Salutatorian – CB Special Class of 2026

Good morning parents, faculty, and most importantly, the class of 2026.

First off, congratulations! Despite having been at collective risk of failing calculus and Spanish throughout the school year, we have made it. We are free at last. At least most of us. I still have the insurmountable challenge of delivering this address without lulling half the crowd to sleep. So, to avoid doing such a thing, I must first admit that the writing process for this speech was agonizing. I tried incessantly to recall any memory that could serve as the foundation for a wise and thoughtful discourse, only to be met with constant remembrances of the silliest and most inconsequential of moments.

I recalled the heavy eyelids and bewildered looks after any of Posso’s exams. The echoes of countless crashouts caused by the horrors of Physics Honors. The tension before being brutally clowned by the monsters I call friends for asking literally any question in class. And finally, the buzzing notifications of those few truly remarkable individuals who patiently waited until 11:59 to ask if there was an exam the following morning, even when it had been clearly announced for over two weeks.

In the frustration of trying to figure out why all the meaningful memories had seemingly vanished to be replaced by silly, mundane moments, I slowly realized the answer was right under my nose—for the whole point of the high school experience had been the recollection of those silly, mundane moments. 

Without having lived through each of the small events that made up each day of the last few years, even those tainted by feelings of exhaustion and stress, none of us would be who we are today. 

And, to me, life is nothing but a progressive series of challenges that seem insurmountable at first, but that with dedication and a twinge of self-deprecating humor, we slowly rise to meet and overcome. 

Take the case of the salutatorian standing before you today, for example. Just last school year, I was ranked 11th in the class, and my GPA did not even come near the threshold for honor society. Yet, over the course of the last two years, after pouring sweat and tears into my studies and skipping maybe one too many parches, I got to graduate with the babero and everything. 

Now, as cliché as it sounds, I wouldn’t have bet a penny on myself that I would be where I am today—and here you have me. Maybe that’s what we should always strive towards: living plentifully and doing things thoroughly, as though life were a problem-solving exercise. You might just achieve goals you never even knew you had in the process. 

Of course, as anyone who survived physics with Juanca can probably tell you, struggle changes you, for the better or worse. And so it may seem daunting to go out into the world and submit yourselves to a permanent struggle in service to your respective vocations, with no guarantee of success. But I wouldn’t wish for any of you to be discouraged by this. For in the past eleven years I’ve been here, I have seen every one of you overcome a myriad of challenges in pursuit of your goals. Beginning with the fact that even though we are all extremely privileged to live the lives that we do, we consistently showed up for our education, among many other things, and now we get to celebrate this special occasion. And that leaves me with nothing but the utmost pride and respect for all of you. 

So, as someone whose fundamental principle for life is SUWS, short for screwing up with style,  I encourage you to keep struggling. Take that class with the terrifying discrete math teacher. Play that pro tournament. Challenge Miguel to an arm-wrestling match. Start that business. And do not be afraid to fail and fall on your face spectacularly—embrace the beautiful mess of chasing something bigger than yourself.

That said, I know struggle can become incredibly overwhelming. So in those moments, hold on to the small, silly things that have made you who you are. The Mole jokes with Charly in AP Stats. Every single lunch break spent cackling like psychomaniacs over absolutely nothing. The parties at Cubi’s farm. Life has a surprising amount of whimsy in it if you stay open to it, and trust me, you’re probably going to need it.

On a final note, I would like to express my infinite gratitude to our beloved school. To all the teachers who graded me nicely, and maybe the ones who didn’t too—you were all invaluable to our personal development. To the wonderful staff, including but not limited to Sandrita, Andrea and Liz, who were always unconditionally there when you needed them. To my parents and siblings for always supporting my enormous deliriums, which keep growing exponentially by the minute. To my grandfather, may he rest in peace, for instilling in me a love for learning. To God for all the blessings he has given me and frankly all of us. And finally, to the class of 2026, with a special shoutout to my friends, for making this school a place worth coming to, even on the days I had seven summatives.

In summary, 2026, go out there and SUWS.

Thank you.