Each year, several seniors are selected by their class to deliver speeches at graduation. The three seniors chosen this year organized their speeches as three parts working together to create a shared moment. They bracketed the series with a participatory “rain storm” at the beginning and a traditional Watershed “clap out” at the end to mark the moment. This blog post contains all three individual speeches within the beginning and ending bookends they created.
Ash O’Rourke ‘24 asked everyone attending graduation to create a “rainstorm” together. Ash led the room in a left to right sweep of hand rubbing, finger snapping, thigh clapping, and foot stomping crescendo and then decrescendo. Ash then delivered the following remarks to the members of their class.
Ash O’Rourke ‘24
The rainstorm we just created was to center us here. Here we are, together, experiencing a moment that will never come again. Like the many raindrops of a storm, we are all unique individuals that, when placed in community, become the best of ourselves.
———
Some 14 billion years ago our entire universe fit into a sphere the size of a marble. Some 14 billion years ago the matter of everything we know from the brains of my fellow seniors sitting before me to the rocky rings of Saturn, from the lithium in your phone's battery to the dust and hydrogen found in nebulas millions of light years away.
All matter fit into something the size of a marble– and then, just like all things, change. The Big Bang. And suddenly, the universe expanded outward. Rapidly. Faster than any of us can truly conceptualize.
This is the paradox of the human experience. We are growing apart from each other, not just because of whatever social qualms you might have, but also because the universe is quite literally expanding outward as we speak. Once at home in our tiny marble, we are now hurtling through space, trying desperately to grasp onto what was once close to us and today is so, so far away.
We are the same matter, always, just configured in different ways. And it seems, like with all things, that as soon as you get used to that marble, as soon as you figure out the edges of its landscape, your life shifts, either in totality or just a smidge. In both cases, change is inevitable. And we find ourselves pulled from all that we once knew, left to make sense of our existence in community again.
This is a truly terrifying and paralyzing thought. The fact that we are so unbelievably small and insignificant is enough to send anyone into existential crises, but, perhaps we can consider this in a different way:
It is only because matter has arranged itself in infinite ways, and that it has the fundamental tendency to change– that we are here today.
As an example, let me paint the picture of a singular moment for you:
Imagine snow falling out of the sky. Not the kind of light and fluffy snow that evokes a magical feeling, but the heavy, almost sleet type of snow that makes you grateful that you have the warmth and comfort of a home or hot drink. Good. Now place yourself into a too short sleeping bag on a 2 inch thick sleeping pad that keeps deflating, beneath a 4 by 8 foot tarp– outside– in that snow.
That was my 8th grade solo. An experience that seemingly was the result of a series of poor choices. You see: that situation would likely have been more easeful had I simply brought more food out onto solo, or checked the length of my sleeping bag, or fixed my pad, or, even more fundamentally, did not go on that particular trip to begin with. These are all choices I made which I deeply regretted while staring up at my neon orange tarp. But at some point during solo, I think I recalled that pondering the past was not a very uplifting way to spend my time, and instead, I turned over and started to journal. And, after the hours had passed, the snow stopped, I crawled out of my tarp, and breathed a sigh of relief.
We can allow ourselves to get caught up in the past moments of our lives when our present moment is uncomfortable– but luckily, moments pass.
And, with the hindsight of several years, I can say that the moment I spent shivering in my sleeping bag has since branched into even more moments, and if you follow those splits far enough down you will find this moment, a moment that would not exist without all the moments that came before it.
And isn’t this a pretty great moment to exist in?
Matter is always moving, so we must learn to take snapshots and moments that give us insights to our own lives. The fact that we each live lifes with infinite moments behind our present existence and yet find connection in each other is a miracle.
The fact that Amir and Rebecca had hot water for ramen and hot cocoa upon my return from solo was a miracle.
That fact that I am standing here, sharing this moment with all of you, IS a miracle.
This marble is tinted by more than infinite things. Because as we zoom out, as we start to consider the makings of moments, if we start to pull the moments apart from each other, a near impossible thing to do in and of itself, we start to realize that everything affects everything.
And while this is a deeply overwhelming thought, it also grants a sense of hope because if we can make the most of as many of the tiny moments we have as possible, then the change begins to ripple and cascade. Which means that we must focus on the here and now. The infinitesimally small ways we treat ourselves, each other, the planet.
And truthfully, if we wish to succeed in saving all this, in mending this tattered web. We must start with the tiny fractures regardless.
We must first work to heal:
This moment.
This moment.
Graduating class of 2024, I am so proud to see all the ways we’ve learned to live all in and I’m even more excited to see the many ways we learn to do this better in the future. I hope you embrace all the highest of highs and lowest of lows and I hope they help you grow. Help you evolve and change. I believe that each of you will go forth with a voracity to live fully, to live with your feet planted in the present but with a hopeful glance towards the future. You’ve got to let yourself fall– because who knows what’s yet to come.
And to all the matter of this moment. To all the matter that spans to the far edges of our universe. To all the matter that’s configured itself in infinite ways in the past so that we can arrive here now.
Thank you.
Thank you for everything.
Ben Sisenwein ‘24
Good morning.
Seven years ago today, I had just graduated elementary school and was on the verge of beginning a new chapter in my life. Middle school. I was unsure of what to expect from Centennial Middle School, but a few days later I received a letter informing me of my acceptance to Watershed. At first, it scared me to even think of going to Watershed because I had an overwhelming fear of homesickness whenever I left my home for more than 8 hours. I begged my parents not to go to Watershed,
but they said no.
Before I knew it, summer was over and I was about to embark on my first Watershed trip to the Great Sand Dunes National Park. I was petrified. The night before, I begged my parents one last time to not let me go,
but they said no.
Like the teachers said, my parents told me this trip would be an opportunity to build character. Being the 12-year-old I was, I thought they were crazy and just wanted to get rid of me for four days. But in the end, I was wrong.
I’d like to say this trip went by smoothly and I had an amazing time, but that would be a lie. To tell you the truth, I cried the entire 4-hour bus ride to the sand dunes. I cried when we set up our tents, and I cried before we went to bed, and I’m certain the teachers loved that. But on the last night, there was a moment when I finally understood why I was there. The entire 6-7th grade, a couple of teachers, and I, hiked to the top of a sand dune at about 8:00 p.m. We wanted to celebrate the final night of the trip by playing with light-up frisbees, burying teachers in the sand, and running up and down a dune. I had a great time.
After a while of running around, I decided to find a nice place to sit down and stare at the stars. This is when I noticed Jeff Osgood (one of the many amazing teachers at Watershed) sitting on top of a sand dune journaling. I asked to join him and he agreed. At that moment, staring out at the abyss of flashing frisbee lights, stars, sand, and the faces of fellow classmates, I realized why I was here.
Fast forward six years later— I am on my very last backpacking trip with my advisory. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry on this trip,
but I did.
I wasn’t crying because of homesickness, but because of the memories I’ve shared with my advisory and the many amazing people at Watershed I’ve connected with. They say the people you choose to surround yourself with will impact who you become, and based off my experience with these people, I am confident I have become my best self. The people at this school are some of the most caring, kind, courageous, inspiring, and thoughtful people I have ever met in my entire life. I ask all of you to continue using these characteristics of yourselves to help others become their best selves. It meant everything to me, and I am certain it will mean the same to them.
Before I end my speech, I would like to leave you with one last thought— why I came to Watershed. I came to Watershed to become the person I never thought I could be. A leader, an independent thinker, a world traveler, an artist, and someone who seeks community. Whether I’m backpacking through the Indian Peaks, dancing on a farm with Kenyan students, singing my voice away to karaoke in San Francisco, speaking with experts who believe in conspiracy theories, or passing the pulse during Community Meeting, I’ve learned to inhabit these different characteristics of myself and will continue to do so on my next steps towards college. I’m grateful to every teacher, classmate, and faculty member for inspiring me and the senior class to push ourselves to be the people we never thought we could be.
Thank you.
Scout Sherman ‘24
Hello, family, friends, faculty and the graduating class of 2024.
Before I begin, I want to be honest with you all. These past couple weeks haven't been easy. They have been a struggle as I cope with the fact that I am leaving Watershed and all the people I love. I know I am not leaving for forever, but it is a big change full of many emotions and I just want to acknowledge that. Each senior and each family may feel differently but we all are experiencing this huge moment together.
Find your sparkle, I know it sounds kind of cheesy, but THAT is what I think defines life. If the term sparkle doesn’t land, you could think of it as magic, light, or essence, whatever feels right to you.
At the center of your universe, your soul sits, and everything else that orbits around you is important, but truly finding what lights you up is your real journey. Your light and sparkle can easily get dampened or diminished through life and the process of growing up. Knowing this, you have to surround yourself with stars and a galaxy that shines bright and makes you better.
I arrived at Watershed halfway through seventh grade, ready to roll. My time here did not detract or leave me with treacherous tales that many and most depart high school with. If anything, Watershed, and really the people within it, helped to enhance and grow my sparkle, giving me stories and adventures to tell. The breadth of what I learned from my six years here is expansive and deep, but some of the really important ones have been learning about human connection, talking with others, finding my flow and place in the world, and the importance of community, leadership, and positivity.
Watershed led me to things that make me sparkle and shine. Creating opportunities for me to discover my passions and be who I am meant to be.
During our Borders trip sophomore year, we helped the church we were staying in receive a group from Cuba seeking asylum. We laid out clothes and toiletries of all sorts: shoes here, t-shirts there. Steam and water seeped from the bathroom as people came in and out, preparing to leave for their final destinations. I jumped in and befriended two men, who were looking for shampoo and cologne. We laughed and talked in a broken form of English/Spanish/ and charades. I smiled a lot and we giggled together. Before leaving they gifted me an old buffaloe penny to thank me for the help and the connection we made. That moment from that trip will forever stick with me for many reasons, but most importantly, I found it sparked something within me: A love for creating connections and seeing and understanding the realness that makes someone else who they are.
Backpacking this past year was a trip full of trials and tribulations. Waterlogged and sick, we had many moments of difficulty. One night, Tesla, Evan and I took cover under our tarp just after dusk as thunder, lightning, and rain lashed down on the forest. Slowly, the water trickled under our fortress, the small droplets eventually transformed into a gushing stream with little pine needle boats floating past. Slightly distraught, we all sat there in a lighting position. record skipping. That moment could have gone one way or another. We walked the tightrope between crying or laughing. We chose the latter. Utilizing the notorious orange poop trowel, we dug ourselves a moat and laughed through it.
After having enough wilderness moments, I have realized just how important friends and nature are, and how looking on the bright side can elevate any situation. That night could have been miserable, but we turned it around. The earth, and being in nature, helps ground me and bring me back into my center. Whether or not the experience is sunny and perfect or rainy, it still is good for me.
Junior year I took a class called “Biotech and the Future of Medicine” with Jenn. This class was extremely fascinating. We learned about a wide variety of things like our immune system and how all of our cells work too, researching new and upcoming tools and procedures in the medical field. For our final project we got to choose our own research topic. Somewhere I had heard about this thing called the microbiome. Completely unknowing, I decided that that is what I would be looking into. Pretty quickly I became fascinated with the topic. I was like a hound on a scent. The more I read the more I wanted to know. Even as the science got complicated, I was completely enthralled. Keira, my partner and I secured an interview with one of UCLAs research scientists and professors. She spoke to us in depth on the topic answering all of my questions. My brain was overloaded and I could feel excitement exuding from every pore in my body. Anyone that asked me about the project was in for it. I would gush.
Even now I still think about it, mulling over everything I learned, curious to continue my research. This project was like fireworks over a calm lake in my brain or a Rube Goldberg machine shooting out so many new thoughts and ideas for me. It all stemmed from the freedom and opportunity Jenn gave me to have some independence and ownership over my work.
These three moments make me sparkle in different ways, but come together to help paint the picture of who I am. Although they are each different glimpses into my story, the key component is Watershed. These moments and many others wouldn't have been possible if not for the school. Watershed has been my bright and bettering galaxy, each faculty member a star guiding me, opening up windows or wormholes, into other dimensions of my being and my sparkle.
Class of 2024 and everyone here, I encourage you to uncover your sparkle if you do not already know it and embrace it, even if it is not the norm. Find that feeling or thing that keeps you up at night, when your brain is running free like a wild horse, exhilarated. Latch onto those moments that make your heart fuzzy and leave a warm lingering feeling within you and listen your intuition when it leads you to something new. Enjoy life and have fun, do things that make you happy, but also push yourself. Trust your bright light and follow it. It isn't worth it to ever, deny your magic, shine bright through your entire life.
One last thing before I end: I want to say thank you to the Watershed faculty. Thank you for loving me and encouraging me. I believe that all of the seniors can say that we all have created a special bond or had a special moment with one teacher or staff member. The teachers and staff love and care constantly, and I am so grateful for that. They are committed to teaching, nurturing our spirits, and helping us on our way to blossoming. Over the years, I learned that if I give and put my heart in, they will too. Like my advisor Becky, who takes the time to bake us our favorite kind of cakes and cupcakes on our birthdays, or Hannah who shows up for me every time I am sick before May Term, Or Chris who deeply cares about each of his students and always. Comes. Through.
Thank you for listening, Remember to sparkle.
Much love.
Scout Sherman
Scout then called her co-speakers, Ash and Ben, back to the podium where, together, they led the room in a full-group “clap out” to properly close the moment that was their Senior Speeches. Scout explained that Watershed begins every Community Meeting with a two-clap “clap in” and ends each Community meeting with a one-clap “clap out.” The sound of then entire room beginning and ending their time together with an in unison clap is grounding.
CLAP
