Samantha Wassell ‘11
Valedictory Speech
There is a point during Disney’s 1953 animated film Peter Pan at which Captain Hook turns to his first mate, Mr. Smee, and proclaims, “We've so little time; we sail in the morning.” If my time as an English writing major has taught me anything, it’s that most good writing—speeches included—open with a “hook,” and I found this one particularly conducive to the message I hope to convey today. I’ll reflect more on Hook’s insight after speaking about a few of my own.
When Becky Foster called me back in March to inform me that I was the class valedictorian, the first thing I felt was a gratifying mixture of pride, honor, and satisfaction. The second thing I felt (besides the corner of the coffee table I had walked into in my state of dazed stupefaction) was an overwhelming sense of panic. While I both recognized and appreciated what an honor it was to earn the distinction among so many intelligent women, the moment my mind made the inevitable connection between the words “valedictorian” and “speech,” I felt undeserving of the title. How can I make a difference? I thought to myself, the English major in me grimacing at my own use of such a cliché inquiry. What could I possibly have to say to these accomplished young women that will make an impact? What “words of wisdom” do I have to offer as they embark upon their futures?
The answer came to me as I was expressing my concerns to my mom immediately following that initial phone call with Ms. Foster: “Don’t worry about it right now,” she told me. “Take some time and enjoy what you’ve accomplished.”
Hmmm, my goal-oriented, collegiate-conditioned brain thought as it processed my mother’s words, there was a novel idea. Spend some time actually enjoying the fruits of my labor rather than devouring them at the first sign of ripeness, plucking the seeds from my teeth, and looking for a patch of fertile ground to start harvesting the next batch. Ironically, by telling me not to think about what I was going to say to all of you today, my mom equipped me with the inspiration I needed to figure out exactly what I wanted to say. So here goes.
Take a moment to reflect on the last four years of your lives. How much time have you spent thinking or stressing about the future—studying for exams, planning papers, making travel plans, organizing club meetings, filling out job applications, prepping for interviews, or mentally calculating how much money you’ll have to make after graduation to pay off your student loans? Now think about how much time you’ve actually spent enjoying those things for which you’ve spent so much time and energy planning. How long did you allow yourself to celebrate that last “A” you earned before you started worrying about the next test you had to take or paper you had to write?
Did you take a moment to smile at yourself in the mirror this morning after you put on your cap and gown?
Are you genuinely enjoying being seated next to your peers, surrounded by your friends and family, or are you worrying about walking up here in heels to receive your diploma without tripping and falling flat on your face?
This brings me back to my opening quotation by Hook. Despite the fact that he’s a manipulative, plundering, vindictive villain, Captain Hook raises a good point—pun intended: “We have so little time; we sail in the morning.” We do have “so little time,” and too often we spend what little time we have looking to the future, allowing some sort of timeline to steal away what could very well be the most meaningful moments in our lives. We fall into a pattern of planning for moments in the future, failing to appreciate and enjoy those moments when they arrive, and then starting the cycle over again. I am by no means suggesting that we—like Captain Hook and the other inhabitants of Never Never Land—refuse to grow up. On the contrary, I encourage you to set goals, pursue your passions, and look forward to the successes and pleasures that are yet to come. Just don’t allow your vision for the future to blind you to joys that are in front of you now.
My message to you this afternoon is a simple one: This is your moment. Revel in it. Enjoy it. Take a second or two to look around you, at all of the friends and family that are here to celebrate and support you. Acknowledge the accomplishments that brought you here, and take pride in those things. Turn to the women on either side of you and share a smile of celebration. Take a final stroll on the nature trails, spend a few minutes in prayer at your favorite chapel on campus, or share a laugh with your freshman roommate while you reminisce or exchange a private joke about your first few days here. Whatever you do, enjoy your final day as an official Saint Mary’s Belle.
I would like to thank the Saint Mary’s faculty and administration for giving me the opportunity to speak at today’s ceremony. I think I also owe a quick thanks to a few of the individuals who helped me get here, to this moment, so that I could enjoy it just as much as I’ve asked all of you to. First and foremost, I’d like to thank my husband, Andy, who’s been a source of both comfort and inspiration for me over the past four years. I couldn’t ask for a greater support system, a more loving companion, or a fiercer Mario Party opponent. Andy, you love me despite all of my oddities and quirks, and I love you for being the strongest, funniest, goofiest, strongest, and most passionate man I’ve ever met.
I’d also like to thank my family—Mom, Dad, Kyle, Matthew, Emma, a.k.a Booger (it’s a term of endearment, I assure you), and Grandpa. Mom, you’ve been my rock and one of my best friends during my time here. Dad, you’ve always supported me and let me know how proud you are of me. Booger, you never fail to make me laugh. And Grandpa, you’ve been one of the biggest and most loyal fans of my writing career since it began. I’ve also been blessed with some amazing in-laws, so to Mary, Pete, and Karen Wassel, thank you for carving out a little niche for me in your wonderful family tree and for supporting me in all of my endeavors.
Finally (and I’m almost done, I promise), I’d like to thank coach Jackie Bauters, assistant coach Becca Mason, and all of my cross country teammates. Your love, support, and laughter kept me sane during some hectic times over the last four years. And since you have all come to know and love—or at least tolerate—me for all of my inappropriate “That’s What She Said” jokes during practice, I would also like to apologize for my inability to slip any in today (clear throat). My coach, Jackie, deserves a special thanks: It’s not often that one is lucky enough to find a coach, friend, and confidant bundled into one compact—albeit ripped—package, but I had the fortune of finding just that during my time here with the cross country team.
Oh, and I owe one final thanks to a certain friend and teammate of mine, whom—upon learning of my valedictorian title—immediately texted me with a demand for a shout out: So to Miss Clare McVey, because I love you—and because I’m pretty sure you could take me down in a physical brawl—I’d like to publicly acknowledge your innate awesomeness.
As I close, I think I owe it to my English professors to make the most of the lessons they’ve taught me about good writing. I began this speech with a “hook,” and I’d like to end it the same way in which I’m confident all of you are going to make your entrance into the world outside of Saint Mary’s College (pop balloon)—with a bang.
Congratulations Saint Mary’s Class of 2011!