ASIS SAN ANTONIO

On behalf of the BASIS Shavano class of 2022, I want to thank all of you for being here today to share this exciting and longawaited occasion.

I would love to begin this speech by extending our gratitude to every person who has contributed to our success. Unfortunately, such a feat would be impossible because, much like my in-class presentations, this speech would simply be way too long, perhaps going on indefinitely. I will, however, thank those who have been most crucial to our success. Administrators and teachers, not only have you kept the school running through extraordinary challenges, but you’ve also kept us thriving. You managed to find us a temporary campus when the Shavano building wasn’t finished, and you continued to mentor us even while keeping us safe in a pandemic that upended how schools operate.

Family, you’ve committed your lives to our success. You have put up with our teenage angst and supported us unconditionally in our academic and extracurricular endeavors. To our administrators, teachers, and family, without you, we would not be who we are today.

I think it’s safe to say that when most of us enrolled at BASIS, we knew that we would find ourselves amid some of the most intelligent, driven, and creative students we’d ever known. However, I wasn’t expecting to find myself among students who constantly took it upon themselves to help others succeed. Now, I think many of you know that I couldn’t give a speech without a literary reference or two… or three.

In his book titled Make Your Bed, Admiral William H. McRaven advises: “Make as many friends as possible, and never forget that your success depends on others.”

This quote has stuck with me because it perfectly reiterates one of the greatest values my classmates have taught me:

How powerful even we, as students, are in enabling each others’ success. After all, how many of us turned to our peers for assistance with AP Calculus or other challenging courses? How many of us showed up to student hours, seeking help from our teachers but receiving it from classmates, as well? How many of us shared rough drafts of AP Literature poetry essays, AP World History DBQs, or college application essays with peers who volunteered their insight?

We celebrate each other’s achievements as if they are our own, whether they be getting into an Ivy League or simply showing up to school when senioritis is at its peak. There aren’t many other student bodies out there who would so universally look to support each other. Perhaps even more impressively, there aren’t many other student bodies out there who could tolerate so many middle schoolers packed under the same roof.

We joke that the reason we’ve all survived is shared trauma, but I think our collective achievements are a credit to our collective character. Truly, the brilliance of our class goes beyond AP tests and SATs -- our class is extraordinary because, even in an academically competitive environment, we have an unwavering commitment to each other.

It’s not just the AP tests and shared rough drafts that have bonded us, though. As students at a school like BASIS, we’ve had some pretty weird experiences. My mind jumps to all those dances when we couldn’t afford actual music, so we for some reason decided to call in DJ King. Or when our senior Homecoming volleyball game ended up being the BASIS Varsity team versus -- drum roll -- the BASIS Middle school team… and yet, the Varsity team almost lost.

Another class favorite includes that glorious day in 9th grade when one of the boys’ toilets got clogged, and we begged the admin to just call it quits and let us have an early release until they finally caved. These moments all occurred during a “normal” year at BASIS, and last year, with the pandemic, was anything but.

Last school year felt like a fever dream, and if you ask any one of us how we managed to survive Junior year online, there’s about a 90% chance we’ll bluntly tell you that we have no clue. But when you really prod us to ruminate on these repressed memories, you’ll hear more about latenight study sessions with friends, Discord group calls that helped us stay connected, shared whipped coffee recipes from Tik Tok, teachers who blessed us with so, so many assignment extensions, and even the convenience of quickly reaching out to our teachers through Teams.

In short, you’ll hear about all the people in our lives who committed themselves to uplifting us. Especially over these past couple of years, our success has depended on each other more than ever.

Apparently, as valedictorian, I am supposed to share advice about how to be successful moving forward. In all honesty, I would appreciate some of that advice myself. I’m not going to claim to offer words of wisdom because I’m only 18, and I think we can all agree that I’m not the most worldly person in this room to share my limited life experience. What I can do is share two pieces of advice that have come to define me.

My first piece of advice is to remember that our success depends on others. Continue to uplift and rely on one other because in doing so, we have the ability to learn from a diverse array of people and to invite new opportunities into our lives. The more we acknowledge how profoundly others facilitate our achievements, the more successful we will be as we learn to lean on these mentors.

That leads to my second point: Take

Margaret Jones advantage of the opportunities around you so as to live without regrets. Now I will make another book reference (shocker). This one, called Rejection Proof, is about a man who felt that his fear of failing caused him to miss life-changing opportunities. He created his own form of rejection therapy by asking strangers absurd requests in the hopes of becoming desensitized to the pain of rejection. He chronicled every part of his journey, one of my favorite moments being when he asked a stranger to let him play soccer in his backyard.

What’s most shocking, however, is that many people actually complied with these requests. They supported him simply because they thought his journey was interesting. Apparently, it can do a whole lot of good just to take the opportunity to ask. I’m imploring you to do the same -- don’t live with regrets your entire life because you didn’t turn to that professor for a spot on their research team, or because you didn’t send that email asking for an interview at your dream job. Please, be fearless of failure because sometimes all it takes is getting your foot in the door or talking with someone who will support you simply because they want to see how far you can go.

I’ll be honest, I considered not including this next part in my speech, but for the sake of being fearless and living without regrets, I want to make sure this doesn’t go unspoken. I would never be who I am today if it were not for this class.

It feels strange for me to be sharing advice because I’ve looked up to every single one of you as my role model, and it feels even more strange when I acknowledge that the advice I’m sharing is something that I only know because you taught it to me. If this is how profoundly we, as a class, have been able to change each other’s lives, then I cannot think of any group of people better suited to change the world. So long as we live boldly, continuing to seek the support of others, none of our ambitions are out of reach.

Good evening, everyone! I would first like to thank you all for being here on such an important day. Thank you to Fr. Scott, Dr. Harris, Fr. Ben, faculty, and staff. Thank you, parents, grandparents, families, and friends. And thank you, especially to the class of 2022. I’m truly honored to be your Graduation speaker.

It’s hard to believe that four years later, we’re sitting in our grad caps, hours away from calling ourselves college students. It didn’t really hit me until a few days ago that I had to write a speech that was somehow supposed to recap these four years in only a few short minutes.

So as I began to approach writing this speech, I decided to turn to you guys to see what high school had meant, what you had learned these past four years.

Many of you said that you learned to be yourself. Or you discovered that you don’t have to change yourself to find happiness or friends. Maybe you found your passion and realized that you have to enjoy every moment because time flies by so unbelievably fast.

We have grown so much as people, as a class, because we lived a high school experience that was uniquely ours. These achievements, as small and unquantifiable as they may seem, are a testament to who we’ve become as people, and who we’ll grow to be in the future.

So yes, cheer and post on Instagram. Be proud that you showed up for yourself for four years–because now you have a diploma to prove it. Today is the time to celebrate each and every step we took to get here.

Class of 2022, just years ago, we began wandering around the halls of Coates, amazed that we could lose ourselves in a building that only has two staircases. Back then, the year 2022 seemed so far away, as if our graduation was more of a hypothetical question.

As sophomores, we faced relationships, sports injuries, and hormonal acne. We had to relearn what “school” meant as we sat in the confines of our own rooms, afraid to step outside. And when we began to recover junior year, we met new people, made new friends, and saw freshman faces we could not and still cannot recognize.

Now, as seniors, we start to feel time slipping away. The days begin to count down, but also who cares. Fun fact, parents: we have the worst case of senioritis that any TMI class has ever had. I am your first example—do not take a nap during your AP US government exam. Sorry, Mr. Ridewood.

I still remember sauntering up to Mr. Davis’ first period English I on my first day of high school. How is it that the angry, hormonal, awkward kids we were almost four years ago now stand here today, caps and gowns, ready to receive our diplomas? We went from sweaty freshmen to polished seniors just like that.

Yet, because of the pandemic, and the pipe bursts, and the raging senioritis, and the missing lots of school, I didn’t get to know each of you as much as I would have liked. So I cannot tell you just how grateful I am that we all had to write and give our chapel talks as a part of senior year.

I think we underestimate the value of giving a talk at such a young age. Sure, chapel talks may feel like a chore to write and a burden to deliver, but I honestly believe that they show us the importance of listening to, valuing, and understanding the lives of others. It takes incredible courage and trust in a community to share your story. And I think it speaks volumes that we seniors have such confidence, strength, and trust in this community that we are willing to stand on that podium and share our lives with the world. This year, I was given the opportunity to meet each and every one of you through your talks, and you taught me things that no textbook or lecture ever could.

Cali taught us to see the strength in our bodies, to celebrate every inch of our skin. Connor and Cruise, and their moms, showed us the courage of two matriarchs, and what it means to live in a world that does not always embrace their reality. Gunnar was brave to tell us the sorrow beyond that blonde hair and joking demeanor. Indigo proved to us that she is not a background character, but someone with the strength to do the things she wants and loves, no matter the crowd. Sergio, you tackled an enormous topic with such humor and wit that I will never forget the importance of your message. We have each left a piece of ourselves on that podium inside the chapel we grew up in. And long after we have shed our caps and our gowns and have gone out to face the world, our stories will continue to resonate inside that chapel as shining examples for every class that follows ours. There is a particular student here today who inspired me—challenged me, even— to make this speech more than an inside joke or a trip down memory lane. Her chapel talk speaks millions. It is the kind of speech that dares you to be a better person. And while I will leave Elise’s story to be told by her, on her own terms, I would like to include something–with her permission–that she wrote that I believe encapsulates my point in speaking to you today.

“While it’s worth applauding the bravery of each and every senior who has walked up to this podium and spoken from somewhere deep within, I think it’s even more important that beyond the podium, beyond the pews, beyond the chapel, we foster an environment where people can be unapologetically sincere.”

In only a few short hours, we will leave this bubble we call home and meet people from every corner of the world and from every background imaginable. There

will be no more chapel talks, no more chances to get to know your peers from the inside out. So, class of 2022, it will be up to you to become that example for others–because the open-hearted TMI community that so many of us treasure may not exist wherever we end up.

So, take that step to make others feel comfortable and loved, even if that means being uncomfortable. We all remember the bright lights, our sweaty palms, and our shaky voices as we took the leap to share our stories. It was terrifying.

But it is because of those long, jarring minutes on stage that we understand this daunting trust fall. And more importantly, it is because of your time on stage that you understand just how important and reassuring it is to have a supportive community at the bottom of that fall. Now, it’s up to us to be the community that listens, to be the community that inspires others to be themselves. This is the legacy that TMI has entrusted us with.

So, I encourage you—no, I challenge you, class of 2022.

I challenge you, guests, faculty, and staff, to lend your ears. Listen to the lives of the people around us. Embrace them. Love them. It might be uncomfortable. It might be difficult. It might go against everything you’ve ever known. But keep listening. Keep growing through others.

We may not all be storytellers by nature, but we all have a story to tell–one that deserves to be heard. And everyone who listens has an opportunity to learn.

Just four short years ago, we entered this campus as unsure freshmen. And today, May 19, 2022, we will exit as vastly different people from where we first began. So from the bottom of my heart, I hope that each and every one of you is proud of just how far you have come. I’m truly honored to have grown up alongside you. So thank you for allowing me to represent you today. Thank you for listening.

And thank you, guys, for letting me be a part of your story. See you later.

Sara Homma