For me, one of the best feelings in the world is meeting someone who went to an all-girls’ school. The feeling is hard to convey as it is a mixture of curiosity and excitement that leads to a long conversation of endless comparisons about uniform skirts, disciplinary policies, the school environment, and of course, friendship. This conversation could last for hours, as the experience of the all-girls’ school is one that is full of many similar stories and experiences. Now that it's been over a year since I graduated from an all-girls' school, I want to take the time to say what that experience means to me.

For eight years, I attended a private all-girls’ school in Nashville, Tennessee, called Harpeth Hall (Amy Grant and Reese Witherspoon are notable alumnae). Located in a gorgeous residential neighborhood, Harpeth Hall is surrounded by beautiful trees and houses. To most who attend, Harpeth Hall quickly becomes home. It is where we spent hours upon hours figuring out calculus concepts or French conjugations; it is where we put in a lot of effort to learn a dance just for it to be re-choreographed; and it is where we learned to love each other open-heartedly and without judgment. In a place where there seemed to be few petty distractions, we were able to learn and thrive from our teachers and the girls around us.

My memories from Harpeth Hall are full of laughter, tears and a bond that is just too difficult to explain to those who didn’t attend a single-sex school. Rolling out of bed with not so much as brushing your hair was the norm, as was coming to school with a plethora of zits. A bad day was quickly brightened with embarrassing stories. Failing a test could always have a silver lining with the amazing faculty who cared enough to help because they took the time to get to know each and every girl. Harpeth Hall wasn’t always an easy ride, and at times it seemed easier to just give up. As I look back, I'm so glad I didn't.

Graduating from Harpeth Hall was one of the most bittersweet moments I’ve ever experienced, as I was leaving behind memories and lessons that I know I could have never learned anywhere else. As I sang the alma mater for the last time with my class, I was overcome with sadness to think that this would be the last time I would see most of the girls around me. I was, however, settled by the idea that when we cross paths again, we have one of the greatest bonds to be shared. Oftentimes, that bond can be shared with other girls who graduated from all-girls’ schools. They just get it.

Attending an all-girls' school comes with a lot of judgment and questioning. No, we aren't all "psycho feminists," we don't spend hours gossiping about each other, and we don't go to college boy-obsessed. We do, however, use our uniform skirts as napkins, eat crazy amounts of food whether it is ours or not, sing Miley Cyrus songs as loudly as possible, slay in powder puff (two years in a row), throw a legendary Beatles-themed prom featuring Nashville's local band, Moon Taxi and graduate in long, white dresses — where all of a sudden, it seems like everyone is much older and wiser than they were just a few days before.

I loved every minute of it, and I loved it all. The multi-purpose plaid skirt, the campus, the senior house, the faculty and staff, the love, the laughter and the countless memories.

So, to the school and 87 girls who made me who I am today: thank you. And to my fellow all girls'-school alumnae: thanks for understanding that our white dresses are for graduation, not a huge polygamist wedding.