Stephen K. Carmody

Second Honors Speech

Thank you Mr. DiLoreto for the introduction
 
Welcome to proud parents, restless siblings, glowing grandparents, hallowed administration. To all of you roasting in the sun.  These gray and maroon robes are evidence to something wonderful that has taken place.  This stack of diplomas attests to a union of sorts that has grown over the past years in the confines of the school at which we are gathered. 

Teachers smile with joy as if they are looking proudly upon their own children. Or they breathe a sigh of relief, as if to say "glad that year's through." Students smile ruefully too, for they barely scraped by after 13 grueling years of education.  Or more thoughtfully they reflect on a journey hard fought, completed, and they are better for it. And the rest here come together for the first time to recognize the tradition between the teacher and the student. For Graduation exercises, above all, are a first time to publicly honor this relationship.
 
I bet all of you remember the first time you realized teachers don't live in vampire coffins somewhere in the school.  The first time you realized those pictures on your elementary school teacher's desk were of the beloved ones to a living, breathing human. A human who magnificently returned to a home after teaching you for six hours. Or who showed up late because her child was sick. Or who had a dog. Or who had his bad days that had nothing to do with you.

There were times in our lives - if you ask me, I have no idea how we made it through each day back then - that we spent more waking hours with our elementary school teachers than our own parents or guardians. Six hours in one classroom? Today we groan at a double Biology block. But if early education taught anything, it is a pride and joy for those women and men who devoted their time to our cause. The more we saw teachers as people living in the same world as us, the more we appreciate that they have sacrificed their time to a bunch of young, restless kids, who more devoted to Pokémon cards and earthworms than multiplication tables and Wordly Wise.

But elementary school’s gone, middle school too. Nowadays, we struggle to make the waking hours the six we are in school for. And in growing up, becoming independent individuals, we turn away from authority figures: teachers and parents alike. We lose sight that the guy giving us an exam third period goes home to pet his dog. Slowly, life becomes entangling, and sacrifice becomes grating. We struggle to keep a balance of athletics and clubs and community service and hanging with friends and school work.

Ah, but the school work. In the student- teacher relationship, the school work is the monetary system, the bartering good of respect. In an interaction infinitely bent on success, homework is tendered as if to say, “at home, I thought of you, dear math teacher, and this is the result.”

So while we might have turned away from our teachers, they still, despite our most desperate thoughts to the contrary, continued being people. And then your English comes in one day so tired but triumphant, because she gave up most of her sleep last night to grade your term papers. Or your Math teacher pops up at the supermarket, buying cheese and bread. Or you find yourself missing the laugh of your old Chemistry teacher. We realize we aren’t so different, teachers and students. In fact, we are strangely alike. We all are legally bound to wearing clothes and we all are grossly underpaid. We all freak out sometimes, or like to pet kittens, or enjoy 90’s music a little too much. It turns out we are all people.

Therefore, we do honor today to every teacher and every student. We do honor to the teachers who are called “music teachers,” or called “custodians,” or called “guidance counselors”, or called “secretaries,” or called “friends,” “parents,” “brothers,” and “sisters,” or called “students.” And we look back on what built these relationships, what made them memorable (for surely you remember the teacher you loathed right along with the teacher you adored).

These relationships were built on respect, foremost, as I have come to know so much lately. Perhaps the respect came from the intense wisdom and knowledge the teacher possessed. Or perhaps the respect came from the way a teacher saw things similarly to you. Or understood when you had a bad day. Or who pushed you because they trusted in the skills you possessed. Or who tried to reorganize your whole entire life, even up to a ten o’clock “lights out” policy. Or who made you laugh ‘cause they were so hip and cool, in an absurd sort of way.

Well, look for that respect. Look for those teachers, as you go on to future jobs around here, or go far away, or go to college or university. When we lose that respect, we lose the ability to learn. And when we lose the ability to learn, I think we become most dangerous, to ourselves and others.

Last, I would like to exult in the community all around us, the cornerstone of which is the student-teacher relationship. Evidence of the community that spills out from the classroom is everywhere. We see it overtly on the black t-shirts of Ms. O’s creative writing classes, telling us in bold white lettering just how great Ms. Orlando was in 2008. We hear it quietly muttered about when we are raucously enjoying our Friday night, while still worrying about the big paper due on Monday. We remember it with pride as a challenge collectively overcome, twenty students or so gathered in a room over a year, for the singular task of learning.

It is in that entity established, the sacred “us,” that I find so much beauty and joy on graduation day. And it is something I will remember sorely and fondly and with so much gratitude for years to come. Congratulations to all the students and all the teachers of the class of 2008!