Salutatorian Michelle Deng addressed members of both the senior and junior classes during the Baccalaureate ceremony, which took place on May 24. The honor of salutatorian is bestowed upon the senior with the second-highest overall grade point average. The transcript of the speech she delivered is here for you to read.

In the last few weeks, that perhaps-too-familiar wing in Main Hall leading to our beloved college counselors turned into a breathtaking gallery of senior collages. Looking at the photos, one might have felt that the members of the class of 2012 seemed so perfect—the babies were adorable, the teenagers polished and glowing. Lives were filled with friends, joy, youth, and love.

But these personas were careful constructions. Along with our families, we seniors sifted through our memories and put the best versions of ourselves out for the world to see. I myself didn’t make a collage, but had I made one, I’d have covered babyhood till around age six, dropped off the face of the planet, and been reborn as a sophomore in high school. As far as others would be concerned, the awkward turtle stage in between would never have happened. Filtration is totally understandable—I mean, why would anyone not want to be remembered as less than his or her finest? The problem is, it’s rather superficial. In our hearts, we know the whole story; we know how the collages of our beings truly look.

I’m not just speaking about physical qualities. We are collages of experiences—of the sights we see, the things we do, and, above all, the people we meet. We are collages of the moments that have left imprints on our personalities, knowledge, and desires—imprints which, though perhaps negligible in and of themselves, might combine with other moments to send us along very different branches of the infinite tree of possibilities our lives may take.

For most of us, many of these formative moments have come from Harker. I joined this school as a tiny girl of seven, short even then for my age, curious, proud but shy, with above-average aptitude for academics. Most of these qualities still hold true, but through infinite experiences with you all, I’ve become far more. Thanks to my brilliant teachers and peers, who continually inspire me to broaden my intellectual horizons, I’ve grown into a dedicated scholar, blessed with the honor to speak here today and eager to continue my education. Thanks to journalism, I’ve learned to communicate, inquire, lead, teach, make decisions, and roll with the punches. And thanks to my friends and teacher-mentors—who have made me laugh; broken my heart and pieced it back stronger; shown me poise, honor, empathy, kindness, and beauty; taught me to adventure and enjoy food; and had my back and helped me smile through storms of stress and sorrow—I’ve been reminded again and again that though the world can be cruel and I have much to learn, this life is the greatest gift of all. So today, the collage of my being is tinged with my innate qualities but pieced together from moments shared with you.

Likewise, all of you here are collages as well, each colored with your inborn natures, but built heavily of moments that unfolded within this community. We are thus distinct individuals with a shared origin, family members with a shared home. We are indelibly threaded through each others’ beings and collaged into each others’ lives.

And in this past year, a wondrous tumult of a school year filled with so many milestones of life, we’ve shared more and grown closer than ever before. Never would I wish for any group to have to experience losses like those we braved, but through them, we saw ourselves come together, catch each other, and hold each other tightly. Also, now that the pain has started to heal, we realize how deeply those we loved touched our minds, hearts, and souls, and that their lives still endure in our collages and shine through our actions.

On the flip side, we’ve also experienced the highest of highs—breaking records in CCS, being named Intel semifinalists, earning acceptances to dream schools, swirling in arms and colors and music during our final prom, clutching onto friends around that bonfire against a backdrop of Laguna waves. We’ve been reaffirmed in how wonderful it is to have the chance to live.

Together, we’ve loved and lost, rejoiced and grieved, basked in glory and suffered defeat, and still come out fine. Glowing in some places, scarred and raw in others, but overall, fine. If anything, we learned that even when the world seems to align in a vicious, almost-personal attack, we can and should fight and thrive. With this past year tucked firmly in our hearts, pasted front and center in our collages, we can face the future knowing that we can take on anything life may thrust.
That’s not to say, though, that we should just bumble along, thinking carelessly and hubristically that no matter what, our lives will work for the best, because we are forever works-in-progress. Not every moment is of consequence, but whether consciously or unconsciously, we do absorb the majority of our experiences, and we often can’t predict whether a moment will prove significant in the long run.

What we can do, though, is influence who we become by actively seeking certain moments, people, and experiences. Periodically, we can reflect upon our own collages and consider: what colors, what faces, what emotions are lacking? Which rhythms and patterns are beautiful as is, and which would we like to develop further or cover up? Then, we can go out and try to gather the missing pieces.

Juniors—your most turbulent, hair-tearingly-stressful, and delightfully precious school year yet is right around the corner. Even though at first, your year may seem to drag by as slowly and painfully as nails on a chalkboard, remember that starting early spring, it’ll suddenly begin shooting by you faster than you can ever imagine, and before you know it, you’ll be sitting in our seats. You truly haven’t much time left, so please do make the most of it. Pause to consider who you want to be when you graduate and which high school or home experiences you still would like, and seek them out before it’s too late.

Meanwhile, remember that your peers are simultaneously building their collages—which will likely include you. Underclassmen, in particular, will be looking up to you as the top dogs of the school. So as you go about your days, think: how do you want to be perceived? What kind of legacy do you want to leave? How do you want your life, your being, to touch those around you and reverberate within their minds and hearts in years to come?

And now, seniors. This is it. College will be a wondrously new, freeing place. Surrounded by new faces with stories worlds away from ours, we’ll be able to add never-before-seen colors to our collages. With few connections and preconceptions tethering us to the niches we occupied in secondary school, we can in a sense carve ourselves new identities. We’re not quite blank slates, though, for our collages will always contain the images from our childhoods.

For many years, I did nurse this wild idea that college would be my chance to be reborn. Thousands of miles away, in a transformation that would put Jay Gatsby to shame, I would shed all I didn’t like about myself and start a new life as my ideal incarnation. But now, when I really think about it, I realize that I’d never actually want or be able to dissociate myself from the past. As I’ve said, my values, personality, and dreams are what they are today because of my experiences, and even when I do want to change, my inspirations and my conceptions of the ideal stem from prior experiences. My past is the platform from which I hope to learn to fly.

What I’m saying, then, is that once a moment is in a person’s collage, it really is there to stay. We can’t turn back the clock; we can only build upon what we have become already, perhaps covering part of an old memory with something better or adding a new memory to supplement the older one. And in college, we’ll be able to build like never before. We can pursue our interests in unprecedented depth; we can step out of old shells and explore new realms—academically, extracurricularly, physically, socially. The potentials for growth are limitless, and if we channel our freedom well, we may be able to craft ourselves into better people.

While we shouldn’t lose sight of our roots, at the same time, it is time to let go. As hard as we might try to keep in touch, workloads will pile, we will find new friends, and simply because of the miles and time zones separating us, it will just be easier—and healthier—to move on. It’s unfortunate, but in the end, life is far fuller when we move with the present.

Besides, we will continue to find little things to remind us of one another. I know that in the months to come, whenever I eat Thai, hear “Don’t Stop Believin’,” or bake apple pie cookies, I’ll smile; when I see yellow paint, I’ll automatically think “warm cocoon”; and if I watch Pirates again, I’ll know that the Black Pearl was the fastest ship of all. If I feel lost or lonely, I’ll be able to close my eyes and return momentarily to the rolling fields and renegade cows of Mission Peak, to an evening of free froyo and friends and the cutest movie ever, or to a sublime sunrise on Top of the World. I’ll remember that there is love and friendship and joy and humor, and I’ll be able to face the world with renewed vigor. We are one school and one family, forever incorporated into each other’s collages, living within each others’ hearts, and supporting each other no matter how far we are geographically apart.
Thus one year closes, and the next begins, shrouded in mystery but shining with promise.

To the Class of 2013—congratulations on making it proud and strong. May you carry the torch high in the coming year; may the odds be ever in your favor.
And to my Class of 2012—I love you guys so much. Let’s go shake the world.