- H. Starr
23/05/2018
As of writing this, we are graduating in two days. I’m sure everyone has their own thoughts and reminiscences on this, but I guess I just figured I’d share mine. I’ve thought about writing this a lot. I’ve wrestled with the worry that it might sound too sappy or it might be too specific to my own experience. I also had to consider the fact that the Leaving Cert English course has sucked every creative fibre out of my being, leaving nothing in my brain but some key quotations and That Part in Lily’s chapter of The Spinning Heart. Then I realised no one is likely to see this anyway, and I stopped worrying. It’s been breaking my heart to see this blog desolate for the last year, so I’m taking it upon myself to hack the website (is it hacking if you know the password?) and use it as a medium to say thank you. Thank you to all of you, thank you to the teachers, thank you to the building that has been my second home for six of my seventeen years. This school has been a safe place for me. The first time I walked through the doors in late August of 2012, I was afraid. It took a while to get comfortable. Teachers didn’t know me and the ceilings looked like pot noodles and I was wearing a stupid hairband. It wasn’t an immediate fit. I even took off to America for half of second year in search of something better. Leaving was the best decision I ever made, because then I got to choose to come back. I came back because I missed the school that once never knew me. I had people to come back to. Sometimes I wonder whether I’ve spent more collective hours at school or at home in the last two years. It’s become such a natural and effortless place for me to be. There are teachers here that I could talk about anything to. I’ve formed friendships here that have defined who I am as a person. The best and worst of times have passed me in this school. In either case, there has always, always been somebody there to share it with. Every morning I walk into this personalised little world of textbooks and squared paper and laughter and tears, and I love it. I keep ‘love’ in the present tense, because I can’t quite face the fact that my days in that particular world are coming to an end. I can only hope that the future holds many bright paces to replace the one I’m about to lose. I’d even settle for just one. Putting aside the people that make this school what it is, I’ll also miss the little things. I’ll miss standing awkwardly in the microwave queue for the entirety of lunch. I’ll miss playing musical chairs in the old computer room to find a computer that actually works. I’ll miss bruises on my thighs from accidentally walking into those lunch tables on a regular basis. I’ll miss ‘studying in the GPA’ after maths instead of actually going to study. I’ll miss taking naps in the oratory. Hey, we may not have a snazzy gym or whatever else twelve year olds think is attractive, but you have to admit this place has character. In Home Ec one time we learned about the ‘hidden curriculum’. It’s to do with the social skills and life lessons that a child learns just from being in school, regardless of the academic curriculum. I only started to think about the hidden curriculum I’ve been following when I realised it was almost finished. Today Ms Donohue was telling us about how when she started teaching, her mother told her that you never miss a day of school unless you’re seriously sick, and you work as hard as you can. The biggest virtue this school has taught me is the importance of hard work. They say talent is nothing without hard work, and I’m reminded of this when I look at Ms Donohue’s perfect attendance record, or her refill pads containing her own workings for every question ever. I’m inspired by all the people I’ve met here who do what needs to be done and do it well. I’ve been taught by this school that dedication and commitment will get you everywhere. This school has also taught me compassion. I’ve always respected the fact that if someone’s crying, you can take off basically an entire class to help mitigate the issue. No questions asked. If someone is having a hard time, we do not leave them off to sort themselves out and go about our business. We do what we can to help. We take care of each other. It’s become routine, it happens without a second thought. The culture of love and support that I’ve seen demonstrated time and time again here is, in my opinion, a truly beautiful thing. The real world is rough (or so I’ve heard), but if the vast majority of us manage to carry some of this compassion with us in years to come, I think we will all be OK. I’m getting bleary-eyed now. I should wrap this up. I think I’ve said all that needs to be said. To the Class of 2018, thank you for the memories, thank you for the laughs, thank you for shaping me as an individual. You made this place a home for me over the last six years, and it’s been an absolute pleasure working with you all. Don’t be strangers. To the teachers who have sharpened me intellectually, supported me emotionally, and believed in me unconditionally, thank you from the bottom of my heart. To the windows and walls that held me safe and happy every single day: stay standing to welcome new, scared mini-students (perhaps with stupid hairbands) for many years to come.
- H. Starr 23/05/2018
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