Let me start with an admission: I joined IGS in year 7, but I attended my first swimming carnival in year 10. It wasn’t that I couldn’t swim—although my butterfly stroke looked eerily similar to drowning—but rather the sheer awkwardness of being watched by so many people and the fear of being the last one struggling in the water when everyone else was tired of cheering. Back then, I was a professional at holding myself back: skipping events, sticking to my comfort zone, and never doing more than was asked of me. But today, I stand before you as someone who finally realised that life is a lot better when you stop sleepwalking.
My turning point came in Year 10. I couldn’t hide behind a COVID mask, and my best friend was leaving the School. I felt like I was being left behind, that I had no control over who I was, and so I put myself up for things that scared me. I decided, consciously yet nervously, to extend myself. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating. I discovered many things about myself: perhaps at another School, I wouldn’t have been so easily welcomed. But here, at this School, I was given room to grow into myself without judgement (and grow a moustache as well). Slowly but surely, I started becoming the person I wanted to be, and at this school I only ever saw people who wanted me to succeed.
In Year 11, I went further. I went for a leadership position, something I couldn’t have imagined even a year earlier. And by Year 12, I took my largest step: I went for Head Boy. I’m proud to say that I’m so much more than I was back then, not because I changed who I am, but because I pushed myself out of my comfort zone.
A.A. Milne, the author of Winnie the Pooh once wrote, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” This School has been that “something” for me. A place where I learned to take risks, make mistakes, and grow into someone who doesn’t avoid the deep end. That last bit was quite literal. This year’s swimming carnival I made myself swim in every event, even the teacher-student relay at the end of the day after I was completely exhausted. I remember rising from the water with the goggles squeezing at my skull and my breath rasping, I saw my economics teacher still splashing behind, and from the side I heard cheering. That moment felt like the culmination of so much — not just training in the pool, but in all of my time in high School.
Of course, I didn’t do this alone. To my parents, thank you for believing in me when I didn’t yet believe in myself—and also putting up with a room that looked like it was shelled and what I can only describe as borderline sloth on most weekends. To my teachers, who pushed me to excel, especially Frau Galfetti-Neve and Mr. White—thank you for seeing potential in me and always going that extra second, third, and fourth mile for just one student.
To my friends, who have made these years unforgettable—Mali, this is your mention. You asked. You threatened. Here it is. But actually, thank you for being the best group of mates anyone could ask for. You kept me grounded, you definitely kept me humble, and I will miss every one of you.
As I stand here today, my message to everyone is simple: don’t sleepwalk through your story. Life isn’t a rehearsal. Put your hand up, take a leap, and don’t be afraid to flop—because even the flops will teach you something valuable.
You don’t have to compromise who you are to achieve something. I didn’t. I’m still awkward sometimes, most times. I still stutter and rush and get flustered. But I’m here, and I’m proud. Never sell yourself short, and reach for every pipe-dream — you are so much more capable than you let yourself to believe.
Thank you all, students, teachers, and everyone who goes unnoticed, for making this School a place where people like me can grow into better versions of ourselves. Saying goodbye isn’t easy, it’s an unpleasant word, but I suppose that’s how you know it’s been time well spent. Thank you.