by Mr. Paul Collis

Writing a haiku for your graduation is very diffi…

Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, and, most importantly, grads, nostalgia is not what it used to be, and we are here tonight as much to reflect on the past as we are to gaze into the future, and upon reflection, my, my, my how far you have come. Let me look back to your humble beginnings. For example, when she was in Grade 8, Erin O’Shea’s science teacher asked her to describe a zebra, and she replied, “Twenty-five times bigger than an ‘A’ bra?” Erin’s great friend is Jane Griffel who, five years ago in Math 8, answered “What the Little Mermaid wears on her chest” as a definition of algebra. Of course, it wasn’t just the girls who had some cranial muscle yet to be flexed in Grade 8; I remember young Bill Yip sneaking out of his dorm one winter evening to go ice-fishing. Bill found some ice on Shawnigan Lake Road and was trying his best to hack a hole through the frozen surface when he heard a strange, deep, booming voice echo overhead: “Stop – there’s no fish.” “Is, is that you God?” queried Bill. “No, it’s the rink manager.” By Grade 10, things weren’t much better. I recall Ralph Lang waking up Mr. Neufeld one midnight, saying “I’ve been up for hours trying to complete this jigsaw puzzle of a tiger, could you please help?” Mr. Neufeld patiently replied, “Ralph, put the Frosted Flakes back in the box, and go to bed.” I remember the story of when Tom Dickens and Christine Pierce were out for a hike in an Outdoor Pursuits class and they came across some parallel tracks in the earth. Tom examined them and concluded that they were fox tracks, but Christine disagreed and asserted that they were deer tracks, and they were still arguing when the train hit them.
Even Grade 11 had its share of eyebrow-raising moments. Mr. Wardrop was teaching his very popular sex-ed class, and he told Nathan Cowie that a package of condoms costs $4, plus tax. “Tax!” exclaimed Nathan, “I thought they stayed on by themselves!”

But enough about the past – besides, it’s not my place to poke fun at who you were; I’m here to poke fun at who you are. Let me turn to the present, and make a brief announcement. Last Thursday, no doubt as part of a grad. prank, thieves broke into Privett House and stole the entire contents of the trophy room. I’m sure that the contents will be returned, but be advised that until then campus security and Mr. Garvey are on the lookout for anybody carrying a roll of four-foot square carpet. So here we are, joined together in this luxurious setting to convocate in style at this elegant hotel. Just a few moments ago I asked the lovely Sonya Rokosh what the soup du jour was on the menu tonight. She came back to my table about five minutes later and said, “It means ‘soup of the day.’” Speaking with grads over the past term – all except for Sean Foote, whom I have not spoken to for several months now, as I don’t like to interrupt him -- I have become so impressed with their maturity, their compassion, and their world vision. Katie Mackay, for example, wrote in a recent essay for me, “Life is an odyssey of struggles, full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you will find a hairstylist you like.” Yes, you have grown up, and grown wise; I was flipping through an advance copy of the yearbook, and examined the words that present grads chose to pass on, de manu en manum, to grads of the future, and I would like to read some to you now. Sensitive scholar Amy Van Vliet observes, that “A man who does not read good books is not different from a man who cannot read them,” and that is extremely wise. More wise, perhaps, than her cousin Marisol’s quote: “Never knock on death’s door; ring the bell then run away and hide – Death really hates that.” Then there’s Brooke Browning, who perhaps needs a new English teacher, as she writes, “A day without sunshine is like night.” Marlee Hahn observes that “In life, you get out of something what you see pictured on the box.” Stephan Macaskill reminds us that: “As long as there are tests, prayer will be allowed in independent schools.” Po-Yu Yen left as his legacy the following cautionary tale: “Once I left Whittall House on a Friday evening to go to the library to work on varying the syntax patterns in my compositions, and I did not return until Sunday morning, Mr. Felix was absolutely furious. ‘How would you like it, Po-Yu, if you couldn’t see me for two days?’ ‘That would be fine with me,’ I said. Monday came, and I didn’t see Mr. Felix. Tuesday passed, and still no sign of him. On Wednesday, the swelling went down in my left eye and I could see a little.” So, in the words of Sydney Black, “Where are we going, and what’s with this hand-basket?” Let us turn to the future.

Personally, I have often pondered what words I would like to hear at my own eulogy. It would be nice to hear someone say, “He was a great teacher,” or, “Boy, what a dedicated soccer coach,” but the words I would most like to hear at my funeral would be, “Oh my god, he moved!” Graduation is a time for looking forward, for taking the first bold steps on life’s career path. I know that Elise Findlay, for example, was interested in taking over her family’s origami business, but, unfortunately, it folded. For most grads, the next step on the journey will be higher education. Arts student Ashley Van Order notes, “An arts education will teach me many things, such as how to have contempt for the money I will not earn.” Chatting with Madeline Mcpherson – although she told me this in confidence -- about her post-secondary plans, she said, “As an adolescent, I aspired to lasting fame, and I thirsted for a meaningful vision of human life. So I am going to become an engineer.” This is like becoming an archbishop in order to meet girls. Yes grads, higher education beckons. Academics may lack drama at times – as Jill Dearden notes, “Working in academia is like throwing yourself in front of a moving glacier” – but, knowing you, I know that your futures will be anything but mundane. They will rock. Did somebody say rock?