By Naomi Eisenberg
One day, early freshman year, I fumbled my way from the second floor six thousands across what seemed like mountains to the field house. I dragged myself up the stairs to the girl’s locker room where one of my teammates looked at me and burst out laughing: “Naomi, I cannot believe you did that.” As I had walked through the hallways that day, I had done something horribly wrong. Apparently, somehow, somewhere, I had pulled my underwear over my shirt halfway up my back, attracting much unwanted attention as I gave everyone I met a really strange first impression. I hid my face for a while after that, and I lost any self-confidence I might have had.
I had walked with the eyes of a freshman, with such determination and such fear, that I was only looking forward when it would have been preeetty helpful to look behind. We’ve spent so much of these past four years only looking forwards. Now, in what may be our final moments together as a class, we have an opportunity to look back, hopefully not at a self-imposed wedgie, but at some of the things that have made us who we are – both personally and as the Class of 2014.
Earlier this year, as we faced the darkest winter so many of us have known here at South, in the wake of tragic loss, I joined in a wave of anger and criticism. I felt, like many of us, that we were not being heard by our school. The events of this year brought to the surface doubts, insecurities and pain that we may not have even been aware of. And it made us question ourselves, our ability to cope, and our sense of what was really important.
During that time I wrote a poem titled, “Three down, how many to go” I wanted to send it to the administration, to the PTSO, to the city council. I wanted Newton South to understand what I thought, at the time, it was doing to its students.
But before I sent the poem out, I read it to my father and he told me just to wait. And I did. And I realized that I felt angry and critical, not because South intended to cause me harm, but rather because I felt lost, searching amidst the debris of persistent tragedy for a clue as to it all meant. My anger was displaced and I needed someone to blame.
This year has been hard. But the pressure South has put us under was not meant to crush us. It was meant to help us grow, to show us that although not everything will go our way, that gray days and unbearable sorrow are sometimes inevitable, we still have the power to come together. Look at the moments where instead of seeing each other as opponents, we saw each other as allies. Look at our ability to unite- to fight for powder puff, even if we did lose, to get through the tough crazy college and job prospect stuff, and to realize that nshshookups is all made of fluff.
Just look at each other; mathematicians and scientists and dancers and poets all sit in this room, all of us so ready to move on with our lives, but maybe not so ready to let go of that little bit of glamour that exists in high school life. Maybe we’re not so ready to let go of that one teacher who went the extra mile for us and made us love the act of learning, whose influence changed the way we thought and spoke and acted, who fed our intellectual curiosity, whose generosity of spirit and time never declined. Maybe we’re not so ready to forget about silly high school parties and drama and the memories we’ve made together.
We have much to be proud of as a class. Look at our Members of south senate that have changed the dynamic of this school, players on our record breaking Hockey team, Actors and Actresses that have brought tears and laughter to the hearts of so many. All the quirky, talented people in the class of 2014 make us what we are.
I recently re-read that poem I had written and realized that I had been interpreting my own last lines wrong.
The final lines of that poem went like this:
“We owe each other a chance to survive and to thrive,
So please, help us grow from the blow.
Three down, how many to go? ”
At the time, it was a plea to the administration. But I now realize it was a plea to us, to our class, to each other. And we answered that cry; we’ve given each other a chance to survive and to thrive by supporting each other. I’ve seen more people say “how are you?” or stop and help a stranger who dropped their books in the hallway in the past five months than I have in most of my time here at south. What happened this year doesn’t define us, how we take the lessons from this year and handle them; that’s what defines us.
I started noticing the graffiti too- it’s changed. Earlier in the year, under the staircase in Goldrick, someone had written in large black ink, “If you can read this, you shouldn’t be alive.” I went back more recently and saw that someone else had scribbled out a part of it so that it now reads, “if you can read this, you are awesome.” We ARE awesome, and we HAVE grown from this blow; we now understand more deeply the value of community, the value of human interaction, and most importantly, the value of hope. So much hope for the future sits in this room; with the support of those around us, we can become anyone.
We, the class of 2014 are moving on. Knowing this, I’ve spent the past few days attempting to see Newton South once more through the eyes of a freshman. But we aren’t freshmen – not anymore. Not yet. We know these halls, these teachers, these challenges, these friends. These walls have enveloped us and nurtured us. They’ve given us the essential gift of education- the challenge to exceed our mental limits, to risk and try and grow. Hopefully we’ve each had a time where we could hear the echoes of out footsteps reverberating through these hallways, where we’ve felt invincible, if only for a moment.
And at this moment, we gather at a commencement. It is the end and the beginning. As we go on from here, we all walk again with the eyes of fresh men and women. The vulnerability that we once had will allow us to grow and face new challenges. The threshold of possibilities is unlimited; the paths we can take are infinite. May we all take the liberty to feel the liberty of walking with the eyes of a freshmen, may we make new intimate connections (while keeping the old), may we remember to question the world around us, and don’t ever worry about first impressions, even if you too walk through the halls with your own self imposed wedgie.
To the class of 2014, may we always walk with the eyes of a freshman, with our experiences that equip us with the strength to face the future.
Four tremendous years down, so many to go.
