The Invitation

Twenty five years ago, I finished elementary in the largest public elementary school in our quaint little town. Yesterday,  I got a call from them asking me to be this year's commencement speaker.  Politely, I refused.

At 30 something, I do not see myself as someone admirable or inspiring.  I have not achieved the aspirations I have imposed upon myself as an elementary graduate then.  I have wasted so many opportunities, failed so many people, made so many (shameful) mistakes, screwed up bigtime, and contented myself with just mere survival for so long a time.

But Mrs. A who personally extended the invitation changed my mind radically.  She explained that they want me precisely not because of my achievements but because of my "failures" which paradoxically, brought me my successes. She went on to explain that while I have not (yet) reached the zenith of my career and attained that which society highly esteems, they have seen me through my worst -- and as I rose from my brokenness to emerge victorious and unrelenting.  And that's what they want the graduates, the parents and the teachers to hear:  That while academic achievement can pave the way for so many wonderful opportunities, the victors are those too who, albeit bereft of recognition, material possessions, and accolades, still put up a good fight, keep their faith and despite all atrocities, simply refuse to give up.  That one need not belong as well to the top of his class, attend the most expensive school, or be endowed with great physical beauty and strength in order to triumph over adversities, achieve his dreams, and realize his true potentials.  So while I never saw myself as such, there are those who perceive me differently.

I was humbled.  I was in tears.  I never knew other people see me as one capable of inspiring or affecting others, especially young people. So yes, I accepted the invitation not because of an altered perspective but because I was convinced, I have a voice, and I have something to share.

As of now, I plan to speak of the things I wish I were told as a 12-year old, of the things I wish my parents knew then, and of the things I wish my teachers did too in the six long years I was under their stewardship. And I wish to make a difference.