Great Scot December 2019 Great Scot 158_December_ONLINE | Page 20

FAREWELL CLASS 2019
‘THE BEST YEARS
OF MY YOUNG LIFE’
This is an edited version of the School Captain’s
reflections at Presentation Night
Scotch College means many things
to many people. To me, it is not really
a physical place I think of. The first
associations will always be to the people I
met at this School. The School represents
the best years of my young life and the
closest friendships I may hope to forge.
With this in mind, tonight I would like
to offer a small sampling of stories of the
individuals who have crossed my path.
Life is unpredictable: these were the
final words for the school year my Science
teacher offered to me a little while ago. He
went on to add that in physics, one can
never be exactly certain of where a particle
is. Protons, electrons and all manner of
other things – including you and me – can,
though the chances are extremely slim,
pop in and out of existence at the drop of
a hat. His conclusion that life should be
uncertain, therefore, seems almost to be
written into the fabric of reality itself. He
then told us one of the more remarkable
stories I have heard in some time.
In the late 1960s an Englishman named
Tim Staffell founded a band named Smile
with some of his school friends. Now
they enjoyed a little bit of success here
and there, but nothing special. One day,
having missed the train on the way into
the city, he asked a nearby stranger for the
timetable. They eventually got talking,
with both expressing their passion for
music and art. A week or so later, Tim was
offered a gig to work on Thomas the Tank
Engine as a model maker.
Now he couldn’t manage the demands
of both music creation and making kids’
toys, so he passed on the lead role in the
band to the acquaintance he had met
the other day. That man turned out to
be Freddie Mercury. The band became
Queen. The rest is history. Somewhere at
some point in time, Mr Staffell must have
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Great Scot Issue 158 – December 2019
pinched himself a and asked ‘is this the
real life?’
Now way back in February, I visited
Cowes for some of the Year 7 camps.
Having the chance to meet them and
hear their thoughts on school was very
interesting. There was, however, one boy
who couldn’t quite grasp how I’d come to
be in Year 12 for a second time. For the rest
of the camp, he had this permanent look
of confusion on his face until a moment of
epiphany when it all seemed to click.
Shortly after I got back, one of the Year
7 tutors paid me a visit and gravely asked
me to have a chat with a misbehaving
student. In walks Mr Confused, of all
people. He sits down. I ask what he had
done; I fear the worst. It turns out he had
got a little bored and prank-called some
people – shocking stuff, indeed.
Well, we got to talking and
conversation turned to what he wanted
to do when he was older. He thought for
a moment, made his decision – it’s either
a TikTok celebrity or a lawyer. Times
certainly have changed where two such
completely different vocations like those
are both viable options. I had a bit of a
laugh. He took this a little more personally
than I had intended, and replied ‘Well you
failed Year 12 last year, so what would you
know?’ I didn’t have much to say in reply.
If anything, this experiment certainly
confirmed that the stereotype of Scotch
boys going into commerce/business is alive
and well. It’s fair enough that there is such
a focus this year on what we will do with
the next one. Vocation, jobs, career, these
are terms that are thrown around a lot. If
you are still as unsure as I am what you
want to do with yourself, I find the best
place to start is here: what would I do if
money were no object? If you can do that,
your ship will right its course.
Exams are approaching, and in a
month’s time, give or take, you will hear
the words ‘pens down’ and with that
cursory remark, your schooling will be
done. Just like that. No fireworks, no
cinematic explosions. And let me tell you,
having been in that position before and
awaited the end of Year 12 and the freedom
it would bring, not much changes. The
world you left before entering the exam
hall is still the same when you return to it.
They say all good things come to an
end. One day, in the near future, you will
all wake up, for some of you sometime
around mid-afternoon, and sit up.
Out of all the great things you will
do on that day, there is a couple of things
which you won’t. You will not button up
another crispy white shirt from Dobson’s.
You will not tie that gorgeous tie of
cardinal, gold and blue. And you will
not come back to 1 Morrison Street as a
student – ever again.
In the precious days that remain, I ask
you only to cherish them. We are often
told to live each moment as if it’s our last.
As far as this school is concerned, it is.
I am humbled by the opportunity to
be a part of your graduation. For most of
my experience as School Captain, speaking
in front of so many people has been an
occasion that I both cherished and dreaded.
With this being my final address to you
all in Memorial Hall, I cannot help but
be overcome by immense sadness. This
building testifies to the memories of boys
who came before us. However, it is also an
image, frozen in time, of your own selves.
A part of you has woven itself through the
red brick and wood.
Thank you all for a wonderful year,
and on behalf of all the boys, thank you to
everyone who has made our experience all
the more memorable.