Home of some of the best sports teams in Prep School history, Andover dominates nearly in nearly every sport. Long considered rivals with Exeter, Andover realized the humor in the fact. In order to be rivals, Exeter had to beat them, which hasnt happened in a long while. Last year, at Andover/Exeter, the Big Blue football team beat the Big Stinking Red 42 - 14. Near the end of the game, Andover brought many players off the bench, because they felt so bad for the pathetic excuse of an Exeter football team. Also league champions in Cross Country, Swimming, and Volleyball, as well as many other sports.
Hated by kids who attend Andover High School, students at Andover are often referred to as a catboner.
Much more esteemed and respected than its rival, Exeter. The first two words that come to my mind would have to be "back up". Everyone knows that Exeter is a safety school for kids who couldn't get into Andover. Most of the kids at Exeter have parents who bought their childrens way into Andover's crappy counterpart in the middle of nowhere.
No, I meant Phillips Academy Andover, not that shitty excuse of a school Phillips Exeter Academy!
Andover students are the brightest of the bright, with nearly 65% of each graduating class matriculating at a top 20 University. Therefore, competition is high and the tension on campus is great. When combined with the "Andover bubble" effect students experience, the high-tension atmosphere of Andover leaves students to drinking and drugs. However, it seems these activities have little negative impact on either the grades or the pyschologies of the students.
All in all, alumni feel an increasing love for the school as time passes, despite the feeling of desperation many felt while in attendance.
The school is located 25 miles north of Boston; students have no dress code; there are approximately 1100 students; there are 35 AP certified classes offered and the Physics department was recently hailed "the best in the world" by College Board.
should've seen him when old Sally asked him how he liked the play. He was
the kind of a phony that have to give themselves room when they answer
somebody's question. He stepped back, and stepped right on the lady's foot
behind him. He probably broke every toe in her body. He said the play itself
was no masterpiece, but that the Lunts, of course, were absolute angels.
Angels. For Chrissake. Angels. That killed me. Then he and old Sally started
talking about a lot of people they both knew. It was the phoniest
conversation you ever heard in your life. They both kept thinking of places
as fast as they could, then they'd think of somebody that lived there and
mention their name. I was all set to puke when it was time to go sit down
again. I really was. And then, when the next act was over, they continued
their goddam boring conversation. They kept thinking of more places and more
names of people that lived there. The worst part was, the jerk had one of
those very phony, Ivy League voices, one of those very tired, snobby voices.
He sounded just like a girl. He didn't hesitate to horn in on my date, the
bastard. I even thought for a minute that he was going to get in the goddam
cab with us when the show was over, because he walked about two blocks with
us, but he had to meet a bunch of phonies for cocktails, he said. I could
see them all sitting around in some bar, with their goddam checkered vests,
criticizing shows and books and women in those tired, snobby voices. They
kill me, those guys. I sort of hated old Sally by the time we got in the
cab, after listening to that phony Andover bastard for about ten hours."
- Salinger, J.D. "The Catcher In the Rye." Little Brown: Boston, MA. 1951. (pp 127-8)