Farewell Address by Sarah Harris
Throughout high school, I have followed the same routine. I start every day by looking at the time, realizing I'm running late, and suddenly trying to do twenty minutes' worth of preparation in about three. It never worked. In the morning, I'm grabbing my stuff, convincing myself I definitely have everything I need, and heading for the door.
And every morning, right as I'm trying to make my great escape, while brewing his coffee or folding laundry, my dad says the same things: "Be kind. Be honest. Do your best. And everything will be okay," I typically reply “Yeah ok… love you too,” slam the door, and drive to school at an almost reasonable speed.
I didn't think much about those words. They were just part of the “routine”—they still are. Just something I heard every morning before school. In the preschool school carpool line, at the playground on Southport, or the dirt parking lot in middle school.
But looking back now, I've realized something. No matter how old I was or what was going on in my life, those words never changed. Year after year and morning after morning, I was given the same three simple reminders:
Be kind.
Be honest.
And do your best.
Now, I realize those words have been teaching me something far bigger than how to succeed in school. They taught me how to live.
The first lesson is to be kind.
When we think about high school, we aren’t going to remember every quiz score or every homework assignment. Every historic date we memorized or formula we made songs about in Algebra 2. We'll remember the people. We'll remember the friend who sat next to us and held our hand when we felt alone. The classmate who was late with you because you both had to sprint downstairs after realizing your backpack was still in the cafeteria. The teacher who gave you “just one more night” to finish the homework that was due yesterday, which you hadn’t even started. The high five from your teammate after finishing a brutal speed workout. We'll remember the moments when someone chose kindness.
In a world that often only celebrates achievement, kindness seems small. A waste of time. But the strongest people I know and those who have earned my utmost respect are the ones who make others feel seen and supported.
The class of 2026 is full of talented people. Future doctors, engineers, hair stylists, artists, entrepreneurs, and leaders. And I hope that no matter where we all end up, we never become so focused on success that we forget to care for the people around us. The people who made us who we are.
The second lesson is to be honest.
I thought honesty just meant not lying. Pretty straightforward, I guess. But it is more than that. Honesty is admitting when you don't know something. It's raising your hand and asking the questions everyone else is afraid to ask. It's accepting that you got the problem wrong, the answer wrong, or the decision wrong—and learning from it instead of pretending otherwise.
Some of the most important moments of high school weren't the times we had everything under control. They were the times we didn't. The moments when we DID ask for help or change our minds. The moments when we realized we still had something to learn. Maybe you told someone how you really felt about them. Maybe it didn’t go exactly how you expected it to. Maybe you told your older sister, “Hey, it WAS me who scratched your car.” Maybe you told your teacher you actually have no idea what is going on in class and haven’t for the past month. But in all of the instances, you were honest. And honesty matters because it is where growth begins. You can't learn from a mistake you refuse to admit and you can't get help for a problem you pretend doesn't exist. Honesty requires humility and sometimes even courage.
The truth is that none of us got here alone. At some point, every person sitting in this graduating class needed help from a teacher, a coach, a parent, or a sibling. Maybe even five of them. I've been lucky enough to grow up with siblings who have always set the bar high. But it wasn’t because they expected me to be like them; it was just the example they led by. I grew up watching their work ethic, kindness, and the way they treated others. Lilley, Graham, and Emerson are some of my greatest role models, and I'm constantly amazed by the people they've become. I hope one day I get to be that for my two younger siblings who have yet to enter high school. I am also grateful for the most special role model of all, my mom. I truly would not be here without her. Thank you for all of your lunch notes, smiles, questionable advice and always being my #1 cheerleader. Whether we admit it or not, every one of us is standing on the shoulders of people who believed in us.
The final lesson is to do your best.
Of the three, this one is the most important. Because doing your best is something every single person is capable of doing. It doesn't mean never failing. It doesn't mean comparing yourself to the person sitting next to you. It means giving all of your effort, your energy, your heart, and yourself to whatever you're doing. Now, believe me, doing your best won’t look the same every day. Sometimes doing your best is staying up late to finish a project or a speech… It's showing up to practice even though you're exhausted, and none of your friends are gonna be there. Sometimes, your best is as simple as getting out of bed.
What I've learned is that success isn't built in one giant “ta-da” moment. It's built out of hundreds and hundreds of ordinary moments that happen when the world isn’t watching. It happens in the choice to keep trying and to put in the work even when there is no guarantee it will pay off. Every graduate sitting here today has done that in their own way. That's why we're here. Because success isn't about being the “best” person in the room or having every step of your future planned out. It's about the kind of person you choose to be.
When you enter a new classroom or workspace, choose to be kind. When you face a difficult decision, choose to be honest. When you encounter an impossible challenge, choose to do your best. And if you do those things, I know my dad was right: everything will be okay. Your success will take care of itself.
Congratulations, Class of 2026.
