Here are five addresses presented at the 2016 commemncement exercises at Arlington High School on June 6, 2016, at Peirce Field.
Sum up life by looking at the whole
Alice Tracey, honors speaker
I’d like to thank my fellow graduates, the Arlington High School faculty and all the friends and family who have come to support the class of2016. I’m so honored to have the opportunity to speak today.
It wasn’t easy for me to write this speech. When I first sat down in front of my laptop to start writing, I ended up staring blankly at the screen for an hour, because I had no idea where to start.
So, like any good student would, I Googled “graduation speech ideas.” To my disappointment, the results were very unhelpful. Most of the websites I looked at listed passive-aggressive tips, such as, “Remember to be original,” “Make sure your speech is really inspiring” and, my favorite, “Your speech should be true to you, but remember to never talk about yourself!”
My Google search left me with more writer’s block than I’d started with. That’s why you shouldn’t depend on the Internet to answer your homework questions.
I think what made the writing difficult is the fact that we’re all so different. It’s hard to write something that the whole class can connect to and appreciate, when all of us have had a unique set of high school experiences.
The class of 2016 is enormously diverse in backgrounds, interests, beliefs and personalities.
We’ll all go on to do different things; we represent future writers, scientists, builders, teachers, engineers, lawyers, musicians, politicians, doctors, artists, activists and more. In high school, we’ve been involved in a range of activities.
Some of us play sports, some of us participate in the performing arts, some of us take part in clubs. We all spend our free time differently, too, and have varying hopes, passions and values. Each of us has experienced high school in a singular way. We’ve taken individual paths in navigating classes, extracurriculars, socialization and adolescence in general.
Those paths are sometimes easy, sometimes rough and oftentimes both good and bad. I’m sure there are some seniors sitting here today trying to soak up as many memories with their high school friends as possible, while others can’t wait to get out of Massachusetts.
Considering all this variety, the thread that binds us together as a class isn’t particularly apparent. In reflecting on who we are as a student body, I’m reminded of something I learned in one of my favorite — but also most challenging — classes, biology with Dr. Scott.
During the second year I had her as a teacher, we studied the theory of emergence. Wikipedia gives a very wordy definition for “emergence,” describing it as “a process whereby larger entities, patterns, and regularities arise through interactions among smaller or simpler entities that themselves do not exhibit such properties.”
Dr. Scott put it much more simply. She explained emergence using the mantra, “One plus one does not equal two.” Essentially, “emergence” means that an assembled group of objects is more than the sum of its parts. When things come together, they interact and communicate and form something new, none of which a single object could do by itself.
When Dr. Scott brought up “emergence,” she was referencing the way that individual cells collaborate to create the complexity of a living thing. Take a plant, for instance. The fascinating structure of the plant is an emergent property. The plant cells exert force on one another, forming a rigid shape. As water evaporates through the leaves of the plant, the pressure differential creates a pull that moves water from the ground up the stem.
A single plant cell cannot draw water from the ground, but cooperation between cells gives the plant the ability to defy gravity.
In a similar way, I think we are much more than a random conglomeration of high schoolers. We’re not all alike one another. We don’t all know each other, or even like each other. But taken as a whole, the class of 2016 is a dynamic, resilient organism.
We each bring our individual talents and personalities to create a student body that reflects a huge array of wonderful attributes. This class has experienced external threats — tragedy, stress and more — but adapts and modifies itself in response. Just as each plant cell is essential to the overall function of the plant, each of us contributes something to the larger entity.
And, though I understand that not maybe not everyone here is bursting with Ponder pride, I do know that together, we foster a spirit of community and shared accomplishment simply because we’ve been through and graduated high school as a group.
As we leave Arlington High School behind and move forward with our lives, I think it’s important to remember that our collective experience is just as valuable as our individual experiences.
Graduation can be a celebration of the achievements of single students, but it’s also a way to acknowledge that, whether we like it or not, we are all crucial parts of a larger community.
The greatness of the class of 2016 is an emergent property. We’re a pretty arbitrary collection of students, and all of us are different; together, though, we form something amazing.
So, if you remember anything from this speech, let it be that one plus one doesn’t equal two. Your math teachers were extremely wrong. Thank you!
Decide what makes you happy — and pursue it
George West, honors speaker, president of the class of 2016
Only five hours ago, I was sitting down in my cozy bean-bag chair with a pad and pen, just hoping an idea would hit me. I stared out the window watching the birds fly free, a dog squat down to do his business and my little neighbors playing a bizarre game involving a bucket, a foam sword, a tennis ball and their cat.
Did I have any idea what game they were playing, then or now?
Absolutely not.
However, what I did know was that they didn’t acknowledge just how strange their mötley crüe appeared to an outsider’s eye, because those three little boys were having the time of their lives. And that’s when it hit me. “It” being a mantra that I always had known and tried to live by, but couldn’t quite formulate into coherent words.
But now, I think those ingenious toddlers have evoked more than just curiosity out of me.
“DO what makes YOU happy.” Yes I know, it is much easier said than done.
But, next year, whether you are taking a gap year, attending a new school (preparatory or university), or going straight into the workforce, do not make your decision based on what others want you to do. You owe it to yourself to be as happy as you can be and enjoy what you do, especially after Arlington Public Schools have tried its darndest to s**k that joy out of you.
Now, going back to something I’m sure many of you questioned, did this kid seriously wait till the day of graduation to finally get going?
Well, I’ll be honest with you all. I have been a procrastinator my whole life. Seriously. I even procrastinated birth, coming out of the womb two weeks after my mother was due (Shout out to Amy).
But I won’t always be a procrastinator.
I will defy the saying, “Once a procrastinator, always a procrastinator,” as I am sure all of you will with whatever unfavorable trait you may possess.
We are diving head first into a very turbulent time in our lives, where opportunities will present themselves, and we can make the choices to tum the page.
You decide what you are going to do. You decide where you are going to do it.
And most importantly, you decide why you are doing it.
So please, as you kiss Arlington High School goodbye for one last time, I ask of you to do what makes you happy and become the person you’ve always dreamed of becoming, whether it’s the first person on Mars, or the next person tinkering with my engine.
Or as Barbie said it best, “Be who you want to be, Barbie Girl.”
Of a bike, lost and found — and empathy
Vignesh Chockalingam, president of the Student Council
Before I begin, I want to thank my parents. I am who I am and I am where I am because of you. I also want to congratulate the Class of 2016 on making it to this day.
A few weeks ago on a regular Wednesday morning, I discovered that my bike was gone. Well later that week on Saturday morning, I get a call from my mom and she tells me that my brother saw my bike — a bright green bike; it’s hard to miss — on Mass. Ave.
I drop what I’m doing and begin sprinting to discover my bike, same dents same modifications, sitting on Mass. Ave. I’m jubilated.
But then I see that it’s locked up. It’s ironic, because this lock is much, much nicer than the one I used to lock my bike up.
After getting some advice from a stranger who became surprisingly invested in my problem, I call the police and within minutes two policemen arrive and ask me some questions. They say they believe me, but need some sort of proof that the bike is mine.
To the rescue comes Mark Chockalingam, my father, the man with the proof of purchase. One of the policemen then calls the fire department and tumbling down Mass. Ave, sirens blazing, comes a fire truck, and out jump six men.
They walk over, line up, and each proceeds to feel the bike lock, as if it’s some sacred talisman. Then they pull out this beast of a machine, a hydraulic bolt cutter that one of the policemen tells me the guys at the fire department have been waiting to try out for weeks.
A crowd builds up to witness some their heroism, and in a burst of sparks and cheers, the lock breaks and my bike is free.
In a world that at times appears selfish and unempathetic, I was reminded that there are many people who will help another. While someone out there stole my bike, there were multiple others ready to right that wrong: one stranger, two policemen and six firemen.
If the math skills Mr. Werst gave me are still there, that means nine people took it upon themselves to reunite a random kid with his bike.
What I’m talking about is empathy.
We all come from different pasts and inhabit vastly different presents. But something, some one of a kind ability within the human mind made a stranger ask me if I was doing OK and if I needed help. Something made a policeman believe a kid standing on the side of the street with a story.
We live in a country and world where everyone is different. And it is so, so difficult to be an always kind, always empathetic individual. I won’t try to tell you that I’m someone who donates to every charity or smiles at every stranger.
It’s our default setting to be individuals acting individually. It’s our default setting to hate those who do us wrong and ignore any rationalization of their wrongdoings.
It’s easy to get lost in the monotonous rush of 9-to-5 life and be angry at a cold and dark world. But imagine if we can transcend that. Imagine if we could do just a little better. Imagine all of the lost bikes we could find.
In a world in which it is so easy to put your head down, listen to your music and ignore the plight of your fellow man or woman, I ask you to look up. To be aware. I ask you to lock up your bikes. I ask you to choose to live an empathetic life.
Don’t just do a ‘good job’
Faculty speaker Justin Bourassa, a teacher of English
The last time I heard someone say “good job” was just Thursday night in Yume wo Katare: that ramen shop in Porter square. The owner, Nishioka-San, had just “congratulated” a customer who had eaten all of their noodles, but hadn’t been able to handle their soup, vegetables, and pork – you know, half the meal. He screamed out “GOOD JOB!” and the person sat there, tongue scalded, pride wounded, blushing, having received the false “good job” praise. If you haven’t been, he does that for every single bowl of ramen he serves: “Good Job!” Or, “Perfect!” Or, “Next Time …”
Now, if we disregard the fact that I’m a card-carrying member of the clean bowl club with a perfect 9/9 record at Yume wo Katare, the thing that really sits with me, perhaps better than any bowl of ramen sits with my stomach, is the idea that Nishioka San is so positive – Yume wo Katare means “talk about your dreams”. He runs a soup store that literally wants you to share your dreams! The other thing that sits with me, though, having been traded to Japan for a teacher to be named later – is that I know that in Japanese, there is no direct translation for ”good job.” The joke was on Arlington, by the way, because the teacher they got in return for me, was, well, me, two years later.
So there’s no “good job” in Japanese. I learned this the hard way. Every day, leaving Nagaokakyo city office, my fellow part-time coworkers would bow and recite some sort of majestic farewell to their superiors and supervisors. The superiors and supervisors would in turn shout something else right back, in what I imagined was some kind of honorable ritual harkening back to the days when samurai and shoguns ruled the feudal lands:
“Until tomorrow, honorable leaders!”
“Farewell! Good job today!” Something like that.
I asked what my coworkers were saying, and my handler, Saitoh-San, simply told me how to pronounce the phrase: “osakini shitsureishimasu!” So I started saying it every day. This tickled my supervisors, some of whom spoke English, most of whom did not. Every day I’d leave and call out “osakini shitsureishimasu” and every day they’d bow and send me off the same way they did the Japanese part timers: bowing and shouting something else in turn.
Eventually, I found out that “Osakini shitsureishimasu” wasn’t inappropriate, but did effectively translate to “Sorry I’m leaving before you” with an implied “salary chumps” at the end.
Now, in Japan, if you’re a salaried worker, you stay at work every day until your boss tells you you can go home. Which means that even if you’ve finished all your work, if he’s being really stubborn and refuses to just deal a new hand of Solitaire even though you all know that there’s literally nothing in the world he can do to win this one, you just gotta ride the storm out, and hope that he wins – or quits – so you can make the last train home.
I was effectively yelling “later, fools!” to my bosses every day, who were not graciously beaming with pride about how I did a “good job.” They were saying “otsukare samadeshita” which, loosely means “Leaving already, huh? You must be tired from all the hard work you did today.” Wow.
Who was the fool now?
I kept saying it, though, because everyone else was doing it.
Back in the States, I’m sure I probably say it as often as the next person, but the very idea of telling someone “good job” is sort of silly. It’s an expression like “you win some, you lose some!” This statement, of course, is true. You do win some and you do lose some. But when was the last time someone won and said “you win some you lose some?”
So often we say “good job,” and so often we crave hearing it, we seek it out, even though we know that “good job” doesn’t mean much anymore. It’s like Inigo Montoya says: “You keep using that whord, I do-not think it means what you think it means.”
I guess this is what I’m getting at today: I’m not going to stand here and tell you “good job” because, well, you haven’t done a “good job.” Yet. But more importantly, you should never let yourself be defined simply by doing a “good job.” “Good job” is something you write on a peer revision. When you’re bad at peer revision. “Good job.” “Nice … Margins.” It’s like calling out common nouns: “Pancakes” “concrete” “tricolor quinoa” – at least help me make a shopping list if you’re not going to give me constructive feedback … I don’t know why I have concrete on there, but that’s not the point.
My point is, don’t settle for doing a “good job,” and don’t let doing a “good job” define you.
Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s great to have a “good job.” I love my “good job.” Look at me, I get to work on Saturdays. Thanks, guys! This is great! Having a “good job” rules, man!! I have a salary! The whole Japan thing is really coming full circle here ….
Talking about jobs, of course, whatever your job is, you should still try. Try. Just try at your job! I’m not saying don’t do your job well … I’m challenging every one of you to not settle for a “good job,” but to find a career, or better yet a vocation, or a calling. Answer that call, whatever it may be. Whether it’s the military, or the workforce, or college, or being a celebrity on tumblr, or teaching, be bigger and better than just someone who just does a “good job”; Be passionate. Be kind. Be warm. Be loving. Be selfless.
Make things. Make memories. Make mistakes. Apologize and mean it. Forgive people. Be an effective communicator. Talk to people. Listen to people. Share stuff. Make people laugh. I’ve never heard someone say “good job” at any of those things… “Good job being in love”; “good job being a U.S. Marine”; “good job making that guy laugh.” Yeah, you, guy! The world has enough people judging you and trying to bring you down already. Don’t settle for being defined by “good job,” especially for the things that really matter. Don’t confuse doing a “good job” at living with being “well-lived.”
And just like you should never confuse “good job” with “well lived,” you should never confuse value with worth. Regardless of whatever your bank statement may say regardless of what your future employer may value your job at dollars-wise, every single one of you sitting before me here is worth so much more than any “good job” pays. You’re invaluable. I’ve told you this before: you’re invaluable. You’re so very worth it.
Every single one of you. And if you doubt it, take a look behind me. All these people are here because they love you! We love you! Because you’re worth it! But you gotta share it. Share that worth with others. I recognize now, years after being traded to Japan for myself: I didn’t just do a good job . But what I did was totally worth it – making friends and studying language and cultures and making and capturing unique memories that I’ll hold onto forever. But in both teaching English as a second -and as a first- language, and in the grand scheme of my life, I haven’t done a “good job.” At least not yet; I’m just getting started. At least I hope I’m just getting started.
Ms. Begin told me I had 5:00 minutes or I was dead, so if we’re being honest, I’m not actually doing a “good job”. I’m actually doing a pretty bad job. But it’s so worth it, Like you guys!
In any event, just as I am just getting started, on this commencement day, you, too, are just getting started. So start. Get out there. Live. Love. Give every bit of yourself to everything you do and every one of the people you meet: the ones you love, the ones you like, the ones you pretend to like, the ones you have to invite to your wedding for some reason, the ones you stalk on Insta, even the ones who drive you crazy-Paul-Stokes-and-Griffin-Lessell, and even the ones who hurt you – especially them, because even though there is no final exam in life, everything counts, and there is no extra credit.
So while you head your separate ways, smirking your part-time employee “sorry I’m leaving before you, bro” smirks as you slink away this afternoon, know that I’ll tag you right back, and mean it when I say: “You must be sooooo tired from all your hard work, wow.” You have worked hard. Kind of. Some of you. This week. But you’re nowhere near done.
Now. This class knows too well that life is not fair. This class knows what loss means. But just like you shouldn’t let “good job” – or anyone else – define you, don’t let your loss define you. Never let your identity be defined by what you don’t have. Instead, continue celebrating those memories of those bright and shining moments – and people – in your lives. Whether you’re thinking about Catherine in particular or not, never let yourself be defined by what you don’t have. Celebrate what – and especially who – you do.
And in celebrating, get out there and do more than whatever it takes to hear “good job”: Live well. So that whenever your time comes, each of you can look back on a life well-lived, not just here at Arlington High School, but over the course of your entire life, knowing that the bowl of ramen that is your legacy will be called out by Nishioka-san for what it really was: not with a half-consumed, half-wasted, palliative “GOOD JOB!”, but with the only words he’s ever called out to me: “PERFECT!”
Thank you, I’ll miss all of you. If it’s all right with Dr. Bodie and Dr. Janger, I’m going to go take a nap. Congratulations, everyone, you’ve done … yourselves proud.
Our graduates are worth education’s price
Jennifer Susse, chair, School Committee
This is exciting for me. In only three short years, I will be out there among you parents, watching my eldest graduate Arlington High. And I will be just as happy, excited, proud, and perhaps a little nervous, as you are today.
For the graduating seniors, and for many parents, this is the end of your tenure with the Arlington Public Schools. Whether you started as a 3-year-old in our preschool program, or just joined us this past year, I hope you look back on your time with us with fond memories.
Likely there were challenges along the way as well.
You have been helped to meet those challenges by many many people — by the teacher or coach who pushed you to achieve something you didn’t know you were capable of, by the principal and administrator who worked hard to make the school run seamlessly, by the neighbor who picked you up from school and ferried you to activities, and by the amazing strength of your parents, grandparents, and other caregivers.
They are the ones who sat with you at the kitchen table as you struggled with a math assignment, who served as room parents, helped out at a book fair, donated to the PTO, or brought flowers for teacher appreciation day. The people who are special in your life did all this because they love you and want you to succeed, but in helping you they also helped all of our students, because they made the Arlington School community stronger, more vibrant, and more nurturing than it would otherwise have been.
Today we celebrate our graduating seniors, but we also offer thanks to the community that has supported these students along the way. I especially want to offer the appreciation of the Arlington School Committee for your continual financial support for one of the most important communal responsibilities that we have — educating our children.
As our enrollment continues to increase, and as we go through the high school-building process, we will need to go to the community several times for additional financial support (in fact this June 14 is one such time). It is true that education is expensive, but the graduates standing here today offer proof that it is worth the price.
Thank you again for everything you have done to support, enhance, and strengthen education in Arlington.
These addresses were published Sunday, June 5.
