This is what the teachers read to the students at graduation:
It’s hard to fathom that tonight is our final night together. This morning, I woke to the soft glow of the sun’s first rays spilling over the mountain you climbed just days ago. As I blinked into wakefulness, I saw Julia sitting nearby, pen in hand, writing her “Warm and Fuzzies.” Beyond her lay a row of you, still cocooned in sleeping bags, sprawled on mattresses you had pulled onto the porch the night before. You wanted one last chance to gaze at the Southern Cross and inhale the crisp summer air before heading back to the frost-blanketed landscapes of our northern homes, where the first whispers of winter await.
It’s surreal to think that tomorrow will bring the final zip of our duffles, the last shared breakfast elbow to elbow, and one final silent moment to welcome the day together. It’s been 104 days since we first gathered in a musty Los Angeles conference room under flickering fluorescent lights. Those awkward “hellos” now feel like a distant memory, yet our first glimpses of Zambia remain vivid, as if they were only yesterday.
The time between those early days and this bittersweet conclusion holds multitudes. Together, we’ve journeyed from strangers to friends, and from friends to family. I’ve seen each of you find your voice and learn to trust yourselves. I’ve watched you lean on one another during the hard days and celebrate each other on the good ones. You’ve learned to hold each other accountable while offering grace, and through it all, I’ve witnessed you grow.
This growth didn’t come effortlessly. In Zambia, I saw each of you wrestle with homesickness and the weight of unfamiliarity. While you arrived eager to make friends and explore the world, your hearts ached for the comforts of home. Slowly, you learned to hold space for both—allowing homesickness and adventure to coexist.
In Botswana, you faced the contrast of wonder and weariness. You marveled at the majesty of elephants while battling the unrelenting sand, heat, and sun. I know how desperately you longed for air conditioning and ice cubes, yet I also saw your resilience. You set aside physical discomfort to embrace the awe-inspiring beauty surrounding you.
In Namibia, you encountered the shadows of history—colonialism, genocide, and their enduring legacies. You longed to focus on the world’s beauty, but instead, the world challenged you to confront its darkness. As you wrestled with these truths, your minds stretched and your perspectives shifted. With this newfound clarity, you began to see and unpack the complexities of the world more deeply.
These moments, though challenging, have shaped you into who you are today. The courage, curiosity, and grace you’ve shown throughout this journey are a testament to your growth. As we prepare to part ways, know that the lessons, friendships, and memories you’ve forged here will travel with you, anchoring you to this extraordinary shared experience.
As we close this chapter, I want to honor the significance of this experience. This group—this constellation of personalities, dreams, and moments—has been uniquely ours, and it’s hard to imagine not waking up to your laughter, your strength, and your presence. Though we may never all be in this shared space together again, the threads of this experience will connect us, stretching across time and distance.
As you move forward into the adventures that await, my wish for you is to carry the lessons you’ve learned here. May you continue to trust yourselves, to face discomfort with courage, and to embrace the unknown with open hearts. May you find joy in the ordinary and extraordinary alike, and may the bonds we’ve created remind you of the strength and support that can be found in this big, beautiful, complex world. This has been more than a journey; it has been a transformation, and I am so grateful to have witnessed it. Go boldly, dream deeply, and know you will always carry a piece of this community with you.
– Sophie, Morgan, Caitlin, and Ellē
