What did the speakers at Arlington High School graduation on June 7 have to say? Read the available speeches here:
The old becomes the new
Principal Matthew Janger:
Welcome to the 159th annual graduation ceremony for Arlington High School. Here we are. My role at graduation is to begin the event with acknowledgment, gratitude and (hopefully) a few words of wisdom.
First, I must acknowledge the weather. Thank you to everyone for your patience as we shifted inside. (Comment on the status of the rain) Let’s begin.
We respectfully acknowledge that the Town of Arlington is situated on the ancestral lands of the Massachusett Tribe. This tribe of Indigenous peoples has given its name to our Commonwealth. We honor and pay our respects to the rich history, culture and enduring presence of the Massachusett Tribe and their descendants, who continue to inhabit and uphold their heritage in these territories today.
Please join me in thanking:
● Parents, guardians and family members who support you;
● Teachers and paraprofessionals who have taught and cared for you;
● Administrative team, Mr. DiLoreto, Ms. Tivnan, Mr. McKnight and Mr. Darlington, Mr. O’Brien and Ms. Forsythe, who step in with support and leadership to keep us running;
● Our district leadership, Dr. Homan, Dr. Ford Walker, and our School Committee;
● Our custodial and facilities crew who keep everything running and who set up everything last night for Last Blast only to have to take up the floor, pull out the bleachers and reset everything this morning;
● Our teacher and student volunteers who have helped us get ready after the rain;
● Ms. Donohue and Ms Abdelnour, our yearbook advisers;
● Ms. Toupin, your class adviser;
● Mr. Knowlton, who has led the graduation team this year; and
● I must acknowledge our administrative assistants who make sure we can do our jobs, and who have rallied this month to keep the senior events running smoothly — Morgan Cummings, Jill Broughton, Cathy Meehan, Nancy Caccavaro, Potoula Angelakis and Erika Kuno.
Some firsts
You are the inaugural class. This is the first time in my 12 years at AHS that held graduation indoors because of the weather. This is the first time we have held graduation in this brand new gym.
You were the first class at Gibbs, the first class in Phase 1 of this new building, the first in phase 2, the first in phase 3. At each stage of your education you have seen how we move parts around and build something new. But we have remained Arlington High School. You have become Spy Ponders.
By the time we are done with the fields, and resurfacing the Peirce field, we will have replaced every part of this school facility, but it will still be Arlington High School.
The old becomes the new. While change can be challenging, even scary, it is the way forward, and while we change, we remain ourselves, we are still Arlington High School.
Weather changes speech
I had to change my speech because of the weather. I was going to talk about the temporary walkway that we built to march to graduation? One more thing that was built and will be removed. The temporary bridge to the future. There will be a new pathway next year, with bricks carrying many of your names and messages. The old becomes the new.
I thought it was time to reintroduce our school song. During the construction, we found many old treasures hidden away in the school. In the 1930s, Hassler Einzig wrote a fight song for our school, “The Red and Grey.” (Note, our school colors are a bright maroon red and grey). Many of our older alumni remember singing this at football games.
These alternate lyrics of the song speak of our history, gratitude, hope, perseverance and community. At this time in history, We hear a lot of concern about cynicism, fear and division. It takes perseverance and courage to cross that temporary bridge. The antidote to cynicism is gratitude, the antidote to despair is hope, the antidote to division is community. We will continue to cross this bridge together.
Our former performing arts director, Pasquale Tassone, created this arrangement. You can find the lyrics at the QR code on the back of your program. We will sing it three times through. Join in when you get it.
“The Red and Grey”
We cheer today the Red and Grey
By Spy Pond’s shore we rise.
From Mystic to Menotomy,
We sing with Ponder Pride.
With gratitude for all we share,
And hope for what’s to come,
We fight until the day is won —
Forever Arlington.
We have Travis Scott within us
Vishnu Burra, president of Arlington High’s class of 2025.
Thank you to the class of ’25 for giving me the honor of speaking firstly here today, as your class president. Now I will quickly preface that if you were expecting something short, you clearly haven’t met me, so get comfortable, grab a snack, yogurt, gurt: yo, and let’s commence this commencement.
Now, with that I want to begin with a quote from an esteemed modern-day philosopher and colloquial poet of rhythm, Jacques Bermon Webster II … Travis Scott, who in 2011, on March 5th, at exactly 11:36 p.m., tweeted, “Remember the name Travis Scott. One day Travis Scott will be Somebody.” Now at 34, he’s one of the most acclaimed artists of this century. It’s an old-fashioned notion, I know, but he believed in himself when at 18, and look what happened.
Today, we too have that same power within us. Whether it’s how others will judge us, or how we wish to be perceived by those we admire, I can guarantee everyone here today has faced the despair of “what if,” and that’s the real killer of dreams, not failure. It’s not the failure that keeps one up at night, tossing and turning, it’s the “what if I tried harder,” asked, attempted, wondered, did something different.
So, I urge everyone in this great class here today to try, even if everyone else in society expects you not to. Believe in yourself, and don’t let anyone change that path of yours.
‘You can’t please everyone’
For, if there’s one thing I could tell anyone that I’ve actually learned in high school, it’s that no matter what you do, you can’t please everyone, and sometimes anyone. You’ll always feel unfulfilled in some way, and impact others in many ways you couldn’t even imagine. But still, don’t let that hinder you from wanting to be somebody.
Jim Carrey once stated something I believe encapsulates that idea of hope in oneself perfectly. He articulated that, “my father could’ve been a great comedian, but he didn’t believe that was possible for him, and so he made a conservative choice, choosing a safe job, a secure place as an accountant, and when I was 12 years old, he was let go from that ‘safe job’ and our family had to do whatever we could to survive.
I learned many great lessons from my father, but not the least of which was, you can fail at what you don’t want, so you might as well take a chance on doing what you love now.” We’re so caught up and bogged down by how others view us, that we forget the very reason for why we do such things: it’s for ourselves!
Do what you love, and love what you do. If you fall, fall, you’ll rise the better, but never accept the safe choice to appease those around you. People will always have a problem, and if there isn’t a hurdle in your plans — track-and-field reference Aidan — someone will inevitably instate them.
We can’t alter what others think of us, so don’t let these thoughts stop you from still moving forward, whatever that forward might be. It’s ironic really, we spend the majority of our lives trying to fit in, and be “normal,” but it’s those who we idolize the most that stand “out.”
Take that risk
Go take that risk, whatever that risk might be, just try it, because those who wait for the right moment to take chances will die waiting, so how about we go live a little! Whether that’s taking a gap year, going to your dream school, or accepting something you didn’t initially want — every step teaches you something. As Batman would say, “Why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves back up again.”
Allow failures to occur. Failure shows you were brave enough to take that chance to be great. So before we’re all old like Dr. Janger, let’s try to better our communities and live lives to remember.
So, let’s go class of 2025, and run toward our — on second thought, I’ll save the running and track metaphors for the next guy speaking, trust me; it’ll fit his character better than mine.
So, instead, to conclude I’d like to say that with the advent of AI, and computer-automated technological-whatnots, my faith is still in people I guess, individuals really, and I’m happy to say that for the most part, they haven’t let me down; hence, why I’m standing here today, and moreover, why I hope I haven’t let too many of you down, for through it all, like in the library watching the World Cup, screaming as penalty shoot-outs unfolded, to trips from CVS to Whole Foods, memories in the Pit, first looks at new buildings, sprinters going to nationals in track (Nikolai), and more, our grade was present to witness it all unfold, as one community . . .
Finally, a thank you to all the parents, peers, plus brilliant teachers and adjudicators — like Ms. McLean who have shaped the way my life has gone and will go for the better — well, except Ms. Bassett, but the rest of you though, truly . . . “And in case I don’t see ya again, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight!”
A lesson learned from cross-country
Jack Moir, president of Student Council, class of 2025.
If you have ever met me, you know how much I love cross-country. At the start of the season, I had D1 dreams, but I hadn’t clocked D1 times, which made every race feel like the most important one yet. This passion made it all the more devastating and slightly embarrassing when I pulled my glute in the preseason.
So I committed to rehab, and after weeks of PT and hours of cross-training, I was finally able to gear up for my first race, and we faced a strong Lexington team that we needed to beat in order to eye a league title.
I did everything I normally do before a meet to get dialed in — oatmeal for breakfast, pasta for lunch, race visualization. After introducing our Lexington counterparts to my elbows at the start line, the gun went off. It was a crowded field, and we were chicken-jockeying for position; 400 meters in, and disaster struck. I lost my shoe. I had to make a split-second decision: Do I stop and go back for the shoe? Or do I go forward, pushing off pavement with just a sock on my foot for the next three miles?
I was at the front of a fast-moving pack, and if I turned around to look for my shoe, I knew that the gap would open up too wide for me to get back. I decided I would keep going. I didn’t sit there and hesitate or overanalyze the situation; I just made a call and stuck with it.
Here is the part of the speech where I would love to tell you about my one-shoed victory, a win sure to go down as incredible AHS XC lore. I would tell you that very sock I ran in is hanging in Mr. Bowler’s office right now, like a retired jersey. But, the sad reality is, we lost this race, and I came in last; 20th out of 20 people.
Some of you might say: “It sounds like you committed to the wrong thing,” and to that sentiment: I agree. I made the wrong choice. But I can still say that I am proud I committed to the race. Commitments like these are much-needed tests of mental fortitude, and I walked – or limped – away knowing I gave it my all.
Different commitment, better outsome
Now I would like to tell you about a commitment that I made that had a far better outcome, one that led to me delivering this speech today.
Freshman year, I impulsively decided to run for class council vice president. I knew I wanted to get involved in the school in some way and felt like I’d be a good fit for the position of VP, but I really had no idea the level of commitment it involved.” By the end of that first year, I knew I wanted to dedicate my limited free time to student government and mapped out a plan to be Student Council president my senior year.
It was a lot of early mornings and a lot of late nights, but I credit Student Council with instilling in me important qualities, such as leadership, hard work and problem solving. As a council, our efforts are not to go unnoticed by the AHS community. Our homecomings, winter crafts fairs, pep rallies and teacher-appreciation weeks have been a result of the hard work that Student Council puts in, and have been a success because of your support. I would like to thank my fellow seniors on the council for their commitment:
- Isabella’s work with minigrants, using Battle of the Bands to raise money for clubs to use;
- Leo representing our school ever other Thursday during School Committee meetings; and
- Elena’s work on the excellence binder, helping our council achieve Gold Council of Excellence, a statewide recognition of our hard work. I am extremely grateful to have the opportunity to serve the school, so thank you for letting me see my Student Council commitment all the way through to graduation day.
So my parting message to you is: commit. You won’t know what works until you go all in. I know the time you guys have put into making these choices. You’ve studied hard, taken that one class that was too difficult, trained for your sport, completed your passion project and volunteered for your community.
Now commit to your next adventure: Join that intramural team, take the trip, apply for the job, start that club, register for the class that might break you. Commit to your college, your job, your new life.
But take it from me, you might be so sure you’re committed to the right thing, like I was about leaving the shoe behind, only to find yourself standing in a metaphorical bloody sock. The school, the job, the gap year, they might not be the right fit. Give yourself enough time to change gears, don’t beat yourself up about it, make a new commitment and find out what lies next in store for you. If you give it your all and you feel like you’ve made the wrong choice, you won’t be left with regrets. Reassess the risk, for God’s sake, double-knot your shoes and commit to the next stage of your life.
What Morrison’s ‘Song of Solomon’ taught me
Kathryn Wolfson, honors speaker.
Faculty, staff, friends, family and the Arlington High School class of 2025: I am excited and honored to speak before you today.
In my AP English-literature class with Ms. McLean, the first book we read was “Song of Solomon” by Toni Morrison. If you are unfamiliar with it –and I won’t spoil too much — it is a story with many layers, following main character Milkman as he pursues a journey of self-discovery.
In typical AP lit fashion, we were assigned to write a one-sentence theme describing the entire novel. What initially stuck out to me was the idea that flight is necessary for true independence. Whether this flight means leaving your hometown, embarking on a journey or simply changing something that has always been constant, flying away can unlock parts of our lives that we have yet to discover.
From the familiar to freedom
As we continued analyzing the book in class, it became increasingly clear that Milkman only achieves personal freedom once he steps away from what is familiar.
As graduating seniors, we are all about to experience this flight. We are leaving this school that we have attended across many years, leaving the hallways where one is guaranteed to see a familiar face. We are even flying away from the lifestyles and the routines that we know all too well. And, to be honest, some of us have been anticipating flying away since the day we hit the submit button on college applications.
Yet while this flight is both inevitable and necessary for our strength as adults and community members, we are often caught in a cycle of constantly flying toward the next best thing. I am guilty of this — more than once, I have found myself thinking, “I can’t wait for the next tennis season. I’m so excited for summer.” Or even, “Only a few more months until college.”
How to look ahead
In our school, in our community and even in our world, there appears to be a constant dialogue about the next best development, the newest item we can buy, the futuristic destination. Sometimes, we are so focused on what lies ahead of us that we forget to exist in the moment that we are in.
There is no fault in looking ahead or setting goals, even lofty ones – our future communities and the world as a whole need us now more than ever. But we would not be able to embrace flight, independence or our goals without remembering what ties us to the ground. Just as in “Song of Solomon,” where Milkman uses his family history as a foundation for his journey, I encourage everyone to do the same; to stay connected to those who are close to them, to ask questions, to check in, to make plans if a long time has passed. I encourage everyone to remain connected to the routines that bring joy, the activities that bring people together. We would not be able to fly without the mentorship from our families, our teachers, our coaches and even from each other.
As Morrison confirms, flight is not just about flying away — it’s about remembering those who have kept you grounded. Congratulations to the class of 2025 – I am so proud of us and excited to see where everyone flies. Thank you!
These addresses were published Monday, June 9, 2025.
