Or rather: Jenny Spoke… And The Crowd Politely Applauded.
so last friday, i hauled my near-frozen carcass up on the rostrum, for the very last time, to deliver my *ahem* valediction of sorts.
i was hopping around backstage prior to my turn, in an attempt to get some circulation going, and to thaw my numb vocal chords. you see, i had just done the unthinkable: i had gone for six hours without food, and two hours in miserable air-conditioning. that, coupled with my growling stomach that emitted rather loud crunching noises, as well as my stage fright, was the perfect recipe for one thing: ON-STAGE FAUX PAS. as expected, when i went to the rostrum to give the goddamned speech, i was like a parrot on steroids: hopping, nervy and vibrating.
truth to be told, i can’t recall what happened next. words started coming out of my mouth like vomit, and i was preoccupied at looking at this boy, sitting in the front row, who looked like he had petrol for lunch. strangely enough, the sight of him comforted me. There, at least I’m not the only one who feels like crap, I told myself. And i rattled on, with my gastric activity providing background music.
the most poignant thing, though, that I do remember, and will probably remember for a long time, was the applause. at the end of it all, it was that sound, the sound of hand slapping hand, that really mattered. i didn’t give a hoot about whether i had moved my audience, or if they remembered any word i uttered. it was the applause, the sound that shook the stage a little (no kidding), that really rang deep in my heart. it was worth it. the hours of mulling over material, the endless censorships thanks to my teachers, and getting the stuff into my head.
perhaps it was just polite applause, from a sedated audience. but in my mind, the crowd really did go wild. and to every single soul who clapped: THANK YOU. i didn’t wait for the speech; i waited for the moment. and thank you, The Crowd That Went Wild, for making that moment happen for me.
for all you dear honeybuns, here is my original, uncut, uncensored valediction speech. this is not for the faint-hearted. this is for the souls who have time to kill.
Good evening, distinguished Guest of Honour, Mr Chua Hun Cheong, Mr Ong, our Principal, Mr Toh, our Vice Principal, Parents and Teachers.
And, a very special ‘Good evening!’ to the stars of the show tonight, the Ladies and Gentlemen of the Class of 2008.
It is with great honour and privilege that I stand before you as the valedictorian. Yes, I know how long and scary that word sounds. But let me assure you that my speech is neither long nor scary, and I’ll be off this stage in a few minutes. You can relax now.
Today the 10th of October 2008, has been a very nostalgic day for me. As I was ironing my school uniform this morning, I recalled how long my skirt was when I was in sec 1. When I first wore my new school uniform and stood in front of the mirror that morning, I thought to myself: “Am I going to school, or am I getting married?” You see, besides being all-white, my school uniform resembled a wedding gown: My skirt overlapped my socks, my legs were hidden, and I actually fell down many times because I stepped on my skirt.
How many of you remember bus 962 at the Sembawang Campus? I do. I remember packing myself like a sardine on board the bus daily. And thanks to my 1.54m height, I had the dubious honour of standing face-to-face with many different armpits.
That was back in the year 2005, when we were all just excited 13 year-olds fresh from primary school. Some of us still remain that way. But now, sitting in this lovely MPH of ours, with ICs in our wallets instead of Pokemon cards, we Sec Fours are about to sit for a crucial exam: the O levels.
We can take heart though, that our teachers will be there for us. In fact, they’ve been there for us for 4 years, whether it’s been telling us to tuck in our “brouses”, to “commemorate” students for returning lost items, or simply giving us friendly reminders like “Junfei, can you take out your YEE-maths textbook?” Thanks, Mr Vijay. Our teachers have had sleepless nights marking our illegible scripts, coaching us after school, or simply picking us up when life brings us down. They have ultimately taught us something, whether it’s a subject or our inner selves. So on behalf of all graduating students, I THANK YOU, teachers.
If there’s one word to describe the class of 2008, the word is: ROJAK. Like a plate of Rojak, we are one giant assortment of different personalities. Some of us can’t live without basketball. Some of us, however, run away screaming when any kind of ball is thrown at us. We are all gifted with different abilities. However, like good authentic Rojak, the sauce that binds all of us together is thick and strong. CCHY, as much as we joke about it, has been good to us. We hate to admit it, but some of the best moments of our lives were spent here, be it during CCA, camps or even during lessons itself. In our 4 year Chung Cheng journey, we’ve discovered the joys of friendship, the pain of analysing SBQs, and the opportunities life has to offer. Best of all, we’ve discovered ourselves.
This evening, as we walk out of the MPH, with graduation certificates in hand, some of us may think: “Phew! At last! CCHY is all over and done with!” But I can assure you, my dear friends, that although we may leave Chung Cheng, Chung Cheng will never really leave us. The friendships formed here, the experiences we’ve had, are more valuable than the O level Certificate we’ll be getting next year. When we face a crisis in our lives, neither SBQ nor Pythagoras’ theorem is going to come and save us. What will save us, though, are the values, principles and life lessons we’ve learnt here in Chung Cheng.
This evening, as we walk out of the school gates with big dreams for the future, let us remember that life isn’t just about answering the questions. It’s about questioning the answers. And that includes your own.
To all the ‘brides’ and ‘grooms’ of Chung Cheng, C’mon. Let’s throw off our veils and kiss life in the face. I hereby pronounce you the class of 2008!
