Dear Class of ‘24,
I am in disbelief that the year is over and you are moving on to the next chapter of your lives. I know you are ready; I’ve watched you grow immensely over the course of the last year and it is time for you to move on. I tell you what, though, it is not easy for me to say goodbye to you.
Class of ‘24, you swooped in ready to conquer the college application process. You started contacting me in late spring and during the summer for help, which is well before any group ever has, so we began our work together a little early. To say you are ambitious is an understatement. During what is the most stressful time of your lives and also the most stressful part of the school year for me, I suffered the biggest loss of my life. My dad lost his battle to Alzheimer’s Disease on Sept. 18 during the heart of college application season. It happened very quickly, and I had very little time to prepare. Instead of shying away from my tears and pain, you carried me through it. You showed up huge for me with cards, flowers, origami, chocolate, hugs and love. You let me right into your hearts. So, you, Class of ‘24, will forever carry a very special place in mine. You have changed me. Each year, I fall in love with the group of kids I’m working with which is both a blessing and a curse. But Class of ‘24, I will miss you differently because, whether you know it or not, you took care of me, and you allowed me sincere and true happiness during a personally very sad time.
It is my honor as an educator to have a front seat to witness your accomplishments, to love you through rejections and disappointments, and then to watch you move on confidently ready to embrace what is ahead for you. After all, you’ve spent 18 years dreaming of what’s next for yourselves. I get to be a tiny part of it, and that is truly a gift. It has been amazing to witness your ambition, watch you embrace your dreams, and I know it will be wonderful to then keep up with you and what you do next.
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Class of ‘24, you are loving and kind; compassionate and empathetic; brilliant and ambitious, and you allowed me into your lives freely and without reservation. You are a gift to me, and I truly believe you were hand-selected by the powers that be to be the group here for me during my deepest sorrow. While I know many of you experienced the awkwardness of my tears during that time and throughout the year, you did not shy away. Sophi Beardslee, Sage Allison, Owen Price, Charlie Cox, Morgan Eye, Chamila Munoz, Jude Masoni, Griffin Kentrup, Luka Alvarez-Scarborough, Ohad Klein, Lou Schavrda, Madi Briggs, Hannah Herrera, Larsen Stewart, Hannah Van Houten, Lanie Sepehri, Sophie Leung-Lieu, Maggie Coulbourne, Ana Mejia, Azul Cepero and so many more of you, thank you! You allowed me to tell countless stories and share memories, and you participated and shared some of your own. So from the deepest part of my heart and soul, thank you. Your compassion saved me and allowed me to show up and do my job for you each day. And please know that I love each of you so much. It was important to me to acknowledge how you lifted me up.
And to my amazing nephews, Chris and Charlie Ferina. We started at McCallum together. Can you believe that? I can’t put to words how much I will miss seeing you both every day. Both of you are such good people ready to take on the world. This year was a tough one for us, but you did just what Pops taught us to do—pulled up your boot straps and forged forward. There are no words for me to tell you how proud I am of both of you. You are authentic and kind young men. I love you so very much. Arkansas and Texas State are very lucky to have you.
So, Class of ‘24, I simply could not directly address you as a class without addressing your beautiful hearts. Now, enough about me, let’s celebrate!
Let’s reflect on this past year and all that you’ve accomplished collectively. Did you know you earned 40 million dollars in scholarships and grants and that number keeps growing?! Last I checked, you’d been accepted to 309 universities?! Unbelievable. You are truly an incredibly talented group of people.
In sports, we won district or advanced to at least the first round of the playoffs in every single sport. We have the amazing Gabi Alfarache, our Division 1 fencer, who is going on to compete at University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill. Sarah Hauck has a scholarship to play soccer at Tufts University, Josie Blackwell is going to run cross country and track at the University of Portland, Adrian Shiguango Holtz will run at Roanoke College, David Herring will run cross country at Texas State University, Ohad Klein is headed to Trinity University to play soccer, Daisy Wiseman will be fencing at Wellesley College and Sam Stevens is off to Xavier University to play baseball. This is amazing! Alice Scott earned National Journalist of the Year (that means the BEST in the country?!). Our very own Ellie Loudermilk scored the lead role in a professional musical downtown, The Prom, at the Zachary Scott Theatre Center. And boy, she was PHENOMENAL! I got to witness her brilliance. We have a Dell Scholar this year, Fatima Trejo Rios, and she will attend the University of Texas—Go Horns!
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Putting accomplishments and awards aside, you all show that character counts. Your class is full of resilience and grit: you spent the first year of your high school life at home learning virtually and then many more months living behind masks. How weird and isolating was that time of our lives? Yet, you rose above and continued to live and learn and grow. I hope you’ll carry that with you, that life is full of triumphs and struggles. People will let you down. Life will let you down. You will let yourselves down, and sometimes you will fail. But, you will learn from each of these moments and grow. You will come out of failure, heartache, and heartbreak better and stronger and more able to take on the next challenge, to do better, and to achieve. You will accomplish your goals and fulfill your dreams. You will travel and fall in love and experience life’s greatest pleasures in work, college and life.
Your friendships are special, some of them lifelong, and the memories you’ve created will certainly last forever. Each of you leaves your own unique mark at McCallum. I will never forget the strong, unforgettable college essays written by John Dietz/Alice Scott/Meredith Grotevant/Nico Sanchez/Helen Martin/Ingrid Smith to name a few, my daily hugs from Terron Hall and Nate Barnes, my mornings with Adele Boerner and Killian Oppel, the incessant tennis ball bouncing in my room and around the halls from Matthew Naumann, lunch chats with my regular crew Ohad Klein, Luka Alvarez-Scarborough, Jay Schlett, Griffin Kentrup and Cash Thompson, solving Wordle and the rest of the New York Times games with Nathan Nagy and Owen Price, deep talks with Francesca Dietz, Anabel Tellez, Edie Birkholz and Lucy Kuhn, and let’s not forget Marshall Clifton’s breakout moves at prom—THE BEST. If I didn’t mention your name, it’s not because I don’t have amazing memories to hold on to, it is simply because I was asked to keep the speech around five minutes. Ha!
McCallum seniors, you are so much fun! You have so much personality and so much pizazz.
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But let’s not give you too much of a big head. You win the award in all of my 22 years in education for the worst case of senioritis I’ve ever experienced professionally with any group. So parents, let me give you the perfect example— there’s this weird nook in a wall in my classroom where seniors typically set up a little spot for themselves about late April or early May. I knew we were in big trouble when this group set up a nap nook in my room in … January. Then, after Spring Break, we decided to have a “coming to Jesus” meeting with you because we were worried about your stamina to the finish line. Rather than listening intently, nodding and agreeing to finish strong, you cheered for yourselves. I mean … All that being said, I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I could list memories and moments that stand out of every single one of you. You all are so special.
What I sincerely hope you take into the world is both the ambition and compassion you’ve shown me. You embody the people I truly hope, as an educator, we send out into the world. Whatever your path is—a four-year university, two-year community college, trade school, gap year, straight to work, military, IT IS ALL so important. I hope I always made you feel that way—that your path, whatever it is, has deep meaning. I often tell you (and I hope you’ll always remember) when you come to me afraid and wanting to sift through decisions to take a chance on yourself, a leap of faith and know that you have what it takes to succeed.
We have talked about thinking beyond today or tomorrow and try to think about 20-30 years down the road and picture what you want for yourself. You are worth the investment, so, take chances—safe ones, of course, but take them. That is how you grow.
The high school chapter in your life is soon closed. I know that for some of you, that is exciting and that you can’t wait, and for others of you, it is scary and daunting. Or, it might be a mix of both. The best part is that the next chapter is bigger and better, and it is YOURS to create.
Class of 2024, I hope you know how proud I am of each and every one of you AND how much I love you. I am so hopeful that YOU will do wonderful things in this world. I can’t wait to bear witness. Keep in touch. You know where to find me. Room 130 will always be open to you. And if room 130 is not where you want to catch up, I love a great conversation over a cup of coffee.
Love you all and miss you already,
Mrs. Nix
Nix delivered this speech to the Class of 2024 at its baccalaureate on May 28 at Covenant Presbyterian Church.
