Senior Academic Letter Night Speech

Last night I spoke at the award ceremony for seniors receiving the academic letter. Although I was nervous, it was fun, and the entire ceremony was over in less than twenty minutes, which gave us more time to mingle and enjoy cake. It was a great experience for me because I was very nervous, which I needed as a reminder for how my seniors felt today as they gave their senior board speeches.

Here is my speech transcript:

I would like to start by thanking Melissa James for asking me to be here tonight. It is an honor to be here with you all. But I also want to thank all of you for being who you are. I think I can speak for the entire staff of Carson High School when I say that over the last four years, you have brought us a lot of joy with your enthusiasm for life. Looking back on the last four years, I think of the homecoming assemblies, theater productions, musical performances, art shows and athletic competitions in which you have demonstrated your passions.

You have brought us pride by working hard and excelling in what you do – all of you – that’s why you are here tonight. Looking back on the last four years, I think of all the novels you have read, the A.P. government essays you have written, the debate cases you have developed, and the smelly science projects you have completed. You have completed trig problems that look like a foreign language and written essays in an actual foreign language. You have designed web pages in Dream Weaver and architecture in CAD that rival that of professionals in those fields, and you have made us proud with your efforts in your athletic endeavors, knowing that even when you didn’t win, you represented your school with dignity.

You have brought us inspiration by demonstrating kindness and generosity to others. Looking back at the last four years, I think of all the money you have raised for organizations such as the Invisible Children Foundation, the canned foods piled high at Thanksgiving, the adopted families at Christmas time, and more recently the generosity and love you have all shown Mrs. Peton as she prepares for her heart transplant.

But now that you are leaving, you bring us great pride tinged with sadness as we see you leave our small school community to explore the world at large. Our one hope is that you continue your patterns of joy, hard work, compassion and generosity. If you always look to your heart when making a decision, you will not go wrong.

I know you are all being showered with advice right now – everyone wants to tell you what to major in, how to be successful, and what NOT to do at college, but I want to take a moment of your time to share with you the lesson that teaching has continually presented to me. And that is the importance of remembering to always be kind to others because you never know what may be going on that you don’t see.

I am reminded of particular student – Armando – who was in my freshman English class. He was enrolled into my class a month into the school year. I didn’t think to ask why. He rarely smiled. I didn’t think to ask why. He never did his work – in class or at home. I didn’t think to ask why. I did try, however, to get him to work. I first tried joking with him. That didn’t work. I tried befriending him. That didn’t work. Finally I tried being aggressive with him and insisting he do his work. As you can probably imagine, that didn’t work.

Ultimately, I decided to let him be. I reasoned that it was his prerogative to not do his work. But then one day, I assigned an essay written in letter form. Students were to write to their parents asking for something. When I walked past Armando, he said to me, “Miss, I can’t do this assignment.” I wondered why this was different than any other assignment. A few minutes later, he repeated his claim, “Miss, I can’t do this assignment.”

Now, you think by now I might have keyed in to his need to tell me something, but I kept walking.

Finally, Armando asked to talk to me in the hall. There he said to me, “I can’t do this assignment because my dad’s in prison.” And then he paused, “And my mom died of cancer in August.”

At that moment, it became clear to me why Armando wasn’t doing his work. He felt like giving up because he felt life had given up on him.

From that moment on, our relationship changed. I looked forward to seeing Armando every other day. This change was not because of something he did differently, but because I saw him as the human being he was – a person just trying to get by.

Armando is fine now – every now and then he sends word to me about where he is and what he is doing. And I am grateful for those updates and for having known him.

I know that many students have walked in and out of my classroom who have struggled just as Armando had, and I probably never knew it. I stumble a lot with this lesson, but I do try to remember that every person is fighting some battle, and I hope that as you explore the larger world, you make it a better place by always remembering to forgive and to share your time and compassion with others.

Congratulations and thank you.

                 

This weekend . . .

. . . was a blast. I got to attend one of the two single-day retreats by Donald Rothberg. He is one of my favorite teachers because he incorporates interactive activities to the day. While I felt that the second day's topic - Keeping Cool In The Fire: Becoming More Skillful With Inner Or Outer Conflict - was more personally relevant, I was only able to attend the Saturday retreat on Emptiness and Compassion. As it turns out, it was a happy accident, as I found the day enlightening and relevant.

I had previously decided the Buddhist concept of emptiness was beyond me, that okay - if I ever have the opportunity to go deep into practice, that I might get the chance to understand this topic somewhat vaguely.

But alas, Donald made the topic very clear. And this abstract concept is paradoxically kind of simple. He defines emptiness as no self without interdependence, meaning that we as individuals and our experiences do not exist without the myriad of other elements that play into/build upon the "self" and its experiences.

I try to come up with examples, but they fall flat, so let's just leave it at that. I feel very grateful to have had the opportunity to spend the day with such loving, compassionate people and to learn so much in so short a time. Plus, I meditated today for forty minutes, which I never do at home. It was a breeze. The day-longs definitely further my practice.

Meanwhile, DH and I attended a party sans kids, which we haven't done in YEARS. It was a blast hanging out with friends where none of us had to change a diaper, settle a dispute, leave at 7 p.m. for bedtime, or wipe a nose.

Today was productive. The kids spent the night at my MIL's house, which meant I was able to work on Rosalind's costume, clean my car, do laundry, go to lunch DH and meditate all without interruption.

I feel very lucky to have the life I have.

Jewelry

Our 8th anniversary is approaching, and my husband has suggested that he buy me a piece of jewelry that I pick out. My first thought: "I'd rather get a new iPod." I'm not sure what this says about me, if anything.

I have never been a big jewelry person. I like costume jewelry, you know - the kind that isn't locked up behind glass in department stores. But even the most expensive item in my jewelry box, the wedding ring I have literally outgrown, is only worth a couple hundred dollars.

Right before Rosalind was born, I read King Leopold's Ghost, a book about the Dutch colonization of what we now call Congo. Cutting off a hand was often punishment in the diamond mines. The picture of a Congolese man and his son both missing a hand still haunts me today. It wasn't just their missing hands that bothered me, but also the thought of what the father went through when his son's hand was cut off that disturbed me. Since then, diamonds have not only not appealed to me, but they have also come to represent something sinister to me. Unlike Kanye West who sings in "Diamonds from Sierre Leone" about his attempt to reconcile his desire for "bling" with his desire to do no harm to his African brethren, I don't desire diamonds at all.

This isn't to say that I'm not greedy and that I don't want things. That would be wholly dishonest. I want electronic gadgets, books, crafting supplies, a new bike, clothes, a kid-free vacation, and some salad plates. And a hybrid car, but that will have to wait a couple years.

The question I often consider is whether those kinds of images - of people with missing hands, of dead animals, of destroyed or polluted environments - exist behind the objects I so happily purchase: patterned paper, flip flops, Revlon lip gloss, printer cartridges. If I knew that was the case, would I stop buying these items? Could I know it? Would I choose to know it?

Meanwhile, I have to decide whether to or not I should take my husband up on his offer and avoid the diamond aisle altogether or to suggest a different route, like maybe a love letter. Or a bike. Or a new iPod.