Good evening and welcome to parents, special friends, faculty, and …ALMOST graduates.

 

Seven years ago, when I was blessed to join the Tartan Community, I could not help but notice how many senior events we have. “Gosh, St. Margaret’s really likes to extend the goodbye to their seniors”. After experiencing the Senior Banquet as a member of the community I had a much better sense of the why. After experiencing the Senior Banquet as a parent, twice, boy, did I get it! Tonight I have the pleasure of sharing that singular experience with you again.

 

A night this special only happens because of the hard work of so many. Please join me in recognizing Lora Allison, Cheryl Cragun and Jan Connon. Our PTF partners: Kristen Lanham, Upper School PTF Coordinator and the junior class parents under the leadership of Pam Haller and Maureen Lynds. Our fabulous juniors, class of 2019, who will be serving us tonight and a very, very special thank you to our Physical and Plant Staff.

 

We met with the seniors in August to begin the year and we shared with them what every experienced educator knows. Schools go as the senior class goes …and how this class has gone! They have experienced victory and defeat, shared sorrow and celebration. Through it all they have drawn on their collective strength to be greater as a whole than the sum of the individuals. This was evident the night they all collected on the lawn at the Senior Retreat and looked at the stars for a while. You could literally feel them coming together right then. In fact, I saw a little saying the other day that made me immediately think of the class of 2018…”if my friend jumped off a bridge, I wouldn’t jump with them, I would run down to the bottom so I could catch them”.

 

Socrates said that all you need for learning to happen is two people and a log to sit on. And, if genuine, an observer would not be able to tell the teacher from the student. This class is like that – while, in theory, we were the teachers; in actuality, the students became the teachers. You taught us stewardship as you took care of each other, you taught us to be part of something bigger than ourselves with your service leadership, you taught us humor and joy with your genuine spirit in the Tartan Courtyard, and you taught us to care deeply when you felt decisions did not support our mission. Thank you all for these gifts, we were blessed to have shared this part of your journey with you and we are better for it.

 

 

Thank you Mr. Moseley for the kind introduction.

 

Good evening, it is an honor and a privilege to be here with you this beautiful evening celebrating such an important milestone in your life.

 

As a member of the second graduating class, I would like to welcome you, the 33^rd graduating class, to the Tartan Alumni Association.

 

Next week you will join the ranks of the over 2,000 alums who are out in the world learning, leading and serving.

 

When I was first asked if I wanted to speak at this event, I said no because I wanted to experience the moment just as a parent. But, as I thought less about myself and more about the school, I decided it was meaningful and significant to take this opportunity to represent the Alumni Association this evening.

 

As an institution, having the child of an alum, a legacy graduate is a marker of the growth, development and evolution of the school.

 

The school started in a few trailers, in the mustard fields of San Juan Capistrano in 1979. Fast forward nearly 40 years and here we are this evening, experiencing this breathtaking campus, marveling at the unparalleled education you have received and celebrating the remarkable people you have become.

 

I have had the pleasure as a parent as well as a member of the administration to watch you grow up in the classrooms, on the stage, in the gym and on the field, and have marveled as each of you has slowly unfolded to become the adults who sit here with us this evening, confident in who you have become, each having developed your own passions and voice and ready to embark on the next stage in your life.

 

You have each been well loved during your time at St. Margaret's, you have learned, you have led and you have served.

 

And you seem to appreciate and understand the unique school experience you have been so fortunate to have and have shown your genuine appreciation for the depth of the relationships you have formed and the vast outpouring of love that has enfolded you all of these years. I am so glad that you recognize the role this school community has played in shaping the person you are today

In one short week you will embark on your journey away from St. Margaret's, you are ready, it is time, and as we sit here as parents and as members of the faculty and staff we are confident that you will continue to grow and build on the foundation begun in this place.

 

Go out and do great things, make yourself proud, make your parents proud and make St. Margaret's proud.

 

The school has invested in you and educational institutions work best when the people who benefitted from them stay connected.

 

While you don't have to turn around and dedicate your life’s work to full-time employment at the school like a few of us have, you can still stay connected by attending reunions, figuring out ways to give of yourself through your time or your treasure. Perhaps this group will start a new Alumni tradition of a Thanksgiving Reunion LFL Football Game, I know someone who might be up for planning that.

 

When I finish, Nia Matty is going to grace us with a beautiful performance of a song she has written, Wherever You Go.

 

In the chorus there is a line: "Wherever you go you will never be far from home."

 

This has been your home away from home, whether it has been for 15 years, two years or any amount of time in between.

 

I know you have felt the love and support of the school, and the amazing families, students and faculty and that this has provided you with a strong foundation for moving into adulthood.

We are all so very proud of you.

 

The Class of 2018 will always have a place in our hearts.

 

 

So where to begin with the class of 2018? I remember being six years old or so, somewhere very, very far away from Orange County, and being told I was a part of the class of 2018. I remember just having absolutely no notion of what that meant. And even as I got older and started to understand a bit better, it always felt forever away. 2018.

 

I think this had a lot to do with the fact that I was always the kid who couldn’t wait to grow up. Moving around a lot when I was younger, my big brother was my only constant friend (it wouldn’t be a speech by Julia if I didn’t talk about my brother). Everything he did I wanted to do (and do better): baseball, flag football, Guitar Hero. In a life full of constantly changing countries and cities and houses and friends, he was my one permanent thing and my home. I always felt so cheated not being able to do life right exactly by his side.

 

And so, it hit me like a freight train when he left for college (go ‘Cats though). His Justin Bieber haircut, video gaming headset, and surprisingly robust facial hair had laid the foundation of the only home I had ever really known, and I was pretty lost for a while in just the beginnings of high school. Now, growing up all over the world, I had come to deeply value at an early age just how much people of vastly different backgrounds and upbringings and cultures had to offer me. It was never lost on me how innate the desire in me was to love, care for, and learn from the countless people I had met in my life. But what I never really came to know or appreciate before the last couple years or so, was that people can become so much more your home than any building or place could ever manage.

 

Because as much as I love these halls and courtyards and churches and highlands, it is not this wonderful place that is my home: it is the faces of the class of 2018 that I have been so deeply moved and loved by that that have become my home. Your bear hugs in the chilly, 60 degree, California winter mornings before long block Tuesdays have been the big, beautiful, welcoming, wood front door that I’ve always wanted. The views of the ocean from a Jeep with the roof off and show tunes blasting have been my windows with the blue shutters and the billowing white cotton curtains. Sunsets behind rolling hills from the bare back of a horse have been the big, country back yard of my dreams. Your love for life, drive to achieve, and dazzling laughter bursting across the quad have created the soundtrack to my long journey back home.

 

Each of you has taught me and enriched me far more than I could tell you. From you I learned, for the first time, to enjoy just being a kid. From you I learned that it is brave, and not naïve, to be unconditionally kind. From you I learned what notes I had no idea I was even able to belt…and what notes I am definitely not able to belt. From you I have learned to dance like nobody is watching, and that a game of Uno or Spikeball is enough to turn a bad day around.

 

From some of the most gifted athletes I have ever known, I have learned commitment and heart and brotherhood. From some of the most brilliant minds I will ever meet, I have learned the power of intelligence to enact real, lasting change and to stand for people who can’t always stand for themselves. From performers who better remember me when they’re famous, I have learned the grit and courage it takes to give parts of your soul to audiences every night, but also the tremendously satisfying reward of giving people an escape from the real world for just an hour or so. Some of my newest friends have become some of my fiercest defenders, and people who should be the most broken are the strongest and the wisest. From some of the most unassuming corners of our class I have found the most uplifting smiles, the hands most willing to help, the world’s best advice, the warmest hugs. And every version of heartbreak and triumph and mistake and success has forged my closest friends into my dearest family.

 

It only takes knowing me for a short while to know I wear my heart on my sleeve. And there was a time when I started feeling ashamed and ignorant for being proud of that part of me. But at my most doubtful, yours were the hands that slid into mine, the smiles in the halls that found my tear-stained eyes, and the words that loved and encouraged me to continue to wear my heart on my sleeve not as a mark of shame, but a badge of honor. And for that all I can say is thank you so much. All you’ve ever shown me is love, Class of 2018, and as I look around at each of you, I have such a deep-seated confidence in the true goodness of these people I have come to call my home.

 

I have always been so anxious to get out of town, I didn’t realize how hard goodbye is going to be. But if any of the bit of home I have placed in each of you, you all have placed in me, please know that I will always have my porch light on to welcome you back home.

 

 

Greetings parents, colleagues, students and guests. I want to thank you for taking the time to gather here tonight, and I hope my speech does not detract from what has been a very enjoyable evening. I will attempt to keep my remarks brief, as I have learned that if I talk for longer than eight minutes Ryan Gottlieb falls asleep. Also, if Grace Lawler heads towards the restroom at any time during my remarks, would someone at her table please request that she leave her cellphone behind? I stopped falling for that trick months ago.

 

This has been a very good year for me professionally, but particularly in my relations with students. During convocations, I received unusually warm applause from the student body and this senior class in particular. Throughout the year, young men and women not only acknowledged me but even went so far as to engage me in discussions that hinted, just barely, that they saw me as someone with a life outside of St. Margaret's. For those non-teachers in the crowd, I can assure you that this is rare.

 

Over the course of the year, I received no emails from infuriated parents, or at least none that Mr. Jordan told me about, and I believe I brought only two students to tears, but they owed me and thankfully never reported the incident. The seven seniors who worked with me on the Honor Committee, a group of smart, emotionally intelligent young adults, caused me no problems whatsoever and even encouraged younger students to join the group, despite the fact that l, in truth, do very little "advising" and a whole lot of nagging, badgering and buck-passing. Then, to top it all off, I was honored with the opportunity to speak here tonight.

 

Adding this all up, I would not fault anyone here for coming to the obvious conclusion: I am awesome.

 

Yet I am also a skeptical and suspicious person. Perhaps it is the result of growing up in a family of pranksters and a neighborhood of older boys. Perhaps it is my training as a historian, where a close examination of authorship is more important than the text itself.

 

Perhaps it is just my nature. Either way, when Mrs. Allison informed me that I had been voted as the Faculty Speaker for the evening, I began to grow suspicious of the circumstances that led me to this point.

 

At first I thought, "Ok, who declined ahead of me?" Having failed to answer that question, I then suspected that Misters Moseley and Jordan might secretly have decided to fire me but, having already accepted my signed contract for next year, instead decided to have me speak tonight knowing that I would likely say something severely stupid, providing them an opportunity to relieve me of my duties.

 

However, after thinking it over for a few days, I have come to a much simpler yet diabolical conclusion: This year's senior class is trolling me.

 

For those of you over 40, or who may fish from time to time, you most likely recognize the phrase "trolling" in its original use, to describe the practice of "trailing a baited line from behind a slowly moving boat" in order to draw fish to the line. In the 21^st century, however, the term "trolling" is more commonly described, according to www.knowyourmeme.com, as "Internet user behavior that is meant to intentionally anger or frustrate someone else in order to provoke a response. "

 

It was only after I set aside my ego, and viewed my interactions with this group of students dispassionately, that I was able to see that the most likely reason for my success was not my inherent awesomeness, but rather that these kids just like messing with me. Indeed, what other explanation is there for the following list of indignities I have suffered over the past year at the hands of the adolescents gathered here tonight? I present to you as evidence:

 

Exhibit A: In the course of ten months working together, Parker Ryan spent more time writing scripts or checking the status of his hair than he spent listening to me. As a man with very little hair remaining, I assure you this was more than aggravating.

 

Exhibit B: Numerous times, after delivering in class what I believed to be a well-prepared lecture or witty joke, I turned to see any one of Ali Morin, Emily Suh, Danielle Drislane, Louisa Miller, Sarah Ko, Madi Mafi, Alexis Fintland, Megan Huff, Andrea Taylor, Lauren Freed, Katherine Sele or Lizzie Plummer looking back at me with a level of apathy and scorn that only supremely self-confident young women can muster.

 

Being mocked is hard. Being mocked silently is harder, let me assure you.

 

Exhibit C: I lost track of the number of times during the year that Clayton Chalmers would arrive to class twenty minutes late, unpack his stuff, then disappear for the rest of the period as soon as I turned my back. He then proceeded to demolish every test I threw at him. I'm not even mad, it was amazing.

 

Finally, exhibit D: Ryan Cragun, Brandon Wu, seated next to one another in A block Macroeconomics. RJ Egdorf, seated next to anyone in B block Macroeconomics. For the sake of my livelihood I am going to leave it at that.

 

I could go on with this list of indignities, but I believe I've made my point. In fact, I half-suspect that many of you are wondering if I will deliver any points of any substance tonight. Indeed, I shall attempt to, and those points, Class of 2018, come now.

 

It is graduation season, so advice will flow freely over the next few weeks. Friends, family, loved ones, random celebrities, anyone you can think of will be offering well-meaning advice on how to venture forth in life. Be bold, they'll say. Follow your dreams. Never give up. Don't end up 30-year-old Anaheim Ducks fans like Gavin Clarke and Matthew Josephs. All kinds of worthwhile advice will be provided in the coming weeks.

 

However, I would like to offer advice on what NOT to do over the next decade of your lives. So, with that in mind, and with love in my heart, I would like to offer a few pieces of reverse wisdom I've learned along my own journey.

 

First, do not take yourself too seriously. However, be deadly serious about whatever career you pursue.

 

Second, never presume that you are better than any position you find yourself in. There is a real chance that your expectations of what life will be like, and what your life will actually be like, are far apart. Whatever happens from here on out, try not to dwell on what should have been.

 

Third, no matter how bad a spot you find yourself in, do not forget that there is always someone worse off. Be forgiving of others, and try not to jump to conclusions about their character or intent. Life is hard, and if you go easy on others you'll find it easier to forgive yourself.

 

Fourth, never neglect those who love you unconditionally. Finding someone who will love you despite all your flaws is a special thing, and you should work to honor them every day possible. On that note, I'd like to remind Mr. Carmer that this is one of his final opportunities to say goodbye to Jay Phansalkar.

Finally, do not take your experience at St. Margaret's, and what your family has sacrificed for you to be here, for granted. Whether you arrived in preschool, middle school, or in the last few years, you are forever a member of this community and will be remembered. Look around. You've gained lifelong friends, shared triumphs, and challenges, been celebrated and shaped, all by being a Tartan. Pay it forward. Be lifelong learners. Lead, both silently and aloud. And serve others, those you know and those you'll never meet.

 

In closing, I would like to thank you, Class of 2018, for all the indignities you have afforded me over the years. You made me work harder, and grow stronger, as a person and as a professional, and for that I will be eternally grateful.

 

Good night.