Miraculously Unlame

daybydaze:

“[R]e-examine all that you have been told at church at school or in any book … “ Walt Whitman, Preface to Leaves of Grass

In less than forty-eight hours you will be graduates, and the next ninety-six will become a blur, a frenetic pace of activity and gatherings and conversations. Ostensibly, you will be asked questions, and for better or worse, the same question will be asked over and over again. These people who ask the same question aren’t trying to insult you. Probably they are feeling just as awkward as you feel. If they offer advice, I pray it’s better advice than Benjamin Braddock received in The Graduate, but probably not. And so I replace the word “Plastics” with Apple and Facebook.

Take the time to relish in your achievements, but know that in three months you and your life “start all over again in the crisp fall” (Fitzgerald). When you drive onto your campus in August or September, make us proud; make your parents proud, but most of all make yourselves proud.

Take a class that’s far removed from your comfort zone just because you can. You may learn something that becomes a passion for you. If you don’t know what your major is, that’s okay. And even if you think you know what you’re major is, but then you find yourself confused, that’s okay, too. You can change it. Colleges and universities are supposed to impart knowledge. So argues the essayist and intellectual John Henry, Cardinal Newman, “Knowledge is capable of being its own end … that any kind of knowledge, if it be really such, is its own reward.”

To that end, I trust that you will “re-examine” everything that you have been taught here. Push boundaries; disagree with a premise; enter into a counter-argument, but in doing so, never lose sight of the grace and tenderness and passion that brought you that point. Read Kierkegaard and Nietzsche side by side; listen to John Cage after having written a paper to Bach’s Goldberg Variations; attend your university’s theatre productions; join a club and be an active member; attend the campus lecture series; see a band or two or three; sit on the lawn and sunbathe; learn to throw a Frisbee; if heading east, make a snowman; if staying west, have snow sent to you; take a road trip with friends; skip a class to finish a philosophical conversation between and among friends; converse passionately about the merits of Bon Iver, The Weepies, The Shins, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and PHISH; attend at least one of every sporting event your university offers; play intramurals; talk to the girl or boy that just made you turn your head; take pictures, but you don’t need to post all of them to Facebook; experiment, but judiciously; As Tennyson urges, “drink life to the lees”; hug a friend; listen to your college radio station; try the house special; tailgate; send a handwritten letter home every once in a while; above all else, learn to think for yourself.

Be who you want to be, and if that doesn’t agree with you, then find, once again, your center, your inner voice; don’t settle for an imitation of yourself. Bend the rules, but try not to break them.

And as you wander your campus looking for the person you thought you wanted to become, the person you are, or the person you wish you knew, understand that you will always have a home here at Harker. More importantly, you will always have a home with the parents who, eighteen years ago, wept tears of joy bringing the son or daughter into the world and who ache with pride at the person you are today and blush with expectation at what the next chapter of your life will bring.

You may not necessarily always get along with them, understand their motives, or even comprehend the weight of the love they hold for you, but you are always loved by your parents.

I close with the following, at the end of Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Road—a novel which I encourage you to read and return to countless times in your lives just as you should Homer’s Odyssey and Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. In the novel, the father, towards the end, pleads:  “You need to go on. I can’t go with you. You need to keep going. You don’t know what might be down the road. We were always lucky. You’ll be lucky again. You’ll see. Just go. It’s all right.”

As you go out into the wide world, seniors, it will be good; you will be all right. You don’t always have to be the best, but you should always do your best.

Thank you and good night.

- Jason Berry, high school English teacher and phenomenal writer

(Source: eatsleeprepeattt)

Graduation…the day that felt so far away is now upon me in a mere couple of hours.

I wanted to do a post reflecting on high school, but honestly, I’ve reflected so much in the last few days I don’t really know what else to say.

I guess, ultimately, Harker, you’ve been good to me. It’s been eight years, and I’ve grown and changed more then I could ever imagine in the best of ways. I am who I am because of my experiences here, and I am forever grateful because of that.

Thanks for a wonderful run that let me meet some of the best people ever and I hope life is this kind to me in the future.

escapisttendency:

I am leaving at 5:45 AM for Laguna Beach tomorrow.

Everything still has this hazy, third-person feel to it, because I still don’t think I’ve fully processed that it’s my turn now.

excessivelytenacious:

Dear Ms. Hall,

I want to sincerely thank you for putting up with me these last few years. I know my record with tardies has not been the best, but walking into Dobbins Office seeing you with a perpetual smile is always reassuring. It would be wrong of me to continue, however, without apologizing for my weak immune system, for which you’ve had to hear (probably far too many times) the voice of my mother explaining my illness-related absences.

I’m really going to miss hearing the phone ring in the middle of a class, soon followed by the familiar “Akshay, Dobbins Office wants to see you.” My heart would always jump in fear: how many detentions would it be this time? Am I finally going to get that dreaded Saturday Five I’ve been trying to avoid? But deep down in my heart, there was always a lingering hope: I knew I had an ally on the other side; I knew Ms. Hall was watching my back. Ultimately, I was indeed lucky enough to escape the worst. Thanks to your compassion and willingness to forgive, I closely escaped, on multiple occasions, receiving a Saturday five, being made to speak with the higher authorities, and other unutterable chastisements.

I’ve probably sat in detention in every teacher’s room on campus. And regarding this, I can’t say I have no regrets; I’ve had to give up far more after school social gatherings than I’d like, but there has certainly been a silver lining. Through the detentions you bestowed upon me, I was given the privilege of meeting some remarkable individuals, some of whom have remained my best friends to this day. I’ve learned a lot from the time I’ve spent between 3:45 and 4:45 after school (did you know rooms on the left side of downstairs Nichols are distinctly more humid than those on the right side?), so for this I want to sincerely thank you.

It is said that the time you lose in your youth is time you can never get back. Entering high school, I wholeheartedly believed this was true. I was a naïve freshman, seeking to take advantage of every moment and live life to the fullest. Ms. Hall, you have taught me that life isn’t necessarily about seeking out memorable experiences; sometimes, even when you’re sitting in a dreary corner of campus wishing you were elsewhere, life will surprise you.

Written by one of my classmates as part of an extra credit assignment ahahah. So good.