To the Class of 2022: From Eleanor G. and Jonah T. (‘22)

By Eleanor G. and Jonah T. (‘22)

Here is our final installment of our three-part blog series featuring this year’s graduation speakers. This week, we feature our two selected student speakers: Eleanor G. and Jonah T.

Eleanor: There was a time in my life when writing a speech and then sharing it with you all would have been petrifying. I went to Catholic school and every grade would have to lead one prayer service throughout the year. Believe it or not, I was the quiet kid. I flew under the radar so much that my classmates' parents would ask if I was new…in eighth grade…after having gone to school with their children for nine years. So of course, for our third grade service, I had to read some bible verse to the whole school. In the days leading up to our prayer service I felt terrified. I cried to my parents and told them I didn’t want to do it. They said, and I quote: “you’ll live.” But when it was time for me to recite my verse to the school…I read the wrong lines, and when I realized my error, I said “oh no,” mumbled the correct verse, and started crying the moment I sat down. But, and mom and dad, I want you to please savor this moment, “my parents were right–I did live and now, here I am speaking to all of you. 

Jonah: The skills that are a struggle when we are 12, 13, 14, may seem simpler than what we’re facing now, especially when I look back and think, “How was that ever hard? I had nothing to be afraid of.” That’s definitely true to some extent–navigating bus routes, ordering food, or emailing a teacher are not particularly difficult; and right now they are all things I wouldn’t think twice about. But for 9th-grade me, figuring out how to do those things was difficult. Especially for young people, who haven’t yet made many major life decisions, the process we use to come to our conclusions may be more important for determining our success (or lack thereof) than the conclusions themselves. That’s a realization I had while writing my final philosophy for George. School isn’t about learning how to do things the “right way,” because the “right way” doesn’t exist (at least I haven’t found it yet). The most powerful feedback I received at the school had nothing to do with the assignment itself. Instead, it was comments like, “Hey Jonah that thought was really interesting,” or “That was a really insightful question, keep asking those questions” that really left an impact because they gave the impression that my ideas and contributions were valuable to someone other than myself. 

When you really, truly internalize the idea that your work and ideas are valued and respected, it changes the way you interact with the world. That is the most profound gift The Downtown School has given us. The version of Jonah that you see standing before you today simply wouldn’t exist without the experiences I had here. 12-year-old Jonah would not have been able to imagine that other people would take 15 minutes out of their day to listen to what I have to say (to be honest I still think that’s crazy). 

Eleanor: Despite our early reticence with the art of public speaking, we are so honored that our classmates chose us to make this speech. If you had told freshman me that I would be giving a speech at graduation, or that these are the things you and your classmates will face during the four years, and that these are the mistakes you will make and this is how you will get back up, it would have been unfathomable. That’s in large part because we didn’t know what to expect. Remember that first day, Jonah? As the first class to spend all four years at the Downtown School, we did not know what the school would be yet. In betting on a school that didn’t yet exist, we were given a stack of blank pages, and a lot of faith from the adults in our lives (thank you parents, and teachers) and told to write the story. On those pages, we drew little doodles, wrote big long stories, added maps, and other things. We boldly went to school where no student had gone before. (any Star Trek fans in here?).

Venturing into the unknown is scary. Being the first one to do something is too. You have all done this and have thrived while doing it. That is something to be proud of. 

There is this idea propagated by the zeitgeist of coming-of-age stories and bildungsromane that there is a point in our lives where we will have it all “figured out.” At that point, it is rumored that the top-tier education, perfect grades, ideal job, significant other, friend group, mental health, defined sense of purpose, and whatever else will fall into place. The jury is still out on whether this is real, but as a class, we embody the idea that it is not this magical place of order that brings value, but the messy process of figuring it out, drafting the story, that changes the world. 

Jonah, do you remember the first City as Lab we ever did?

Jonah: George took us on a City as Lab to this stone pillar in the middle of the sidewalk down on First and Cedar. He  told us to figure out why it was there. 

Eleanor: For about a month, the most interesting thing in our lives was this 3 foot pillar in the middle of the sidewalk. 

Jonah: We emailed every city department we could think of from the SDOT, arts and culture, and neighborhoods until someone got back to us. 

Eleanor: Some of the best sleuths in our class learned that the pillar thingy was part of this unrealized concept that every bus stop on first avenue would have either a micro park or public art installation.

We are four years older, so we have a lot more wisdom (theoretically… maybe… probably). We suspect that the point of the assignment was less about why this rock was actually there, and more about the process of identifying the mystery, and asking questions: trying to figure it out.

Since then, we have continued to be curious, (sometimes to a fault–ask our physics teacher), and have persisted in the face of challenges: shoutout to virtual school and our convention of 1968 (that’s the only time we will bring up COVID).

Those moments make us a little smarter and a little more resilient so the next time we encounter something hard, or scary, we know that we are going to be okay. To paraphrase the great screenwriter, Aaron Sorkin, “when we see our friends fall in a hole, we jump in after them and tell them. That 's okay because I have been here before and know the way out.”

We’ve skated around one of the things that is going to be hardest to let go of as we move on to whatever is next: the connections we have made with the people here. Yesterday, (if that gives you a sense of when we wrote this speech) my dad asked me about one of my most significant friendships I have had during my four years at The Downtown School. He asked me to summarize what I learned from it in seven-and-a-half words. (What is a half word?) I shot for seven, so I told him, “people don’t change, but they do grow.” I learned this from getting to know my friends at The Downtown school and also getting to know myself better as I navigated those friendships. I’m still the same overly enthusiastic two-year-old, the same awkward middle schooler, and nervous 9th grader who could not have pictured what the next four years would contain. Jonah,how are you the same?

Jonah: The kind of growth that Eleanor talks about going through, and I think I’ve experienced as well, doesn’t happen in a vacuum. There’s no way that I would have become the person I am today without the chance to build something new with the class of 2022. It’s an odd group of people, the kind who take a leap of faith on a school that was only a vision when we first signed up. The people who found clubs, try new curricula, build benches, put on shows. The kind of people who find joy in the struggle of building something from scratch. To help give an example: How many in the audience have heard of the word “quandivilous”?  Don’t worry because it’s a word that students in the class made up a couple weeks ago. I think that spirit of creating something new is what made the last four years so much fun. To borrow Eleanor’s hole metaphor, we jumped in a hole together without knowing the way out, and managed not only to dig ourselves out, but to build something even better along the way. The wonderful thing about being surrounded by people who aren’t afraid to make mistakes, is that you start to do those things, too.  

Eleanor: We basically have it figured out now (well maybe…kinda…sorta…never mind). That means it’s time to move on to start something new. It seems a little scary. There is some sadness too (Jonah, I don’t know about yours but my parents have cried. I think that's because I do most of the cooking). But we have been here before, we have been brave and ventured boldly into the unknown, and we can do it again. 

We know that “figuring it out” takes time, but we have also learned that it's overrated. We are at our most powerful, our most courageous, creative, and wholehearted when we are still trying to figure out. 

Class of 2022, we are so proud to be your classmates and we can’t wait to see what you achieve as you navigate whatever adventures you find yourselves embarking on. 

We leave you with this: stay curious, keep your hearts open, and when faced with the unknown, hold tight to your courage and your friends and march on!