By: PAIGE FOSTER
Staff Writer
Graduation is the culmination of four years worth of work. That is one hundred and twenty-six million, one hundred forty-four thousand seconds that we, the students, have spent as high schoolers. Together, we participated in sports games, musicals, club events, choir shows, and dance shows. We survived online school. We studied for brain-melting math tests. Last but not least, we battled traffic in the school parking lot with exceptionally unwarranted confidence and blatant aggression. This list is far from comprehensive. We have all done something a little different with our time. Regardless of whether we spent our time in high school in the library, the pool, the Dutch Bros drive through, or even the discipline office, we now face one universal truth: Next year will be radically different. Our one hundred and twenty-six million, one hundred forty-four thousand seconds have finally dwindled. Today, we are closer than ever to the terrifying, exhilarating reality of growing up. One reason that this next year is so intimidating is that we will be forced to confront our preconceived ideas of what a successful life looks like. Among the myriad of life choices before us, perhaps the most overarching is the choice to either dream big dreams and risk big failure, or to dream small dreams and risk big regret.
I myself am no stranger to the fear of failure. I have been dancing since the age of three, but I didn’t take my first formal ballet class until sixth grade. I quickly discovered that I loved ballet, but I was behind in my training, and my dreams of dancing en pointe suddenly seemed childish. I wanted to quit the sport I loved simply because I thought I would fail. It is this same kind of fear that keeps many people from reaching their potential in their education, career, and family lives. Often, we reduce success to a single achievement. For each of you, your adolescent portrait of success probably wasn’t pointe shoes, but it very well could have been a GPA, a social status, or an acceptance letter. Later in life, it might be a job title. A wedding. A paycheck. The financial and emotional risk of failing to fulfill these aspirations is immense. So what should we do in the face of these risks?
We have two primary options. The first is to take the safe route and try to circumvent failure altogether. We could settle into dreams half a size too small and achieve them all, with the catch that we might spend the rest of our lives wondering what and who we could have been if we had pushed, persevered, pressed. The second option is for us to redefine success not as any particular achievement, but as a constant willingness to pursue our truest aspirations despite the risk of failure. After all, as Wayne Gretzky (and Michael Scott) once said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” My personal struggle with ballet eventually did earn me a coveted pair of pointe shoes. I have danced for the last six years en pointe, and those six years have confirmed that success was not the shoes at all. It was the humility, self-discipline, and poise I would glean from the experience of earning them. The lessons I learned were greater than the achievement.
Sometimes, we face prospective failure because of factors outside of our own control. During the pandemic, teachers, administrators, and students all struggled to adapt to the demands of online schooling. Today, it is fitting that we should pause, look around at this in-person ceremony, and celebrate the fact that El Diamante has collectively weathered a season of hardship from which we emerge a little more mature, a little more grateful for what we once considered normal, and a little better at using Zoom. Graduating is an achievement, but the tenacity, patience, and resilience we collectively learned is the real success.
More than likely, we have another one hundred twenty-six million, one hundred forty-four thousand seconds ahead of us. More than likely, we have even more than that. But we do not have infinite seconds. So, if there is one piece of advice I can leave my peers with today, it is to sign up for the dance class. To pursue the difficult degree in the field you are passionate about. To take the risk. Because fumbling and struggling – and yes, even failing – can imbue you with maturity, grace, and good humor like nothing else can. Odds are, if you go on to live the way I am describing, taking risks by unashamedly pursuing your passions, you will probably fail at something; but you will also probably succeed at something you wouldn’t have otherwise. Most importantly, you will be able to look back on your life and know that you paid yourself the respect of fulfilling your potential. Here is to the class of 2022: May we become the kind of people brave enough to try, humble enough to fail, and persistent enough to succeed.