Valedictorian speech
...aturday classes. ...Grade 11...The long wait came to an end and the new St. Basil’s was built. Of course, this meant our third move in three years. But for we seasoned moving veterans, this was nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve heard it said that Grade 11 is the most difficult year in high school and in retrospect, I think I know what this means. Grade 11 was a year of transition. By now there had been a number of boy/girl relationships that had come and gone and some of us now realized that our grade 9 girlfriends or boyfriends weren’t nescessarilly the people were going to marry. Many of us began to realize that if we wanted good grades, we actually had to do the homework and assignments. After all, College and University were getting a little too close for comfort. Finally , Grade 11 brought a newfound freedom, the G2, the driver’s license. Of course, there were those of us who didn’t get to experience this new freedom as we have failed 3 times. I won’t mention any names. (clear throat) This past September, I noticed a new feeling in the air. A sense of confidence. A feeling of familiarity. We felt at home in our school. We were now the big fish in the ocean. We were the group of 6 foot, bearded students who the niners stared at in awe. Well, at least some of us (stand on tippy toes and rub cleanly shaven face). This year, I feel our class has become very much like a family and I’m proud to be a part of it. But like any family, there comes a time when everyone must go their own way. High school is about growing up. With the real world just around the corner, now is the time to realize how much we’ve actually grown up since our elementary school days. High school brought on a number of new pressures that we’d never dealt with before. But whenever things got tough and I had a big decision to make, I’d remeber the words of my grandfather. When I was just a little boy, Nonno Joe, as I like to call him, used to tell me (with Italian accent) “Marco there are three ways to live your life: the life of Paradiso, (or Heaven), the life of Pergatorio (pergatory), or the life of L’Inferno, (or Hell).” With the onslaught of new pressures brought about in high school, I’m sure we’ve all drifted through the phases at one time or another. But I trust that we’ve all ended up back in Paradiso. In Grade 8, we all had a big decision to make. A decision that would affect the direction for the rest of our lives. Where would we go to high school? Numerous factors played into our thought process as we pondered our future. In the end though, the decision came down to one question: “Does the school offer a good education?” Through the hard work of the administration and teachers here at St. Basil’s, the answer to this question is a resounding yes. We all got our fill of punnett squares, soliloquoy and verb conjugation over the past four years. But we also learned something else. Something much more valuable. We learned about ourselves and about life. This came from the extraordinary teachers of St. Basils. Teachers like Mrs. Singleton, Miss Campisi, Miss Arturi and Mr. Sbrochi, who taught us not only English literature, but in the process provided us with many life lessons. And then there are the teachers like Mrs. Raco, Mrs. Bellissimo and Mrs. Servidio who managed to always keep smiling, even when massacring the fetal pigs back in Grade 11: teachers like Mr. Baggetta and Mr. Kowalenko, who showed us that music truly is the one universal language; teachers like Mr. Lawlor, Mr. Ranalli, Mr. Merolle and Mrs. Corradi, who seem like the scariest people in the world until you get into their class and find out how great they really are; teachers like the patriotic Mr. Burns who leads his classes through the singing of the national anthem every morning; teachers like Mr. Muia, who can teach you just as much about a good veal panino as he can about irregular French verbs; And finally, to our principal Mr. Mauriell, who has been instrumental in building our school’s excellent reputation. To all the staff of St. Basil, thank you. When we were born and given a little spank to get our breathing going, someone was there to comfort us. When we were first beginning to walk and stumbled, someone was there to pick us up. When we scored our first soccer or hockey goal or played our first piano or dance recital, someone was there to cheer us on. When we needed a an extra $10 to pay for our date at the movies, someone was there to shell out the cash. And now, as we sit here in celebration of our High School years, someone is here tonight, to share in our joy. It may be mom, dad, an uncle, nonna, or any other special family member or friend. Although as teenagers we are not the easiest bunch to deal with, especially when it comes to curfews and taking the car, I’m sure I speak for everyone here tonight when I say to all the moms and dads in attendance, thank you. Thank you for always being there. Thank you for knowing more than us. Thank you...