Congratulations on Graduating!
My message in the yearbook
When I first got approached to write a motivational, touching and humorous message for the grade 12s in the yearbook my first reaction was “who me?” followed by considering running and hiding followed by screaming like a little girl followed by demanding size 72 font and five new pairs of socks.
After conferring with my agent (fictional) and my manager (also fictional) as well as my mother and father (whom I’ve promised to stop constantly referring to as fictional), I decided to get off my high horse (total waste of money and not nearly as high as advertised) and write the best darn yearbook message a person with my IQ and extreme level of nearsightedness could!
But what to say in this very very important message to you, my students? Should I aim to inspire you? Should I attempt (and fail) to make you smile resulting in lots and lots of awkward and embarrassing silences and head shaking at my failed attempts to seem “cool” and “now” and “woke”? Should I talk about my ongoing and relentless search for new, hilarious memes and gifs? Should I recall the good times we’ve shared together that mostly involved either juggling knives or high-fiving or, once, to the joy and pain of all, both? Should I remind you of how impressive, though quite long (13 years?!?!), your educational journey has been? Should I sob uncontrollably, but with good reason this time, going on and on about you leaving me behind just like my horoscope predicted? Should I use the opportunity to drive traffic to my creative writing blog?
Or should I just continue to ask questions which will largely go either unread or unanswered?
Allow me to be serious for a second…(cue slow 80s song, mullet wig and wind machine)…I totally and completely have…give me a second…enjoyed…c’mon big guy, you can do it…being your…your…your…why is this so tough…counsellor and…CAN SOMEONE JUST TURN THAT WIND MACHINE DOWN!…will…don’t let them see you cry, Paley…miss…sigh…you (I am fully aware that by admitting this in public that I am losing what little street cred that I have and am almost begging to be pelted with a variety of objects including, but not limited to, big, juicy tomatoes and rejected scholarship application letters).
For the past four years, I woke up each morning, counted my lucky stars (there are 3), came to work and helped support you emotionally, educationally and lots of other words that end in “nally” as well (coincidence?) along the way towards graduation. Why? Because that’s what my specific job description indicated that I was contractually obligated to do! And because I care. A whole awful lot. Sort of like the Lorax, but only taller, more three dimensional and slightly less animated.
I really hope that as time passes, you will look back on years at Gladstone with a fondness that is often reserved for a beloved pet or an above average slice of apple pie and laugh, either remembering this amazing time we’ve had together or at me, either way really.
Congratulations grads of 2018! You’ve done it!
