A daring graduation speech

While I was trying hard not to worry about it, others were worrying about it for me. All year long I heard questions like, "What are you going to say?" and "Are you going to mention my name?"

I wanted to inspire my classmates. "You must tell them to go out there and change the world," said one of my teachers. But I didn’t want to be corny. A week before my graduation, I attended the graduation of one of my friends. The valedictorian gave the usual speech about memories, changes, dedication and success. I thought that I had nothing new to say. Part of me longed to take the easy way out—make a generic speech, receive polite applause and sit down. But somehow I wanted it to be memorable.

My school certainly had problems


Speaking of memorable, what was high school like anyway? I thought back on my days as a freshman. I thought that hard work was all that mattered. But over the years, I discovered that the system often worked hard against people like me. I wanted to cross-track, have independent study, and take as many advanced classes as I could. The beginning of each year was a battle for the schedule I wanted. I would wait in lines and have to explain myself in five seconds to the head counselor just to apply for a class change. If I got to see a counselor she would send me to get countless approvals and notes from teachers, or tell me to bring my parents in, or just flat out refuse to change my schedule.

It seemed like the administration only cared about keeping things running smoothly without realizing that their rules and policies limited students who wanted to accomplish more. They gave no priority to the AP students—on the contrary, they scheduled Stanford 9 tests the week before AP exams, and senior picnics during AP exams. The principal gave the "smart kids" pep talks before the Stanford 9 because our scores would raise the school’s average. But he took no notice while we struggled through APs.

I thought about including all this in my speech. But would anyone care about my rantings and ravings? "I don’t want to be too negative but something should be said," I told a friend, who thought I should go for it.

A teacher told me, "This is your moment to say something important."

Four years before, the salutatorian had criticized the administration severely in his speech. The problem was that no one understood his big words or his negative attitude. "You definitely have to sell the audience," said a teacher.

I wanted to describe the great things that happened at school


I thought of things that everyone in my class could relate to. Over the years, I learned that everybody had a special gift. There were classes for sewing, cooking, dance, art, gardening, and auto mechanics, plus countless sports and clubs. Many teachers donated their time to give students an outlet of expression. I started my speech by mentioning these things specifically. It was a very positive beginning.

But I knew that everyone had grievances about the administration—like the fact that they hassled girls for wearing tank tops in the summer. Bathrooms were locked and dirty, and students got treated like criminals for being a few minutes late to class. They were sent to the tardy room, where they waited for half an hour for a cranky dean to give them a note back to class.

As I sat behind the podium, listening to everybody’s speeches, I wondered whether I really had the heart to complete my own speech. My principal had read it beforehand—but only the nice parts. The student body president, principal, distinguished guests and the salutatorian all spoke of the positive—about hard work, achievements and bright futures. My classmates were happy and proud. They clapped and cheered at the inspirational phrases.

My turn finally came. I heard my voice amplified throughout the stands. I spoke of all our talents. The students cheered when I mentioned a club or sport that they belonged to. For a moment, I felt like ending it there, and sitting down. What if it was the wrong time? Or what if no one really cared anymore? Was it really worth it? But I knew that many people were counting on me to say something unique and unforgettable. So I began: "The administration enforced a million self-defeating rules, at the cost of the overall success of the students." As soon as I said this, a great surge of yells and applause burst forth from my classmates. I knew then, that they were behind me, and I found the courage to finish my speech with confidence. They cheered louder and louder each time as I mentioned the injustices we had all witnessed.

One of the last things I said to them was: "It’s no one’s place to put the students down, though we are young and inexperienced. Those who believe that there’s no hope for our future, do not belong in the public school system—where paths are set for the realization of our dreams."

Everyone was ecstatic. They gave me a standing ovation as I sat down.

"Thank you," whispered the salutatorian.

The principal leaned over and said, "What did you do, sneak that in while I wasn’t looking? Well, I hope you enjoyed it. You’re going to remember that."

But then he said, "I’m sorry you felt that way. We’ll try to do better next time."

I nodded and smiled.

The administrators seemed pretty upset. While some teachers were supportive, others thought I should not have said those things at graduation. "It was everyone’s moment to shine," they said.

A few parents thought I was crazy. Even my mother thought that maybe I had been a bit extreme. But all the students congratulated me and told me I had guts—people that I hardly knew, and some that I did not know at all. "You told it like it really is," one girl said.

I recently went back to visit my high school and found out that people are still talking about it. "Do you guys know who this is?" one of my teachers asked his class of sophomores. "She made that speech at graduation. She dissed all the administrators!" someone said and they all clapped.

Our schools need changes


I did not run into the principal, but I heard that he’d like to make some changes at the school. It would not have to be anything drastic—just a change in attitude. More administrators should get involved in student life and make exceptions to rules that hold students back. They should support academics and stop assuming that the students are always wrong. They must realize that each student has a blossoming talent and that we make great things happen—even at public inner-city schools.

I learned that I have to be bold to get people’s attention and make an impact. I will never regret putting the administrators on the spot like I did on graduation day. It was the only way to show everyone that public schools shape today’s youth—and we should be careful who we trust to mold our future.

“Good morning parents, teachers, and classmates. It is a great honor to stand here before you representing the class of 2000. It is hard to sum up high school in just a few minutes, but a few lessons and experiences deserve to be mentioned before we say good-bye to Marshall forever. High school was definitely not like the movies. But it was a time of self-discovery and growth.

At Marshall, every student had a talent, whether obvious or undiscovered. And it seemed like no matter what the students were into, there was always a teacher willing to give them the chance to express themselves. There were the evocative dances in Mr. Kane’s shows, the comedy of Ms. McKnight’s plays, the energy of Mr. Lapre’s choir, the precision of the marching band, and the harmony of the orchestra. Our community service clubs encouraged students to donate their time and make a difference in our neighborhoods. The landscape group is dedicated to the beautification of our campus, the auto and wood shops, and the art classes taught students valuable skills and crafts. Leadership gave us dances and pep rallies. The yearbook staff captured our timeless memories each year. The Campus News and the Blue Tide reported on student life. Although we have no tennis courts or swimming pool at Marshall, we have dedicated athletes who dragged themselves and their gear to off-campus locations for practice. We also had basketball, baseball, volleyball, and of course … football. We even had clubs for mountain climbing, hackey sack, mah jong, and Simpsons’ fanatics. The teachers, coaches, and sponsors of these organizations donated countless hours to make sure the every student had a group to belong to. They helped all of us find our hidden abilities and gave us a reason to explore the true extent of our potential.

When I first came to Marshall, the school seemed too big and too crowded. But after seeing all the things that go on here … the size and the population seem small compared to the incredible concentration of devotion and talents. Academics has been my focus, but I have learned to appreciate the diverse skills, gifts, and passions that all of you have.

Not only did we learn about ourselves, we also learned a lot about how the world works. We all had to deal with the monster bureaucracy at one point—whether it was getting an absence slip, pass to the bathroom, detention or changing classes. The administration enforced a million self-defeating rules, at the cost of the overall success of the students. Something is definitely wrong with the system when we have to spend half the period in the tardy room, and get treated like criminals when we are a few minutes late to class. When girls get hassled for wearing spaghetti straps in 90 degree weather, get seated on benches and called derogatory names by administrators, something is definitely wrong. When student bathrooms remain dirty and locked for days and the Armenian-Latino tensions remain unacknowledged by the administration, something is wrong with our system.

For a long time, Marshall has been famous for its outstanding academics. We have award winning Decathlon and Mock Trial teams, as well as countless students getting into Cal States, UCs and private colleges each year. Yet the administration adds to our struggles and throws obstacles in our paths as we schedule classes and cross track. Instead of finding solutions and facilitating our goals, they discourage independent study and forbid us from studying in the library during open periods. We got one pep talk before the Stanford 9 tests but were left on our own for the AP tests. Rather than giving us priority, the school administration regarded us as an inconvenience for striving to achieve beyond what the rules would allow. Only a few fortunate ones earned the grace of the administration and had all doors open for them. This favoritism is unfair then again, “nothing is fair, get used to it.”

Unfortunately we will never stop facing these kind of obstacles in our lives … but there is absolutely no reason why any of us should get used to it—not while we have knowledge, and a vision, and while we band together in friendship against whatever roadblocks the future may bring.

Our parents have loved us, giving us our values and our livelihoods. Our friends have supported us as we discovered ourselves and our destinies. Our teachers and coaches have seen the big picture and kept their faith in us. From all these people we have learned life’s harsh lessons, but we have also learned that we should never give up. It’s no one’s place to put the students down, though we are young and inexperienced. Those who believe that there’s no hope for our future, do not belong in the public school system—where paths are set for the realization of our dreams.