Graduate Speeches

Valedictorian

Yuriy Melnyk

We were always told that high school would fly by, that although it feels like a forever while its happening, when it comes to a close, it will feel like it went by in the blink of an eye. The days would go slow, but the years would go by fast and before we knew it, we would be saying goodbye to those who we have spent what felt like a lifetime with. And most of us never really believed those words to be true until this moment right now, as I am standing here giving the final address to the Class of 2018.

Good Evening, Welcome and thank you to community members, School Committee, Administration, WHS Faculty, Family, Friends and the Class of 2018. I am so honored to be standing here in front of all of you today, even though I feel like there are no words good enough to describe our experiences together here at Winthrop High School I believe that at the end of our high school journey it is only fitting to walk down memory lane, to take a glimpse at our timeline, and engrave the memories that we all share before leaving this place we all call home to find our new homes.

It’s like it was yesterday that we were walking into the high school for the first time- well actually the middle school for the fourth time – but same thing. It was definitely an experience we remember vividly, being excited for a change and then re entering the same doors we did as 11-year-olds. But nevertheless, we made it work. Our new beginning was not exactly how we planned it to be, but that is what made it so unique to us. We were all still are, eager, innocent and willing. If you think about it, we actually had it pretty easy our Freshman Year. We didn’t need to go through the confused freshman phase because we knew the school like the back of our hands. And on top of that, the upperclassmen like us, a lot more than the eighth graders. So the ‘Go Home Eighth Graders” chant came far before the “Go Home Freshman” one at our first Pep Rally. And as Freshman, we just could not wait to become Sophomores.

Then we became the middle child of the high school. In between the Eighth grade and Freshman and the Juniors and Seniors. At this point we entered the same building for the fifth year like experts, only to realize that nothing really changed at all. We were and still are optimistic, upbeat, and confident. Meanwhile, we turned 16, some of us got our license. We finally got our shot on our sports teams or a spotlight on the state. We felt like a real part of the high school now because we were not longer the babies of the school. We had some of the greats back then like Mr. Ito, and were lucky enough to officially have Mr. Crombie as our principal. As sophomores we just could not wait to be juniors.

Onwards of those days we stepped into the brand new school. Something that Winthrop was waiting for years. We were among the leaders of the school now, stressing out about college and bonding over every little inconvenience that came about. School was hard, but nothing we couldn’t handle. We were and still are, intelligent, hardworking, determined. Each day we counted down the days until our senior year would arrive. Looking back now, I know most of us now wish we hadn’t wished our years away. The late nights of studying and procrastination has all resulted in the successes we can all proudly speak about today. All the work our Junior year, was worth something so much bigger than we believed at the time. But all we wanted as juniors was to become seniors.

And Senior Year; it came and it went-just like that.

We are the ones who played on the brand new Miller Field for the first time on Thanksgiving Day. We are the ones who are METG Drama Festival State Champions. We are the ones who planned a Walkout to stand up for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. We are the ones who held a track meet for the first time in 12 years. We are the ones who took part in eliminating the R word from our school. We are the ones who planned Wellness Week for students to be aware, and to be well. We are the ones who held Cheerleading NEC in our new gym. We are the ones who raised money for a teacher in need. We are the ones who received 10/10 scoring on multiple Mock Trial performances.

But now, the “We are” turns to “we were”. And the “We: Will t urn to “I” as the final chapter in this book we call High School comes to a close. This is the last page, which his always bittersweet. You want to get there so badly, but once you do, and you close the book, you feel like you could read it all over again. As we walk out of the doors of Winthrop High School today, we should all feel proud because we truly left this place better than how we found it. Class of 2018, look around and know that High School was so special because we were able to grow alongside each other. Cherish this moment right now. This is it. The world outside of these four walls is a big one, and I know we are ready for the world. But I don’t know if the world is ready for the Class of 2018. Be kind, try new things, strive for success. Your opportunities are endless and success is yours, if you’re wiling to work for it. Now the world awaits us, let’s go out there and conquer it.

Thank you.

Salutatorian

Joy Freeman

To the 5-year-old girl in the princess backpack, the night before kindergarten orientation

From: The 18-year-old girl at her high school graduation.

 

You have never been good at goodbyes.

Your mother will attest to this.  She has accommodated your reluctance to leave her everyday for preschool by forging a routine of singing The Carpenters in the car before heading inside. You treat each parting as a travesty, freezing moments for as long as you can and prolonging finality until it becomes inevitable.

Apprehension in your new adventure will culminate tomorrow, when your mother tightens the elastics in your pigtails and smoothes out the pleats of the skirt. You will sit between the cracks of the front porch, dodging splinters in your tights as you smile at the shutter of your dad’s old camera. The threat of the future will loom over you, all the way from the bumpy ride in your car seat to the terrifying parting in the Fort Banks cafeteria. You will cower.

Tomorrow, you will learn the proper name for Lincoln Logs. You will be greeted with mostly unfamiliar faces, their entrance into your story not appearing as grand as it deserves to be. You will celebrate with them when you lose your first tooth during recess, and you will cry together when you accidentally step on the class snail. They will forgive you, because that is what friends do. By June, you will be crying into your bottle of bubbles as you leave your newfound partners in crime.

You have never been good at goodbyes.

Classroom lists and packed lunches and field days will mix into a haze. Some of those around you will cling to their childhood, swinging from the monkey bars until their feet sweep the ground. Despite how wistfully you stare off to the middle school students across the street, you cannot rush time. It will carry you at its own pace. When you walk across the stage to accept your fifth-grade certificate, you will realize that the innocence you are beginning to leave behind deserves a parting all its own.

You have never been good at goodbyes.

It will rain on your first day of sixth grade. You are too busy in your own head to notice that everything around you is changing. The one constant in your life will be your classmates. Informing the teacher of each other’s absences, partnering up for group projects, learning and nurturing and tending to each others’ needs. You have been placed in the lives of one another by seemingly the most trivial of factors: age. Yet you will fit together so seamlessly, intertwining lives and schedules and relationships as if by fate. It will almost feel like it was meant to be.

You have never been good at goodbyes.

The transition to high school will breed a realization that your time with these faces is dwindling. The characters are beginning to fade from the pages they have planted themselves on, despite their importance in your life amplifying. It will be as if you all realize in the same instant that the only way you will make it out alive will be holding each other up. So, you join hands.

You have never been good at goodbyes.

The beast of growing up will come rearing its teeth, gnashing at your perceptions and attacking your strength. It will try to disassemble your world freshman year, but you will find the Abigail to your Taylor. She will hold your broken pieces together until you are whole again. When the sun continues to rise, you will be pleasantly surprised.

When the two juniors in your sophomore gym class wear their concert wristbands to school, don’t worry that they are too cool to like you. Nobody else will dance with you in the middle of the road at midnight to Lifehouse. Watching them drive away to leave for college will reduce all three of you to tears.

You have never been good at goodbyes.

You will never feel more alive than the moments you spend after you first get your license. The backroads of this town are also technically the main roads, but they are all the more magical at night. Destinations are not necessary, and yes, Kelly’s can constitute for an adventure. Look at the skyline when you can. You will miss the view when you’re inside of it.

You have never been good at goodbyes.

You will not feel comfortable sitting in silence with most of the people you meet. As for the ones that make the static feel safe, hold onto them. If you surround yourself with those that define you by your soul, and not merely by your accolades, you will know peace.

As you approach the end of your senior year, it will be the little things that you miss the most. The comfort of an assigned seat, the familiarity of a smile. You will miss the coffee runs on Sunday mornings, or the week in May when all of the trees spontaneously burst into full bloom. You will miss the beauty you have been blessed to grow up alongside; bred by the ocean, raised by the waves. Despite how much you claimed to have resented the confines of this town, there is something to be said for how much it loved you.

Treasure the moments that you have with your mother. She will always be the loudest cheer in the crowd and the tightest hug when the show ends. Keep your father as a friend as much as a source of advice; you are too alike for your own good, and you are never to cool to sing a Jimmy Buffett song with him. Take a moment to play with your sister, sing with your cousins, listen to your great-grandparents while you can. Remember that they are getting older too.

You have never been good at goodbyes.

You will learn that there are parts of your soul that you are not supposed to unlock until you are ready for them. And chances are, you won’t be ready for them at 16. Time will weather you, but what remains after the storms will be dignity and truth. This is your essence. Do not lose it.

You will never be good at goodbyes.

This will hit you as you stand at the podium before the children who raised you. You will be looking out into a crowd of adults, perched on the branch of possibility, but all you’ll be able to see are wide eyes and swinging feet. They are the only people in the world who will know the idiosyncrasies of your childhood. They will cease to exist in your next chapter, in a matter of minutes dissolving from the page as gracefully as they entered.

You have never been good at goodbyes.

But tomorrow you will wake up early. Your clothes will be laid out on your bed. Your mother will hand you your tea in a sippy cup. You will shake with excitement and anxiety as you pull into the parking lot of your new home. When the girl with the book under her arm offers you a Lincoln Log, do not hesitate friendship in fear of a goodbye. You will have thirteen years to prepare for that moment. Instead, cherish an introduction. Translation: “Hold onto the memories, they will hold onto you.”

Love,

Joy Elizabeth