DSHA Class of 2022 Graduation Speaker: Valedictorian Grace Organ, DSHA '22

Class of 2022, we have been so lucky to call DSHA home. Academically, DSHA has offered us scores of stimulating courses. Far from hampering our scholastic fun, daunting material bonded us to our classmates and taught us more than just information. In addition to knowledge of The Great Gatsby or of Fahrenheit 451, we will take with us critical thinking and the ability to articulate our beliefs beyond English class. We may not retain every theorem of chemistry or calculus, but, more importantly, we will keep the perseverance and work ethic we developed in those disciplines. The hardest challenges yielded the greatest growth, both within and outside of the classroom. Goliath athletic challenges and ambitious theatrical pursuits necessitated teamwork and trust in our peers. As we worked to stretch our abilities, we gained confidence and practice in using our gifts. Service, from PB&J ministry to Vocare, taught us to use those gifts to help our community, and we will take the compassion we developed with us in our next steps. Along with these lessons, our personal memories of DSHA will stick almost as stubbornly as Dash-a-Thon glitter. What other school would blast music to greet freshmen on orientation day or serve a pancake breakfast before finals? What other school’s teachers would perform in Airband or display a dress made of demerits? We will miss morning prayer, Movie Day, talking at Dasher Time, and so many other simple joys.

 

The one thing we can’t take with us to our next step is the people we’ve met here. During the past four years, we have grown together, weaving our friendships into our sense of self. Through monumental state victories, simply saying “hey” in the hallways, singing We Are One Body together, and so many other experiences, we have built meaningful connections that will endure for years to come. At this moment, it seems almost unfathomable that our futures will lead us along ever-diverging paths.

 

In fact, it may be many years until the class of 2022 once again assembles in one room. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. We're certainly scattering around the country next year—to college, to military training, to jobs—to futures which I know will be bright. It sounds fanciful and trite, but I cannot wait to watch you lead; I see future professors, doctors, lawyers, researchers, captains, and nurses before me. I see athletes, artists, and musicians whom DSHA has inspired and prepared for their next steps. I see future mothers, friends, leaders, people who follow the Gospel call to serve their community. I have faith in the tremendous support our families and teachers have extended to better our futures, and I have faith in your ability to use those gifts well. Dashers, in an age often filled with hatred, it’s wonderful to think of your excellence, kindness, and connection not just permeating, but flooding the world. What a gift that, no matter where we go, we will still retain this common home, this institution that helped to form us into the people we are today.

 

Many of our friendships will endure seamlessly from this stage of life to the next, but for others, at least temporarily, distance may have other plans. When you meet someone for the first time—as many of us did on August 19, 2018—you don't have expectations, and so it's simple, if not easy, to make a friend. When you drift apart from someone and then find each other again, things are more complicated. Now, you have expectations of how you will be perceived or of the awkwardness that might ensue. You might believe that – had you really been friends – you wouldn't have allowed time or distance to separate you.

 

Despite the temptation to discount our connections, let’s be old friends: those you may not see for a year or a decade, but when you do see again, feel as close to you as though only a day has passed, those for whom the bonds of friendship outweigh the miles or the years.

 

If in twenty years, let’s say, you see me outside the DSHA Robert and Marie Hansen Family Fine Arts Theatre buying my tickets to see a production of Pandemic: The Musical, say hello. I will want to see you, to talk to you, to hear about your life. I challenge each of us to approach one another almost as if it’s the first time. I will expect you to remember neither my birthday nor my job—nor my bland speech at graduation, for that matter—and I look forward to reconnecting.

 

Whether we live out our vocations in realms constantly overlapping or rarely intersecting, I wish the very best for you all. May your triumphs be many and your troubles be opportunities to learn. May your friends feel like family and your family be your best friends. May your orchid days be frequent and your skirt be just the right length. There's something wonderful in knowing that, out there, there are people who want the best for you, even if you never cross paths, people who, at the sound of your name, would remark, "Oh, I remember her from high school! I hope she's doing well.”

 

Dear Dashers, I hope we keep in touch, or meet in a few years, or reunite here in twenty. But know that, wherever we land, I'll be cheering you on.