I didn't realize until this morning, a week after these students had walked the stage and the year had come to a close, that although this speech had been passed on to students, I never shared it here. So, here it is, my honoring of this year's students. Click here for previous culmination addresses.
To the Class of 2023
Do you remember that moment? Sometime this past winter, we discussed spring and graduation, but it was strange. You were not very excited about it, as if none of you could imagine graduation, what you might wear, or who would be there to cheer you across the stage, all of those mixed emotions that come with seeing your classmates dressed up, and smiling mixed with a little sadness and nostalgia as you move on from these hallways, these teachers, these friends.
That was when I realized, you, this class of 2023 had never graduated. You all were fifth graders in 2020 when the world shut down when the end of fifth grade was stolen from you. There were no celebrations, no last days of elementary to mark all you had learned and accomplished. But that was three years ago now, and since then we’ve been working hard and adjusting to being back.
So, I became cautious. I was teaching in the same room, same books, same poems, but I was on watch. Was that comment mean? Was he gaslighting me? Was she being sweet, or fake? I was stuck in my head, and I took things personally. I was hurting.
In her song, “Anti-Hero,” Taylor Swift says, “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.” I played this song back in November when we were writing novels. My novel this year was about a girl who lied, but it wasn’t until recently, that I realized I was the liar. I had been trying to convince all of you to choose kindness, choose love, invest in relationships, but I was scared to do the same. I guarded my heart. I kept my distance.
And yet, and you showed me brilliance. You shared your lives, your stories, your experiences and slowly, cautiously, you cracked my heart back open. You reminded me that I get out of teaching what I put into it, that what I give in my relationships with each of you, make this work rewarding; fulfilling.
French philosopher Albert Camus says, “Real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present.” Thank you, Class of 2023, for being so generous to me, for reminding me to be present each day. For this past school year, you have been my present. You have taught me to be here, where my feet are, and that is what gives this work meaning: the relationships we build as people, as a class, as a school, as a community. Thank you for reading and writing and learning with me. Thank you for all you have taught me. Taylor also says, “One day I’ll watch as you’re leaving, and life will lose all its meaning” but that’s where Taylor might not be right. Life has meaning. Right here, right now, where our feet are, on this graduation day. You made it. We made it, and life has the meaning we chose to make of it.
Thank you.
