Glenbard West Seniors Share One Last Thought

Graduate Paul Luczak wrote the following speech for Glenbard West's class of 2011 graduation ceremony.

Countless relationships and experiences influenced my childhood, but none more so than constantly being surrounded by three sisters. Colleen, Lisa, and Laura taught me many things, specifically to never touch their hair, to keep my mouth shut when I had an opinion about one of their outfits, and to accept that we would never watch Star Wars on a family movie night. When it came to movies, I learned out of necessity to enjoy the Disney classics and chick flicks we would watch over and over again.

That being said, it did not surprise that near the end of the school year, when I would sit in class and daydream about graduation and the future, the one movie that consistently popped into my head was Legally Blonde. Today we, the class of  2011, share some similarities with Elle Woods and the other Harvard Law graduates from that movie. Like Elle, tonight we leave Glenbard West with a knowledge, maturity, and sense of self confidence that four years ago we did not possess. Also, we are all ready to embark on new chapters of our lives, and brave the challenges that wait before us.

However, there is one key difference between the graduation portrayed in the movie and the ceremony we experience tonight. When Elle Woods graduates, white words pop up over her head, foreshadowing the next stages of her life and enlightening the audience on what is to come. Now, I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure no text or elegant sentences will appear over Lake Ellyn during our graduation tonight and let us know what we will accomplish in the future. When we finally leave Glenbard West after this ceremony, unlike in Legally Blonde, not one of us knows for certain where he or she is going.

Sure, most of us know where we might be location-wise a year from now, or maybe even for the next four years, but what does that really mean? We cannot begin to predict what we will experience, what we will learn, or where our lives will take us. However, there are some things we know without a doubt. We understand that we enter into a world with problems, environmental concerns threatening our collective futures, rising governments struggling to overthrow years of injustice, and an American and global economy that refuses to grant us peace of mind.

Just as we know that we face a world full of challenges, we also can be just as confident that within the United States, the world, and even in the rows of seats in front of me, we possess the leaders to face, and more importantly, solve, these issues. To be honest, I doubt that the scientist to crack our energy dilemma or a Nobel Peace Prize winner is sitting somewhere on Duchon field tonight, but please go ahead and prove me wrong. But what I do know, is tonight we graduate a class full of young men and women who will make a difference in this world.

I am talking about the future mothers and fathers who will instill a passion for knowledge and moral righteousness within their children, the teachers who will create a foundation of leaders and thinkers ready to face the world ahead of them, and the unemployed and future millionaires who will use whatever resources they possess to not only better their own life, but the lives of everyone around them. It does not matter what titles or awards we are bestowed in the future, but rather what we do on a day to day basis to combat the universal challenges we all face.

That’s why I like the topic that I am speaking on tonight: where we are going. This question does not emphasize where we will ultimately end up, but instead emphasizes the journey we embark on, and every second of our lives that will define who we will become. That’s what is important, making the most of each opportunity granted to us in the future, and using these opportunities to reach our greatest potential. Our time at Glenbard West has prepared us for success in the future, and has readied us to face the challenges ahead. We have accomplished so much in the last four years, that it is tough to imagine the positive impact we will be able to make in the next 80. Without a doubt, I'm happy that we do not know where we are going.

We leave Glenbard West with uncertainty, but also without any boundaries or limits. We do not know what we will accomplish, but we know we can and will accomplish anything we put our minds to in the future. Congratulations class of 2011, best of luck in the future, and tonight, just remember, as Elle Woods said, We did it!

Thank you.

Graduate Elizabeth Simoneit wrote the following speech for Glenbard West's class of 2011 graduation ceremony.

We were going on hour three of our nineteen hour drive to my grandparents house when we had to make our first pit stop. The gas gauge was hovering dangerously close to empty, and all that coffee had finally caught up with us. My dad pulled off the highway and into the nearest Shell station, and as he filled the tank, the rest of my family, stiff from the ride, hobbled into the convenience store. I made a beeline to the bathroom. 

Smily faces and middle fingers had been 'Sharpie-d' onto the toilet paper dispenser. The grimy mirror was plastered with a lipstick kiss and a bumper sticker that read "Republicans for Voldemort." Someone had drawn the ubiquitous "Kilroy was here" just above the sink and a primitive heart reading "K + D 4eva" had been etches into the plaster wall with a car key. This display was not anything I had found particularly riveting, but its purpose was something I couldn't quite figure out. What behoves anyone to blot their lipstick on the mirror of a public restroom?

Why do I care if the romantic endeavors of K and D will span all of eternity? I don't even know who these people are. Each message seemed to be a public declaration of an inside joke, and whether these taggers were conveying a message or just being ironic was beyond me. But nonetheless, it remained there, and probably still does long after I left. While I hesitate to call graffiti a fine art, it serves a unique purpose with its raw form and universality. For one, anyone with a writing instrument can do it, and with such a wide spectrum of artists, it takes a variety of forms - from the brightly encouraging to the blatantly vulgar, it transforms a physical surface into a a public forum of expression. Sometimes it doesn't convey a message at all, and merely functions as a brief statement of self, as if to say "I'm human! I exist!"

The setting itself may not even be significant - like a gas station bathroom, it's often just a necessary stop along the journey, and before the artists carry on, they leave a memento of themselves behind. As humans, we are transient beings. We are constantly moving, developing, evolving into a different form, taking on various roles throughout our life that we might live according to our upmost functionality and satisfaction.

Strangely, it seems as if we are wired to desire a sense of permanence in our lives as well. These two conflicting elements of our persona bewilder us, and it's the uncontrollable progression of time that often disrupts our pursuit of consistency. So we cope by making a name for ourselves: we compose music, break records, make art, take pictures and record our lives so we can watch them on TV. We put fragments of our existence in concrete forms that we might be remembered despite all of our change. Putting our mark on the world gives us a sense of worth, it's important to us that we have something to show for our accomplishments. 

There isn't a lot of graffiti in the bathroom stalls at Glenbard West, but that's not to say the class of 2011 hasn't left their mark on their high school. Art students, your work has been displayed in the halls for four years, and some of those pieces have been framed and will remain for years to come. Maybe you were an outstanding athlete, and there's a picture of you hanging in Biester. Club achievers, your pictures will hang on the fourth floor. Award winners, your name is probably embossed on a plaque somewhere. If that's not enough, we donated a new entrance gate for Circle Drive, and the cafeteria wall now dons each one of our  hand prints. That's not to mention all the trophies, plaques, prizes and recognition we've earned for ourselves and our school as a whole.

Congratulations everyone, we've done well.

But as time goes on, our legacy will fade. High school doesn't end for the rest of the world now that we're done, and future graduating classes will spend more time making a name for themselves rather than remembering ours. But that is not what is important.

A true legacy does not manifest itself in photographs, trophies or art - instead, it is the culmination of the endurance, relationships and memories we have shared with each other over the course of our four years, and for many, even longer. It remains a part of our very being, woven into our heritage and incorporated in the foundation that will remain with us for the rest of our lives.

Every choice you have made has effected those sitting around you, and as the impressionable young adults everyone makes us out to be, we've made an indelible impact on each other; our fingerprints are all over one another's childhood. The trophies may tarnish and the pictures may fade but despite the passage of time, we will not be forgotten, because ultimately, our legacy transcends the material and will endure through each other.

And that's an impressive legacy to leave.