Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
So listen. I've been thinking.
No, really. It's funny because a politician
could get up here where I am right now and they could
discuss politics, policies,
school policies, public education. And they could
discuss all of that stuff. The pie in the sky stuff.
That really does matter. And they could do it with justice.
They could do it well. And so could I. But that's not what
I've been asked to do tonight. Instead, I've been given a task
that's much harder. Instead, I've been asked to come up
here and, in 100 seconds, describe to all
of you how much I love my job.
Impossible. Words cannot describe
how much I love what I do. I don't care if you're the best
poet or writer in Sac County. It's not going to happen.
Words can't describe how passionate I am about my work.
You know, "work" is
kind of a funny word. Work. What does that mean?
Work. When I take out the trash on Thursday night, that's
work. Okay. Sunday morning,
I wake up, I don't really want to make the bed, but I do. That's work.
We don't work. Now, don't get me wrong.
Look around. I'm not crazy here. Look around. I'm in good company
tonight. You all work your butts off.
Yeah. But it's a little different, though, isn't it?
It's not quite the same. No.
Not when your job is your passion.
Not when you do the something that you love.
You know, as an art guy, sometimes I let my imagination go
a little bit. It's the theater in me, I guess. I don't know.
And I let it go. And I have fun with it.
There's one sort of crazy, hypothetical thing that has crossed my mind from time to time.
Maybe you can relate. It goes like this:
Imagine tomorrow morning I wake up. Better yet, how about Monday morning?
I wake up [snaps] and now
I'm a millionaire. So then I start thinking
about the particulars and the details. So what's changed?
I ask myself, "What is different?"
So, do I walk onto Folsom High School's campus?
Do I walk into Kathryn Allaman's office -- my principal --
do I look you in the eye, Kathryn, do I realistically say,
"Kathryn, I'm rich."
"I don't work for you anymore."
Do I walk into my art room, seriously, and look at Hannah
who's holding a masterpieces (you'll have to trust me on that -- she is)
and say, "Hannah, I'm not your teacher anymore."
If you have to hesitate and wonder what I do,
then you're not a teacher.
You know, there's this funny, crazy misconception.
It's kind of a cliché. I actually think it's kind of stupid. It goes like this.
(Maybe you've heard it.) "Life is short."
No, it's not. Life is long.
Now, I know that's all relative, but life is long.
Especially for someone who works for a living.
Especially to someone whose work isn't their passion.
Especially to someone whose work isn't
their love.
Tonight, I'm the luckiest guy on earth because
I'm in a room with all of you. I'm in a room with people that
I'm confident understand what I'm talking about
and understand these truths. Before I leave,
because I know they're going to kick me off of here soon,
I want -- can I please, because they're all over -- can I have my F.H.S. crew -- can you just stand
for a moment, please? Can you stand?
Cause you're over here, and you're over there, and you're behind me as well.
Look me in the eye because you know this already, but I'm going to tell you again anyway.
I've been given the foundation that I needed before I
got to you, but when I got to you, you folks -- day in and day out --
continue (and I'm looking you in the eye Kranal)
to give me the rock. You give me my home away from my home.
And you give me the foundation that allows me to share my
passion with the world. And girls -- and people -- like her.
Right behind me. Real people. Thank you. I love you guys. Thank you.