6:10 p.m. - 05/26/03
graduation speech #1.
Since I don't have to write any, I'll probably write several.
*
I would like to welcome all faculty, staff, family, and friends to the 2003 commencement ceremony. I'd especially like to welcome my classmates and to suggest we commend ourselves for showing up today where we have not always shown up in the past. For twelve years, we have fought pop quizzes, jammed lockers, research papers, triple-booked schedules, material that did not move us, and material that carried us away, and today, together, we are here: graduating. We are drunk on impending independence with a twist of nostalgia. We're talking quickly or forgoing speech altogether; our brains are thick with memories. We're remembering, mostly, the jokes we shouted in hallways and those notes we passed illegally in classes, not necessarily what we learned in the classes themselves. We're each bright with some combination of the joy in our experience and the thrill of leaving it behind, and for the moment we're engaged. Today, we are the topic. We are the lesson plan. We glow, and even gloat, in that achievement, and slowly we come closer to understanding that tomorrow, we are the teachers, too. For twelve years, this hodgepodge faculty has insisted on educating us. Now we will educate. Starting today, we each form our own tomorrow, and in that, carry a responsibility to teach what we have learned.
Teach. Teach the children especially. Children have the brightest eyes and the most ready ears; they have their own wisdom and the willingness to listen when other's is imparted. So teach (especially) the children everything you've learned by every means - your hard way and your easy A; teach them how to see and what to value. Refuse the right to walk into your future having disregarded your past. Remember your time here; remember the lessons learned from teachers, from students, from custodians, in classes, in hallways, in lockerrooms, on buses, and off school grounds. Teach what you want to have learned in the manner you wish you had learned it. We have ascended, my friends; we have reached the summit of this institution, and now, we take the reigns. What else will you take with you?
From this building, you carry your competency, something not secured in your diploma but in your identity. Let this identity glow in whichever world you choose to live, with whomever you choose to share it. Share what you carry with you - this education, this massive, invisible wealth you have well earned. When you meet a child, share with them your wisdom. Teach them that they deserve respect, how to act in keeping with that truth, and that no individual can demand this respect from them. Teach them to value those who earn it. Teach them that questions matter more than answers, and grades are best reserved for classifying meat. Teach them how to shield themselves from injury, how to catch, dodge, or return every ball that's thrown at them. Tell them never to train their voice and to value first their own opinion. Tell them only to fear public speaking when the words are not their own; teach them integrity. Teach them how to balance going the extra mile with taking an extra break. Make sure they know terms like "mental health day" and understand the necessity of using them. Make sure they feel understood and prioritize that understanding - of their own true identity - above all else. Help them to recognize allies, to seek help when they need it, to nod at the red checkmarks on their homework and still not believe in mistakes. Teach them that the question they miss in class they will know on the test, and the question they miss on the test may teach them more than anyone intended. Let them learn, through what they grasp and what they miss, of topics far more elemental than literature or history. Teach them to learn; teach them not to be ashamed of learning. Show them that shifting back to master a missed step can mean more than learning it the first time. Impart to them the beauty of one-on-one conferences: of students tutoring each other, teachers taking the extra time to repeat a lesson for one student when - technically - they're off the clock, and the meetings with guidance counselors to calm seemingly desperate storms. Teach them that in hiding their problems, they will only learn how to stay in pain, lose hope, and feel alone. Teach them to speak up, then, and to walk at eye-level with the world. Teach them how to be, honestly, who they are, so they may have peace in any experience. And then, teach them love. For every time you needed it, for every person who withheld it, for every angel that offered it, and for the privilege to offer it yourself, teach love.
Today, we transition from a world that has not always been kind into a world we have great power in defining. We move from a world that has sometimes failed us into a world where we define success. We move from students to citizens; we are finally in charge - and of something far greater than the length of recess or the rules regarding gum. We have, fully, the rights to our own lives and the right to spend them well. We have the right to teach and the right to continue learning. We have the right not to forget what we've learned and not to keep our stories silent. So today, when you toss up your cap, lift up your head as well. Insubordination stands behind us; independence prevails ahead. Carry that knowledge with you. You have earned the right to live in this world; you have learned the price of not acting accordingly. So today, when the time comes, do not walk out of a school. Enter a world.
*
um...yeah. I'm not sure where all that "especially the children" bullshit surfaced from, but otherwise I think its pallatable. I must be subconsciously honing my writing skills for some reason...
(better that than feeling compelled to consider my scholastic upbringing. oh, damn, I think it's both...)
chord
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