Dear Those Kids Who Are About to Graduate

So, class of 2017, it's almost over. It seems like just yesterday I walked into my room and discovered that the a/c only alternated between Hamlet's father's ghost by day hot or Dante's center of Hell cold. I discovered a few more bumps in the road, but I also discovered all of you. And that has made all the difference.


Things move very quickly from here on out. It seems like just yesterday I was a senior (We be cool. We be fine. We be the class of '89).

Yes, that's a power mullet. 

Before I knew it, I was this guy:

Try to remember who you are right now. Reflect on these years and what it meant to be a part of this group:

IB rolls deep.

The thing I will remember most about this year? How much we laughed:

and laughed

and even how Blanco laughed:

I rarely made it out of the safety of the IB hall this year. The only football game I made it to was a road one, where we waxed Lake Highlands (my wife's alma mater) 52 to 10. I did, however, see your spirit every week (well, your love of overalls at least).

Serious IB gang faces.

I tried my best to never force my own ideas on you this year. The best English teacher is literature that makes you figure out what you think, not bald mansplainers. I did, however, force you to join anywhere from 11 to 372 Google Classrooms. I made you listen to a Hole song from 1994. While I didn't force you to, many of you bravely chewed the kola nut. You also bravely tackled some big ideas along the way, from what you want out of life, to what life wants out of you, to what exactly "you" means. 

You also contemplated the idea of war and violence and what that achieves and what it costs.

We read some great literature along the way. Camus proposed the idea that life is absurd and meaningless, then a series of increasingly bleaker works drove that theme home. Finally, Cormac McCarthy taught us how to hope in a world that has been destroyed. That should come in handy as you leave here and start adulting. Hopefully, you got something out of all those words. 

Speaking of words, if I may be so bold, I'd like to offer you a last reading list. I have compiled some poems I think it would be a shame to leave high school without reading. You do not have to read them and consider to what extent the author's use of metaphor reflects the Asian diaspora. Just read them and talk about them with someone you are going to miss. 

You might rather listen to some things that will make you think about the nature of redemption and identity or the things you'll understand when you're older or really any of these podcasts.

You could also spend these last few days figuring out how many of these skills you already have and which ones you need to learn. Maybe you need to learn how to acquire some of these skills before college. 

As you know, I am not big on human emotions, so I will end with my usual advice: make good choices. Thank you for letting me pass through your world.