To the Class of 2024: Rather than try to teach you something as if I am some know-it-all sage on the stage, I thought instead I would share with you what you have taught me over the last four years because you have taught me a lot, and it’s been the essential stuff that all of us need to focus on to be happy and to be better people.

I could talk for a couple of weeks about all that my newspaper seniors have taught me, but I have been told three times before today not to speak for more than five minutes, so—to get close to that goal—I am just going to thank them for being such a big part of my life and hope they already know the countless things they’ve taught me over the past four years. Besides, many of them are in this first anecdote.

I would like to start by addressing the seniors here today who had their screens turned on every day in the virtual classes we shared on Zoom when you were freshmen. You know who you are, and I promise I always will, too. I know it was hard for students to do school on Zoom, but it was hard for us teachers, too. I often doubted that I was reaching anyone, but in those dark moments of doubt, there were brave, thoughtful students who saved me by being present in my classes when they absolutely did not have to be. I know some people needed to turn their screens off for valid reasons, so I don’t judge people for that, but to those of you made a point to turn your screens on and show me you that were in the room and that you were willing to listen to whatever it was that I (and your other teachers) had to offer, I just want to say thank you.

Thank you for demonstrating to me that being truly present when another person is trying to connect with you is one of the greatest gifts you can give to another person. Those moments of virtual human interaction sustained me through a tough teaching year and gave me confidence in my abilities and, more importantly, showed me the type of person I should try to be for the people in my own life. I may not always be as good as you were to me. I may reach for my phone when I am supposed to be paying attention, but I know—thanks to the class of 2024—that being truly present when you’re with someone is the most important thing to be.

I was impressed with another specific group of freshmen that year (now seniors this year)–the fearless freshmen who were promoted immediately to the girls varsity basketball team because COVID made it so there were only enough players available to field one girls basketball team at Mac. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like to be thrown to the wolves as ninth-graders, but if those first games and that first season were a little rough, at least only your parents and coaches were there to see them in an otherwise empty gym, right?

But then the fans returned and game after game, season after season, you embraced the challenge put before you, growing individually as players as the program around you grew similiarly in stature. Back-to-back district championships, the first since 2006, and a bi-district title this season, the first since, crap I meant to look that up.

But it’s OK because it’s not essential to this speech, because winning titles and making history is not the heart of your story. What I learned from watching you together is how wonderful it is to work so hard at something, knowing that you are part of something bigger than yourself. Anyone who saw you all interact together at a game, at a practice, in the hallway, anywhere, could see without hearing you say a word, that your bond of friendship transcended the game you played together. I wish that feeling for everyone here—now and well into your future.

But there’s more that I have learned from you than even this. Francie Wilhelm wrote the excellent Shield story about you all as your high school basketball careers were coming to a triumphant close. Before I edited the story for the first time, I expected to read about wins and losses, the pressure of the playoffs, and to be sure those objectives were there, but they were overshadowed by your commitment to teaching the younger players in the program.

More than wanting to win games, you told Francie that you wanted to leave the program in a better place than how you found it. We all should be that way about the things we love. I hope that when my day comes to walk away from this school community, that I am able to live by the same values and fight for the same goals. Thanks for showing me how to embrace being a part of something bigger than myself.

Of course, the girls basketball program isn’t the only sports team that has lived that story during the past four years. And sports aren’t the only activity where people have come together for a noble purpose. McCallum is a great school because there are so many places and so many activities where that happens. If I tried to list them all, I would leave one out and this speech would most assuredly exceed five minutes.

But in thinking of all those school groups, I am reminded of one other lesson that I learned from you all, and it took place in a place that I seldom visit: the orchestra room. As she was distributing yearbooks in the spring of 2023, then junior Meredith Grotevant suggested that I go with her to distribute yearbooks in the orchestra room so that I could take #dayinthelifeatMac candid photos for an Instagram post. I didn’t know then that she was playing me for a sucker and that the real reason she wanted me to go with her was so that Mr. Pringle would not mind her interfering with that day’s essential rehearsal and pass out the distracting yearbooks she had to distribute. Meredith is pretty savvy like that, and her plan worked. We got in the door, and she got her essential work done, but that’s not the point. What amazed me was how the yearbook distribution went down after Meredith started passing them out.

The rehearsal never missed a beat. When Meredith called each student’s name, the orchestra student smoothly put down their instrument, silently walked to the corner where Meredith was passing out yearbooks, then silently returned to their seat, set their yearbook under their seat, picked up their instrument and rejoined the song in progress.

Now having advised seven McCallum yearbooks and 10 others in my previous lives, I have seen a lot of strange things happen during yearbook distribution, but I have never seen a group of people so disciplined that they could ignore a brand new yearbook and remain focused on their shared classroom objective. It was like synchronized swimming and orchestral music all swirled together for one impressive display of collective focus.

It is no secret that our orchestra is a first-rate outfit. To hear them play is to know this instantly, but I saw that day the reason they are so good: because they are committed to putting in the work every day, to get better, no matter what. They were all great musicians when they woke up that morning, but the way they approached their class time together showed me that they knew that they could be better individually and better collectively if they accepted nothing less than a complete commitment to improving … every moment of every day they had the chance.

Thank you Mac orchestra students for reminding me that time is a precious resource and that I should never settle for being good when I can be better tomorrow if I put in the work today. I am reminded that at 56 years old that I still have learning to do, improvements to make, to become the best version of myself.

And so I reach the conclusion of my hopefully close to five minutes. My hope for you is that you continue to be the amazing people that I have been so blessed to know: present for those around you, a part of something bigger than yourself and committed to always learning, always growing, always improving.

I am so grateful to have gotten to learn from you, and I can’t wait to see what great things you will accomplish as you approach your future the same way you have approached your past. Thank you and best of luck, Class of 2024.

Dave Winter delivered this speech to the Class of 2024 at its baccalaureate on May 28 at Covenant Presbyterian Church.