Graduation Speech - Original Writing

Nine years ago, I never could have imagined I’d be writing this essay. I was a senior in high school, and, like the rest of my classmates, I was apprehensive about the future. Unlike my classmates, I felt like I had missed the proverbial “you need to get your life together” message. I watched my classmates apply to colleges, their majors already decided and their future careers mapped out. While I was an above average student, I felt I lacked the decisiveness my classmates seemed to have. I did not feel passionate about a career or even a field of study. I felt defective. This was compounded by the financial strain I knew attending college would have on my family. It seemed wasteful to try to “find my passion” at school while squandering

It was the first day of school. Children, manhandled out of minivans, walked over precipitous hills, and crossed dangerous streets of monstrous cars wanting a bite out of any child that came its way. All to go to the sprawling, tan building for a full seven and a half hours of learning. Among those children, was a little girl. Her father urged her into the building, and made the usual remarks about how he’ll see her later, and for her to be a good girl. A teacher took her hand and guided her to the preschool classroom where she would spend the year.

I dreaded to go home. I couldn’t stand the sound of my parents voices arguing. It just didn’t seem right. The two people that I have known my whole life fighting. It just didn’t seem normal. All of these thoughts were rushing through my head just as the noisy school bus pulled up to my stop.

Setting my suitcase and bags next to my bed, I glanced around seeing that most of the things I kept here were where I left where I ha don 't them two months ago. summer break recently ended and class was scheduled to resume on Monday. It was my last year here at Maxwell College of Arts and I could already tell that this year was going to be stressful.

Every time I go out on a stage I look at the small piece of paper in my music folder, one with hand written words that now hold so much meaning to me. I think all the way back to the first time I sang in front of an audience and of the complete and utter disaster that it was. However, I also think of how far I have come. It all started in fourth grade when my school had their annual school talent show. I had sang in the church choir with a group of around twenty other kids, but this was different. I had practiced my song multiple times over, and had asked my friend to play the piano while I sang. The day I walked into the school will never leave my memory. It was so tense you could taste the anticipation in the air. I walked in and sat in my seat where I memorized the student I would come up after. Time seemed to speed up impossibly fast, and the next moment I was being called onto the stage. The only sound I could hear was the pound of my heart, and my friend fuzzily asking in the background, “Do you want to go a cappella when I turn the pages?” I nodded agreeably because I did not want her to know I did not know what the word meant. Now I know it’s meaning is “without instrumental music” ("A Cappella."). Too soon, we were standing on the stage, and I had started to sing the song. I thought everything was going well until it came time for her to turn the page and she stopped playing. I waited patiently as she waited for me to sing. We were both waiting, and the only sound

It was her freshman year. She walked into the school feeling more nervous and frightened than she had ever felt previously in all nine years of attending school. Quaking in her shoes, she roamed the halls, frantically searching for the right classroom, fearing a possible encounter with a senior who would more than likely karate chop her to the ground before she even had a chance to run. Every year that she could remember there was a new friend whom she had latched onto in an attempt to survive the year. Yet freshman year, as she became more acquainted with her surroundings and the occupants of the building, friends were found in people she never would have imagined. She had finally found the group of friends she knew would stay by her side her entire highschool career; or all of theirs anyway.

As I grew up I constantly spelled out my brother’s name backwards, instead of CHRIS I spelled it SIRHC or I would say things such as, “noodles spaghetti”. I assumed it was standard for kids my age. A few years later, during my first few years in school, my teacher explained to my mom that there was a high possibility that I was dyslexic. Due to this, that same teacher moved me into a slower class; a class intended for intellectually disabled students. Although the students in the classroom were lovely, I was furious that I was branded as “incompetent” or “sluggish”. After a few hours of analyzing this unexpected change, I panicked and decided that I needed to construct a plan that would get me back into the “regular” classroom. As soon as I got home that day I sat at the dinner table and read book after book. I read everything from my school books to cereal labels; I was determined to be placed back into the “regular” classroom. It took a few months, but after studying hours and hours with my helpful and optimistic mother I was placed back into the “regular class”.

The morning was as clear as glass. The sun shined through my window, waking me up from my sleep. The air tasted like water, as if I was tasting the Earth. I sat up to put on my slippers and walked to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and dressed to get ready for summer school today. I recently started, so I don’t especially know my way around. At the same time, I never wanted to go to summer school, but my teacher said it is mandatory to go, or I will get held back from grade level. Now that I finished getting ready, I walked out from the bathroom to the kitchen.

Today is just another normal day in seventh grade. I get to my Christian school, open my locker, and find all my stuff has been removed. There is a bright green post-it note that says “Get a life, loser...And if you want your stuff back, have a fun time looking for it,” I turn around when I hear snickering that sounds all too familiar.

respected that because he valued my education. I was expected to graduate in May of 2014 and we planned to get married in March of 2014 right before my graduation. Things were going well until late February I stopped hearing from him for 10 days. I was worried, he hadn’t deployed or anything, but what if he got hurt. He ended up calling me two weeks before our wedding date to say that he was not the man I should marry and that he needed time to get to get himself together. I agreed respectfully and said that we could wait. The following weekend, I was informed that he married a women he had met 5 months prior. I was put in a state of depression and tried to commit suicide. I stopped attending class during midterms which is when I found out and my life turned upside down. A few days later, I realized graduation was less than two months away and that I had to pull myself together. I did and I graduated that May with a 3.2 GPA. When I think of this experience, I think about my ego. Freud would say that my ego wants to meet my needs in a way that is sensible and takes all aspects of the situation into account before taking action. When the peak of this situation arrived, my ego needed to meet my needs of being hurt. I took everything into account, so what I did was focus heavily on my studies so that my brain was the focus and not my heart. My ego told me that my degree was more important than a heartbreak at the time so I managed to redo all my midterms and even pass my

Ever since I was a little girl my grades have been phenomenal. They used to take me into the principles office because they would swear that I would cheat on almost all my assignments and test. I will never forget the biggest struggle that I had to go through in primary school and that was when I skipped a grade.

I had been eagerly been anticipating this day ever since . The sun was beaming. A nice breeze was flowing. It was a good summer day. There was something different though. The second I came home from the bus, I flopped onto my bed and my eyelids instantly slid. It felt as if I had just rolled up a ball of all my stress and kicked it aside. I had just finished a laborious grade 8 and an exceedingly stressful last week of final exams. I couldn’t help but succumb to after countless days of sleeping late due to studying and homework. Unfortunately, I woke up to my parents calling me to dinner. Little did I know that this was my call to adventure.

BEEEEPP… BRRR… BEEP…BRRRRRR! My room flashed in front of me, quickly then disappeared. The morning sun peeked through my translucent curtains. Shadows of dancing branches appeared on my white walls. I woke up panicked at the sound of an alarm I had forgotten to turn off the previous night. How stupid could I be, forgetting to turn off an alarm clock attached to my own chest! Saturday morning and awake at 6 A.M, really?! I forced my eyes shut, but no use. After several attempts to get both feet on the ground, I began my day doing things I don’t usually do (12 P.M is my usual routine). Hmmmm? Six hours ahead of my weekend routine, what to do? After a quick breakfast of my usual free range sunny side up eggs, I got out for an early morning jog, quite a rarity to see me out on the streets at this time. I put on my shoes, and enjoyed the rest of my morning with music.

It’s been two years, and yet if somebody asks me about that day, my voice will crack. By “that day,” I mean the day I came home from MacArthur Elementary School to find my Golden Retriever, Honey, splayed out on the asphalt near our driveway, her head bashed open, her body lifeless but still warm. It’s an image I can’t seem to shake, as much as I try.

I was walking to school, like usually because i missed the bus again. My house was only four blocks away and it was a rainy day and a cold one too. When i finally made it to school everyone was already going to there classes .