As the school year trundles to its conclusion, optimism can be in short supply. True, the rainy, gloomy drudgery of midyear and the nervous ambiguity of university applications seem to be long and distant now, almost forgotten. Lengthy, overheated, sunny days are the norm, and the glory and grace of the ocean and the mountains with a city nestled beneath greet us every school morning. Yet, final assessments and year-end projects are abound, missing assignments and carping teachers hang near, and there always seems to be one more thing to fill out, to sign up for, to register, to complete. Moreso, the overwhelming sense of ennui, of disinterest, of “I’m done,” of a finish line just so barely out of reach lies heavy.
In some ways, there is a societal mirror, as we shrug off what feels like long-ago lockdowns, and take measure of what happened to us. As valuable as these past looks and reminisces are, graduation means as much as asking, “What now?” We’re finishing with that, where do we go from here? What is my hope, my optimism?
From time to time, I ask graduates what future ambitions they harbour. Some, rightly so, are vaguely unsure or only wish to pursue a general notion of happiness. Others have greater clarity. Michelle talked about being a linguist, and perhaps saving endangered languages. Maria discussed the possibility of enjoying the deepness of motherhood. Bruce might enter more lifting competitions. Jeffrey could be working in the mental health field. Eden, maybe a mathematician. Yufei, perchance a cosmetic chemist. Alexandra just wants to live fast. The list is long. You should do this if you ever need to find your optimism. Look into the sparkling eyes of our youth teetering on actionable adulthood, ready to enact the promise you know to be embedded within. For you can see the rumours and generalizations of a disaffected, unengaged, and indolent generation are only that. These are real people with the potential to accomplish real things while being real to each other and to you and me. “I just want to be with people I love,” said Ankita.
And lest you think it is all about lofty goals, inquire about some of those videos they have on their ubiquitous phones. I’ve seen the giddy excitedness of Michael and Cindy holding a fish they caught while fishing on a lake. I’ve been shown Esther and Cynthia running with careless abandon across sprinklers. There’s the young bad boy hairdresser fellow from out of town that Alyssa communicates with. Here is Megan’s sentimental tug at the heartstrings memories video. There’s one of Griffyn enjoying a car ride. When you see these, you want to be at this age, at this moment, at this precipice in time. Experiencing and living, maybe for the first time, new things, joyful things, little things in our oft-broken world. And in that carefreeness, you might find untried, uncynical seeds of optimism. And you might think therein lies a bit of youthful energy where a bit of that brokenness can be healed and set anew.
These soon-to-be stage crossers will be in charge one day. It will always be a shade different from when you will graduate or when you have graduated. New technologies and geopolitical forces make each past, current, and future graduate face a unique and different kind of world each time. Oh, this current group is up to the challenge, of that I’m sure. But if you ever want to know with certainty, then come meet them, ask them questions, build and create with them, challenge and question them, and listen and learn from them. Then you will know, then you will find your optimism.
Graduates, may I leave you with this? I know these high school years are distinctive for each of you. Some of you may look upon them with fondness and some of you less so. But here you all are getting on that parting train together. If there’s one singular thread that may weave through all of you, I wish it is a sweet hope, an unshackled optimism, a determination that you can, you will, you are. I believe it. Bruce Springsteen once sang a song about a train. On board that train, he declared, were saints and sinners, losers and winners, and kings and fools. “Grab your ticket and suitcase,” he said, “You don’t know where you’re going now, but you know you won’t be back. I’ll stand by your side. You’ll need a good companion for this part of the ride. Leave behind your sorrows. Let this day be the last. Tomorrow they’ll be sunshine, and all this darkness past. Big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams. Meet me in a land of hope and dreams.” A land of hope and dreams, indeed.
I’ll be waiting there for you.