Sixth Form Commencement Address by Matt Coppola

I wanted to say first that I’m still not entirely sure how I received this honor of class speaker. I started thinking about it and realized that on paper, I very well may be the least qualified candidate in our grade. After all, in the four years I’ve been here, I’ve never given a chapel talk, I’ve never even made an announcement in assembly, I’ve surely never made high honor roll, or normal honor roll, for that matter, I’ve never given a  single tour, and the last titles I was so honored to win before commencement speaker were “biggest procrastinator” and “most likely to sleep through class” – those are from our senior superlative page in the yearbook.

Nevertheless, I still stand, ready to vomit mind you, before a crowd that expects some closing words of profound wisdom to bridge this Millbrook ending with the unforeseeable future. Now you should know that this topic has been beaten so badly to death through poor chapel talks that it would be cliché for me to start talking about how I know that it’s cliché and to then continue reading my speech… So I’m just going to avoid that part and hope that by the end of this I’ve touched you deeply. I’d also be satisfied to know that in the time I spent talking, you’ve rolled your program into a tube enough times that it won’t lay flat anymore.

Anyways, let’s move on to the wisdom part. I mentioned earlier that I spent two years on academic probation, which, for those of you who don’t know, requires that I spend my evenings in supervised study hall to ensure that while I’m doing my work I behave myself – also that I make it known publicly when I need to use the restroom, and that I have severely limited communication with the outside world. More or less: prison. Despite the fact that this time is designed for homework use, I spent the large part of one term in supervised study hall reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace. How’s that for ironic rebellion? For those of you not familiar with the novel, it’s the type of book that I can appropriately joke about using as a dumbbell. That is, unless you’re one of the people who know how little experience I actually have with dumbbells. But within its hugely intimidating size was an important message, certainly applicable to everyone here today. Like most epic novels, the story follows the lives of a few main characters who each find themselves shaped differently by the unpredictable nature of the world around them. Their perspectives transform with every change of life that introduces their senses to something new, something yet to be inhaled.

At the end of our lives, we as human beings will be nothing more than the total sum of our remembered experiences. But more importantly, everything worth remembering, anything worth storing as a part of you until the end, will come to you as something you didn’t expect, as a surprise or an accident. Because it is only these moments in life that truly change us. It is not the result of deliberate, creative thinking on our part, but rather the unpredictable – events outside us which impinge forcibly upon our attention, events that we later rationalize into a new manneristic color, a new face, or simply a fresh thought.

I think our time at Millbrook has been one of these experiences for all of us. Which students weren’t overwhelmed at their first sight of our headmaster’s superior command and control over the outrageous flow of his hair? Coming into Millbrook, I don’t think any of us expected to be laughing at our headmaster’s hair.  I don’t think any of us expected that we would grow, change, and learn as much as we did. And I don’t think any of us expected to make relationships that may never die. But these are exactly the things we will remember about this place, elements that are now ingrained in us and will soon be a part of our history. Just as I will remember Mr. Casertano’s hair for being the subject of so much abuse, my supervised study hall proctors will remember me as the jerk kid who read War and Peace, only because this is not exactly something that students on academic probation are expected to do.

Looking towards the future, I suggest that as each of you, including those of you who are still playing with your program, approach it with not an expectation, but rather an anticipation of nature’s caprice. Relish in the opportunity of risk because all risks involve an outcome which cannot be forseen. But most importantly, allow yourself to be affected by the reward. For there is always reward to be found. Thank you Millbrook for being the memories that Alzheimers will have me preaching to my grandchildren. And to the Class of 2008, I wish you the best of luck. May each of you balance the motions of life with effectiveness and remember that human definition often comes in the form of a paradox.

Thank you all for four years I will never forget.