Valedictorian Speech

How did it get so late so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before it's June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?

There are three types of criers in this room tonight. Moms here are crying because their little snooky wookums is leaving them. Dads are crying because, now, more of their money is leaving. Younger brothers and sisters are crying because their chores are not leaving and now they're going to have to do all of them.

Everybody here probably already knows who I am, but just as a reminder, I'm Jacob Roeland, geek extraordinaire. Oh and if you are new around here or just plain forgot, let me just remind you that the bathrooms are in the lobby area in the back. If you're not sure where that is, ask anyone but these guys on the floor because they'll probably ask you to bring back some tissues.

But you know, there really is a fourth crier in here tonight, us graduates. We're crying, whether we show it or not.

We're crying because everything we've ever known is about to change. High School is something that all of us wearing these fancy hats are comfortable, and happy, with, whether we'll admit it or not. And that ends tonight. We're changing from something that we know, and sometimes love, and heading out into the unknown. We're about to enter the "real world", a world where a kiss from Mom can't always solve everything, a world where you won't get a slap in the back of the head from Dad because you've messed up. And that scares us.

We're crying because we're leaving loved ones behind. Moms, Dads, Friends, Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, Dogs, Cats, Horses, Rabbits, Ferrets, and yes even that younger, annoying sister. We're leaving many friends behind still in school as we go to college or start careers. We're trading the ability to see them every day to see them only once on the weekend. We're crying because we won't be able to see our parents at the end of every day like we're used to. And that hurts us, even if we don't show it.

But you want to know the real reason? We're crying because of these dadgum gowns. This gown is just another symbol of high school to us. We know that as soon as the pictures are over and the robes come off, we'll get our diploma and high school will officially be over for us. There are no more tests, no more jokes in the hallway, no more Bloons Tower Defense in the computer labs, no more laughing in the classroom. So yeah I guess you can say that we have the right to be crying right now. Well the fact that it's like 120 degrees in here doesn't help either.

I started with Dr. Seuss and I'll end with Dr. Seuss.

You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. You are the guy who'll decide where to go.

"Ho, ho, help me!"

This is a bell ringer I did in my Personal Development class. The topic was: "Ho, ho, help me!" came the voice from the chimney.

"Ha ha, help me!" came the voice from the chimney. Of course, I didn't hear it. I had my iPod playing rather loudly, listening to Bing Crosby. The guy can sing, let me tell you. Anyways, the voice in the chimney tried again to get my attention, but it was futile. Ole Bing wouldn't let him. So the voice took a different approach and started singing "Here Comes Santa Clause". He sounded not entirely unlike Bing. I took out my earbuds and listened again. That definitely was not Bing. So I looked up in my chimney and saw him. He was a big guy, but he wasn't wearing a red coat. It was black though that was probably from all the soot in my chimney. So I yelled at him.


The large, black object moved and wriggled and said in a deep jolly voice, "Yeah, kid, it's me, Santa." So I jumped up and down with glee; Santa finally showed up!

I went to get a rope and then lassoed his foot. After several tugs, he finally came loose, plopping down in the hearth. After the soot and dust cleared there he was, just as I had imagined him: large round man, red coat covered in soot, and a black tobaggon. Many might be surprised by the tobaggon, but I knew it was because that red cap of his was no use in keeping him warm when flying around 80 mph. I helped him up and went to get his cookies and milk. He ate and drank, then set the plate and glass aside. He pulled out a cigarette and lit up.

"Now, to business", he said.

I showed him where my parent's keep their jewelery, and he put that in his bag. He pulled out a $100 bill and gave it to me (The last few years they had been counterfeit but this year he promised it wasn't). After the exchange he walked out the front door but not before joining me in a duet of "Silent Night". I heard his car rev up and then he was gone for another year. Me and Santa do this every year. It's sort of our Christmas tradition. I heard another voice from the chimney: "Ho, Ho, Ho. Jacob, help me!" But I knew it wasn't Santa; I just saw him leave. A red cap fell. Santa must have left it in the chimney for me. I picked it up and put it on. Then I sat back down on the couch with my new hat and my $100 bill and listened to Bing wish me a merry little Christmas.