Graduation Speech

School is not easy in any sense at all. It is academically challenging, it is mentally challenging, it is challenging from a time management perspective, and it is most certainly one of the most socially challenging situations that you will ever experience.

From the days leading up to kindergarten to right now, standing here at the end of our final year at District 67, my experience has been packed full of lasting memories. I remember my parents telling me before my first day at Hynes that in kindergarten, you had to raise your hand before you spoke. So naturally, I imagined having a conversation with a new friend but we had to put our hand in the air every time we wanted to speak. Hynes was a dream come to life, full of fun, friends, and learning and discovering something new every day.

In fifth grade, we had a change in scenery. Moving to Golf was a change that I, like kindergarten, approached with enthusiasm and I was anxious to finally begin middle school.

Sixth grade was the first time I got to spend all day every day with my twenty one best friends.

Seventh and eighth grade were when school became difficult and many times stressful. Suddenly, it took effort to make friends and the world seemed to be more judgmental.

But, I got through it. We all did. We were able to conquer middle school, and with it, the world. I don’t think that’s how that works, but that’s definitely what it felt like.

You think these twenty one people are my class, but they are much much more. I cannot possibly describe who they are using actual words. I feel like shouting random gibberish might get a little bit closer to emphasizing the impact we have had on each other, but that’s a little weird so I’ll try the word strategy.

We have been together ever since math switch in first grade and throughout the years, we faced the world together, always together.

We possess a bond unlike any other. We help each other through each and every day. We respect each other. We have intelligent conversations with each other. We make each other laugh. We are able to access each other’s emotions so well that we are able to support each other whenever someone needs help.

These twenty one people are geniuses. They are helpful. They are compassionate. (Hey Mrs. Joyner! Compassionate is a vocab word. It means “to show care and sympathy towards others”.) They are respectful. They are hilarious. They are responsible...ish. JK. Rowling! They are phenomenal. And most of all they are my friends.

Now for the mass of thank yous.

Thank you to Dr. Flores, Ms. Chvojka, and Mrs. Westley. My experience at District 67 would not have been the same without the extraordinary work you do.

Thank you to all of the teachers I have had up until eighth grade. You’ve left me with so many great memories. I remember how excited I was when Mrs. Brandess, formerly Ms. Roos, let me use scissors and glue. I loooooooooved scissors and glue.

I’ll never forget Mrs. Uribe’s songs. “Bumped my head on a piece of cornbread!”

I remember in third grade, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy told us to highlight the important parts of our article about Pluto. I wasn’t really sure how to highlight things yet, and I really liked using my brand new highlighters, so I ended up highlighting the entire page.

I loved using my Mac Bucks in 4th grade.

But most of all, I remember that you were always there for me and set me up for success.

During my time at District 67, there have been a few long term substitute teachers. Thank you to all of them, especially Ms. Tziolas. You had a great impact on us in your short time here. The students at East Prairie are lucky to have you.

To my family, thank you for helping me and supporting me in everything that I do. In fact, when I told my dad I was writing a graduation speech and I wouldn’t show it to him until I finished, he said, “That’s so cool! Well, if you want I’ll help you in any way I can.”

I have realized that the teachers I have had this year have taught me much more than the curriculum they were given, and I will recognize them for that now.

Mrs. Conejo, thank you for teaching us Spanish, and also teaching us that kindness is everything.

Mrs. Maldonado, thank you for teaching us science, and also giving us the opportunity to discover, explore, and learn how the world works and the role that science plays in it.

Mr. Carris, thank you for teaching us social studies, and also showing us how to find the fun side of everything.

Mr. Carro, thank you for teaching us math, and also for teaching us life lessons, making sure we understood everything we could possibly need to know, and finding the punny side of everything.

Mrs. Joyner, thank you for teaching us reading and writing, and also laughing at our jokes, introducing me to Dear Evan Hansen, giving me a gazillion points for all of the vocabulary words I find in my books, recognizing that I frequently use hyperboles, and teaching us a very important lesson that we needed to learn: That it’s okay to be different. Sure, we all focus on not bullying people who have a disability or are of a different race than our own, but nobody has told this to a class of nerdy kids until now. Mrs. Joyner, you made us comfortable in our own skin and made sure to teach us that our awkwardness should be embraced, not hidden.   

You all pushed me to do better and better, and then when I was about to fall from all the pushing, you ran around on the other side and caught me. For that I thank you very much.

Toward the end of this year, I have been asked a few times what advice I would give to younger students, or my past self. I have avoided the question because I needed more time to think, but I came up with the following.

Always do your best. You will be surprised at what you can accomplish. And, for those of you who are like me, remember that you cannot do better than your best. Your best is the best you can do. That’s why it’s called your best. Always persevere and keep trying, even if you don’t succeed the first time.

I would like to close with a few lines from one of my fourteen favorite songs from the musical, “Dear Evan Hansen”, “To Break in A Glove.” It is about how to break in a baseball glove, but I have found that the baseball glove is a metaphor for life.

Even when everyone around you thinks you're crazy

Even when everyone around you lets things go

And whether you're prepping for some test

Or you're miles from some goal

Or you're just trying to do what's best

For a kid who's lost control

You do the hard thing

'Cause that's the right thing

Yeah, that's the right thing

Thank you.