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"Let go of the past." It's a phrase we endlessly hear in times of comfort, inspiration, or
exasperation. Take a minute, though, to consider what this phrase is really asking of you.
Where you came from; the people who shaped who you are; your values and morals and where
they originated; are these not all parts of your past? We've spent our academic lives
going through a specific curriculum of facts, equations and literature, but those aren't
necessarily the most important lessons we've learned. The years of adolescence are the
years of ultimate self-discovery, and we're living in those years right now. What we might
not always see is how even the seemingly insignificant things in our lives can actually shape every
precise detail of ourselves and who we are. For example:
I am from Boston. To you, that might just mean "oh, she's from a city pretty close to
here." To me, it's a lesson of loyalty. Whether our perpetual dedication to our beloved sports
teams or our somber yet resilient unity during the marathon bombings, it's hard to argue
against the fact that the people of Boston are some of the most loyal people to their
hometown that you'll ever meet. From a lifetime there, I acquired the same sense of loyalty
and applied it not only to my city, but to my family and friends as well.
I am from my mother and my father. To you, that might translate into "yeah, Amy, that's
how it works." To me, it's a lesson of persistence. When I look at my mom, I see a woman who,
twelve years ago, triumphed her battle with breast cancer. When I look at my dad, I see
a man who, a little over a year ago, conquered his own battle against a stroke and a heart
attack. Both of them overcoming these medical setbacks was a blessing, but both of them
bouncing back and continuing with their lives without hesitation, purely for the benefit
of their daughters, was an inspiration. From my parents, I learned the same sense of persistence
through any curveball thrown my way. I am from my older sister. To you, that might
just let you know, "oh, she has a sibling." To me, it's a lesson of strength. From being
forced to drop out of college for financial reasons, to having her heart severely broken
by the man she saw herself marrying, my twenty-four year old sister has picked herself up time
and time again. Never has circumstance stopped her—she instead gathers herself with pride
and moves on to whatever the next unexpected chapter of her life holds. From her, I learned
the same sense of strength in rolling with the punches.
I am from simplicity and sincerity. To you, those might just be words. To me, well, its
pretty straightforward; it is a lesson of exactly what it sounds like. Simplicity and
sincerity; a motto of a school whose brick walls shaped me for the decade I spent there. People of different
social classes and ethnicities from a variety of towns come together to learn, to compete,
and to express themselves at this private school in Brookline, Massachusetts. Through
my years there, I developed a friend group made up of blacks, whites, Hispanics, Asians,
Jews, Catholics—and that's no exaggeration either. When we're all together, we don't
even think about our differences, because in reality we're all the same. We're all just
people; people with a sincere love for each other. From them, I've learned that sometimes
life is that simple. Finally, I am from potential. I think we all
know where this one is going. In September of 2011, as a recent ninth grade graduate
from ten years of simplicity and sincerity, I found myself at a new school I had no previous
intention of going to that claimed it was going to teach me "the power of potential."
I was terrified to open up, because I felt it would make the distance separating me and
my old friends no longer merely physical, but emotional too. Eventually it hit me—although
simplicity and sincerity were valuable lessons, I had a limited perspective. I was subconsciously
starting learn the perspective of potential; potential of the world, of my peers, and of
myself. Three years later, some of my dearest friends not only originate from across Boston,
but now from across the world. And, since, I've reluctantly acknowledged that just maybe,
coming to this little boarding school in the middle of nowhere wasn't so bad after all.
Whether you're sitting in the back of this chapel, only months into your high school
journey, or you're sitting in the front, only months away from the end of yours, I encourage
you to look back and see where you came from. We're all in pursuit of a higher education,
but don't underestimate the education that comes from your past. The events of your life,
large or small, might seem like a long string of fading memories, but they're all a small
but crucial part of something bigger. To others, they may seem like simple people, places,
ideas—but only you know what each moment means, even if you don't really realize it
as it's happening. Sure, there are going to be times of sorrow or anger you're going to
want to forget, but instead of letting go, try taking a new outlook on it. Don't dwell
on it long enough to upset yourself, but rather reflect on how it shaped you and what you
got out of it. You'll be surprised how much you learn about yourself by simply recognizing
how each and every step you've taken in your life has lead you to exactly where you are.
Thank you.