The Class of 2012. How long have we heard these words applied to us? Long years starting with broken crayons in kindergarten to inside-out sweatshirts in middle school to late English essays — 13 years of learning from the simplest counting to complicated algebra and calculus, from reciting our ABCs to reading Shakespeare. Imagine, us coming out of our respective middle schools into this monster of a campus. With three times as many people — people who drive. People who have cars and are legal adults. We’ve been here for four years. Count the quarters: there are 16 of them. Remember freshmen year: that infatuation with older students, and how being friends with a senior gave you immeasurable social status? There were some sophomores who didn’t tease us for being freshmen, and we clung to them. Remember walking in late to every class on the first day of school, and maybe the second... maybe the third... Every morning we rode the yellow school bus. Our first pep assembly was amazingly loud and we walked out half-deaf. The cheerleaders were trying to get us to shout something, alter we figured out it was "double-oh." Remember when our "commitment to graduation" banner was stolen out of the library? And that first last, day of school: promising to meet everyone again come September. Four down, 12 to go. Sophomore year. Well, maybe by the time we were sophomores we may not have been completely settled into our own high-school persona but at least we knew where we were. And maybe, that first day of school, we still were late to every single class. We learned the meaning of the word “sophomoric” that year, and teased the freshmen, getting some symbolic retribution for what the sophomores did to use the year before. Eventually... ... middle of paper ... ...ers ago, so were we. Yesterday has passed. Now we stand on the brink of adulthood. We have counted the cost, we’ve counted the quarters and paid the price, we’ve paid four years. Sixteen quarters. Right now we all have a legacy that we’ve left on Ayer High School, a legacy developed from four years of walking down the halls, eight semesters of sitting in the classrooms and sixteen quarters of developing our personalities. We were the anxious freshmen, the obnoxious sophomores, the lazy juniors and the graduating seniors. But, in 10 years, who are we going to be? Will we still drink Sobes, Jones or Yogochinos? Have the same wallpaper on our computer monitors? Will we still fly out at any hour of the night to go to Dick’s or Taco Bell? Whatever the answers, what we’ve each learned here will remain at the core of the people we become. We are the Class of 2006.
McCullough, intertwines logos and pathos to emphasize the importance of doing things for self–enrichment, instead of the established ideal of competition. These students are not the first ones, last ones, or only ones to graduate high school in Massachusetts. He lists, “no fewer than 3.2 million seniors are graduating about now from more than 37,000 high schools. That’s 37,000 valedictorians, 37,000 class presidents...2,185,967 pairs of Uggs”. He drives
To the County High School Class of 2012: As you sit in front of me, I know what most of you are thinking at the moment. There are those who are already pondering about what life without high school will be like; those who are debating whether or not to tell your crush tonight about your whispers of adoration you’ve secretly held for four years; some simply want to get out of that ungodly chair, get that thing that isn’t really a diploma but only tells you when to pick up the thing, and then be the first one on the green bus to the grad party — you know who you are. And the rest, well, the rest aren’t even paying attention, you’re thinking, “Great, here comes one of the valedictorian speakers. Next up: a boring speech straight out of the pits of scholarly hell.” And it’s OK, I don’t mind — that sort of thing comes with the territory. But tonight, I ask that you give me a chance to break that stereotype so that I may address you in the full splendor that you deserve after 13 grueling years of work. I do not want to be known as your “valedictorian” as I stand here, c’mon guys, there is no time left to place labels on people anymore, instead I ask that you accept me as one of your peers — and as a man who will enjoy becoming a graduate alongside you.
When I was in elementary school, I loved to read. I was a total nerd back then ... okay maybe I still am, but one thing has changed. Now I don't so much like reading. My favorite poet was Shel Silverstein, who wrote "Where the Sidewalk Ends." He seemed like he was a total hippie, but that's cool because I like hippies. My grandma is a recovering hippie. I like her too. Anyway, Shel Silverstein wrote about the coolest things. He wrote about magical erasers, eating whales and a boy with long hair flying away from people who were taunting him. He captured all of the things that I loved without knowing that I actually loved them. Now you may ask, how does this hippie relate to our graduation? Well, he wrote a poem entitled "Traffic Light" and this is how it goes:
Walking into Walnut Hills High School right now would have anyone thinking the just walked into the middle of a tornado. Everyone you look there are students running in and out of doors, in and out of cars, and most certainly either turning in missing assignments or retaking tests. There is only one way for you to explain all this ciaos, Senior Year, the year that all teens await with so much excitement and ambition and the year that every single hour long study dates pays off. For the class of 2021 this isn’t just their final year at Walnut Hills this is the year that friends separate and head off to their different university to follow their dreams.
High school is meant to be the time of your life, but for most seniors just like me it can be some of the most emotional and crazy time. The things in my past make me who I am today, and the things I do now are the first footsteps into the future. I’ve learned a lot about myself in these past four years, and I still have so much learning to do. This is my high school story; the good, bad, and the ugly.
Good evening. Some of you out there may not realize this but those of you who attended Suntime Middle School have been with this guy for the last seven years. I would like to ask you all, not just Suntime Middle School grads and who all else, to join me in thanking Mr. Weather for his patience and dedication to the success of our education over the years. We are the Class of 2000. The first graduating class of the new millennium. The past four years have been pretty wild. We started out as a bunch of rats in a small cage, but as time went by we learned and matured and became big rats in a new small cage, but in any case, the cage door is now opening; the handlers turning us wild things loose. As we leave "Where the Wild Things Are," home to some of the best cat fights, fist fights and food fights this side of the Cascades, I have a little surprise for all of you sitting in front of me here tonight in your caps and gowns … we ain’t seen nothing yet!
8th grade, 8th grade from the opening day to the signing of the yearbooks. This is the year of memories, goodbyes, and regrets. 8th grade and I’m still realizing that there are people in the world that would die to go to a school like this. A school where every body knows everyone’s name, respects everyone, and where violence and fighting are about as common as the Yankees missing the playoffs. When I’m done with my homework and go to bed, as the days of 8th grade wind down, summer will come and go, and I will find myself in one of those giant, scary places called high school.
Over the past four years, we have grown from insecure, immature freshmen to successful, focused and confident young adults. This incredible transformation has been the result of our entire high school experience. Everything from that first homecoming game, to late night cramming, to the last dance at prom. These experiences have pulled us together as a class and we have learned to love and respect our fellow classmates.
Senior year. The year known for its “lasts” of everything and the start of one 's adulthood. It’s also a busy part of life- college applications, college acceptance, graduation, and even get to know what the terminal disease “senioritis” feels like. Senior year is the last year that I will get the chance to cheer on the football team every Friday night, running track every Thursday, as well as seeing my favorite teachers on a day to day basis. This year is my year, the year that is going to change everything that I have ever known. Senior year is the year that will impact myself, my friends, my family, as well as everyone that surrounds me. It will be the year of change.
“In a study entitled “The Lost Opportunity of Senior Year: Finding a Better Way," released in 2001, the commission found that for many students, that year "becomes party-time rather than a time to prepare for one of their most important life transitions. ... Many students reported 'ditching ' senior classes because the atmosphere encouraged them to consider senior year a farewell tour of adolescence and school." The commission also suggested that senioritis may, in fact, be most pervasive among the "best and the
Being Marefat's first graduating class to complete all four years, one can say we've acquired a higher level of school wisdom than any previous class. We've formed traditions, we've set records, and we've made a lot of friends along the way. I remember our freshman year when we could use the excuse of being a new school for every shortcoming we encountered. I remember our sophomore year, the last time I cleaned my bedroom, when Marefat had its first senior class, and the school seemed to shrink for some reason. Last year we were the juniors, and we conquered the SAT tests: And made it through those busy days where you hadn't quite found room in your schedule to pencil in a bathroom break, dinner or sleep. Well, this year we were the kings and queens, there was Star Wars, Starbucks, and a certain football team lost its winning streak to the mighty Knights. Looking back we can see our accomplishments and the marks we made. Now, we must take all that we have learned in our years at Marefat and apply it to our future. Just as we have set traditions here, we must enter the world ready to tackle new problems and work out new solutions. We are the ones who can break all of those records that have been set, and have our names etched in history. It's our turn -- the world is ours and we just have to decide what we want to do with it.
Let’s flash back in time to before our college days. Back to then we had lunch trays filled with rubbery chicken nuggets, stale pizza, and bags of chocolate milk. A backpack stacked with Lisa Frank note books, flexi rulers, and color changing pencils. The times where we thought we wouldn’t make it out alive, but we did. Through all the trials and tribulations school helped build who I am today and shaped my future. From basic functions all the way to life-long lessons that helped shape my character.
It is probably a mistake that I am standing here giving a speech for graduation. In fact it is probably a mistake that I am even graduating from this school at all -- believe me, just as most people in this class I have tested the limits of attendance, of sleeplessness, and of procrastination. At the beginning of my high schooling, I was even testing dropping out ... and if that wasn't a mistake, I don't know what was. After four years of Starr altering our minds, it seemed most fitting for me to spend my four minutes talking about mistakes. Thank goodness for them, by the way -- it is only when we truly screw up big time that we are ever stopped in our tracks -- stopped, briefly, to learn lessons of worth.
Imagine it is one’s first day in high school. Standing in front befalls the entrance way to your new future, thinking of what lies ahead from the perspective of a middle school grad. One would perhaps have mixed emotions as to what to expect. Observing the new students around the corridors, it transpires as if they are dragging their feet to progress inside, for the reason that they are fresh from the blissful summer days; they are in exchange, yet again, to the reality of school homework, projects, reports and tests. Some have queries and doubts in their minds; what does one expect of themselves getting into a high school life such as this? “What remains in store for me, I wonder…” “This school year is going to be subsequently much tougher
You know, it is really strange how quickly time passes, after spending my whole childhood wishing I was an adult, now here we are and it's a little hard to grasp. It feels like just yesterday I was standing here in the same position at eighth grade graduation. Ahh, middle school, such a joyous time for all of us, free of maturity and not a care in the world. The biggest decisions I ever had to make then was deciding which group to stand with at passing time and choosing which shirt from my extensive collection of Stussy and No Feat apparel to wear. We were all naive to the danger that lurked just around the corner. We were unaware that the carefree world we lived in was about to come crashing to the ground in a blazing inferno of real school work and responsibility ... otherwise known as high school.