On the occasion of my departure from St. Thomas More Academy, Raleigh, North Carolina
Every year, newly minted St. Thomas More Academy alumni disembark
for colleges and universities near and far. Every year, at least for those who continue
to sail in this sea of contrary tides, there are new faces to recognize, new
names to memorize.
Through all the change, STMA remains the same. Ask any
alumnus, and he will confirm that it’s true. Yes, the hallways are paneled now;
yes, the chapel looks spectacular. Yes, the courses are streamlined. Every four
years, the students are all new, and even the faculty come and go. Yet STMA
remains the same Catholic, classical, college preparatory academy, and all graduates
need to do, no matter how long they’ve been away, is walk the hallways for the
memories to come flooding back.
The enduring nature of this fine institution is worth
reflecting on, especially as seniors prepare for commencement. The yearbooks
have been distributed, and everybody is depicted—at least twice, I’m told. There
will be a valedictorian and salutatorian whose names will be engraved on the
plaque that hangs in the hallway. Some senior’s thesis will bring that student
praise and renown. Indeed, at graduation every single senior’s name, regardless
of class rank or academic prowess, will be read off for everybody to hear, to
mark down, to remember.
Everybody wants to be remembered; everybody wants to endure.
Everybody wants the goddess to sing of his or her brilliance for all
generations to come. Really, though, who will remember that you walked these hallways?
Who will page through the old yearbooks in the center, point out your picture,
and reminisce about the years when you were filling these hallways with joyous
noise?
Goodness, even teachers want to be remembered. Some of us have
taught at STMA for a year, others for a few years. Still others have invested
their professional careers into making this school the institution that it is,
and especially that it is becoming. But, God willing, this institution will
outlive even the longest teacher tenure. Not even teachers are immune from the
ravages of time.
If you’ve made a mark that will endure, it has not been, nor
will it be, on the sports field, neither by having your name engraved on one of
those plaques up front, nor by being singled out for praise at commencement. Indeed,
if my fellow teachers and I have made a lasting impression, it will not be in
the A’s, the B’s, and the C’s, or in the little Luddy Lecture yearbook blurbs, as
finely written as they surely are.
If any one of us, teacher or student, has made a mark that
will endure, it is in each other’s souls, and in the soul of the school, for
Cardinal Newman says that even institutions can have souls. Students come and
students go; goodness, as I prepare for my own next adventure in Wisconsin, I
know well that even teachers come and teachers go. Yet to this day, I have fond
memories of my own high school—of the teachers who challenged me and of my fellow
students, and friends, with whom I grew and matured during those four formative
years.
Memories are not ephemeral. Though the details fade, they
are an indelible impression upon the soul. You are different for having walked
these hallways, for having sat in these classes, for having been challenged day
in, day out, in company of these teachers, these fellow students, these friends;
these happy few, this band of brothers.
So take STMA with you whenever you leave, whether it be next
week, next year, or, for a select few, at the end of a long, happy, and
prosperous career. As the years pass, let it be with flowing cups freshly
remember’d, for such happy remembrance is the lifeblood of the soul. So shall
it be with me; so should it be with you, too.
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