," I was eliminated. (Luckily, my friend fared better: His website has received well over a million hits, and he currently works for Columbia Records.)

On the surface, Belmont Hill fit much of the standard conception of single-sex education: a dress code of blazer and tie (even at meals), mandatory study halls (proctored of course) and compulsory athletics. The standard conception of single-sex education is shortsighted, however. Truly, a nurturing environment in which venturing outside one's comfort zone is routine is a hallmark of single-sex education. And after reflecting on the course of my six years at an all-boys prep school, I know I wouldn't change a thing. Brendon Luby is a junior politics major from Wayland, Mass. He can be reached at bluby@princeton.edu.