Graham Blanks' Address To Year 13
When you came here I didn’t need glasses.
It has been interesting being a teacher and a parent. You get to see two views of the same thing. I have been in a meeting and someone says, the parents really like this new thing we are doing and I think quietly, not all of them. There have been moments of real comedy when other teachers forget that I am a parent and start complaining about those ignorant lazy useless immature cheeky worst group ever blah blah blah. I have so much wanted to say – hey, that’s my son and his friends you are talking about. So with my teacher hat on, to all you other parents, thank you for trusting the school with your sons and thank you for supporting the school in all its endeavours.
Now, young men. Go back seven years or five years. The day you walked up that drive or got off the bus or got out of the car in the yard, you became a new kid. You were a new kid for about three weeks. Until the swimming sports. After the swimming sports you weren’t new kids anymore. It is strange, but the ritual of being locked inside a wire cage for 6 hours with 700 other young males and getting wet, tired, sunburned and hoarse seems to be community building. Maybe it has something to do with the older boys drawing body parts on you with vivids. What’s on my back? It says “Go Benildus.” Honest it does.
Anyway, after the swimming sports you are all FDMC boys. You make part of the yard your own. You are one of ours and you will be one of ours forever. One day you will do something outstanding, and become famous and in the staffroom, some teacher will say, “He’s an old boy you know?” We will be stalking you forever. Because we are proud of you. We put a lot of effort into you. Some of you needed more effort than others. So when you become a Rhodes scholar or Prime Minister or a billionnaire or get mentioned in the sports pages of the Daily News, we will be proud of you.
When you see your teachers in town or in the street or wherever, come and say hello. Teachers love that. Something else that we really like is to see some of our best students come back as teachers. That is a real vote of confidence.
By the way, I have to tell the truth here - when I meet you in the street or wherever, it is quite likely that I won’t remember your name, straight away, but I’ll pretend I do. Your name will come back to me eventually though. At my age there are a lot of old boys.
To those of you whom I have worked with, I have enjoyed it. Mostly I have had a lot of fun. I hope you learned something, even if it was by accident. It is a two way street. I learned from you too. To my Year 12 Accounting class 2012, remember your forklift safety rules. It has been a privilege. In a few years you might find yourself thinking, I wonder what is happening there now? Well, in room 4 there will be boys putting up with the same stories, the same old jokes and the same prejudice about water bottles in class and there will still be handball in the yard. And some time in the far future some of you will realise that maths is very cool.
You will meet each other again but you won’t ever all be in the same room again after this week. So what makes you special? You are my son’s year group, that should do it. No. What is your point of difference? What binds you? I have sat and listened to masses, liturgies and reflections at this school for a long time and what stands out for me now is the story of Father Francis Douglas. He is not remote from us in time and place. He lived in Wellington, in Opunake for a short time and New Plymouth. He is like a figure just out of sight, just around the corner, in the next room perhaps. I think if I could turn my head fast enough I could catch a glimpse of him. He was a kiwi kid. He started at a school just as you did. He left school as you are about to. He was 14 when he left school. Life was different then. He loved sport. He played rugby, cricket, tennis.
He wasn’t here as a schoolboy but I can imagine him here, playing basketball on Friday evenings, playing football on the field. I see him in the queue at the tuckshop. I can see him at athletic sports, organising his vertical form relay team. I can hear him reading the daily notices, or practicing a speech for the O’Shea shield. I can imagine him and his friends claiming a part of the yard and defending it just as you did. Would he have joined in the big food fight in the yard? You bet. Was he a top student? I don’t really know, but I’ll bet he was staring at the clock at five past three just like you.
He didn’t really know what he wanted to do. Nor do many of you. Eventually he decided. It was a difficult path he chose. He struggled with his training. So will many of you. He didn’t give up. Then he was sent to a place which was not where he wanted to be. He went. He worked to make the best of it. It was still difficult. Then he was tested, tested severely in a way that no one should be tested. He responded with courage and integrity. He stayed true to what he believed. He has made a difference to all of you.
It is a great story and you all know it well. It has taken me a long time to really appreciate it. It is the story of a real man – and I would be pleased if more people in New Plymouth and New Zealand knew of him. But as I say, you know the story and you share that story with all the FDMC community. It can be part of your bond. It is your point of difference. So as you go from here, take his story as an example, share it, keep it warm. It is special to you.
Go well, work hard, remember to laugh, have many children, good luck.
It has been interesting being a teacher and a parent. You get to see two views of the same thing. I have been in a meeting and someone says, the parents really like this new thing we are doing and I think quietly, not all of them. There have been moments of real comedy when other teachers forget that I am a parent and start complaining about those ignorant lazy useless immature cheeky worst group ever blah blah blah. I have so much wanted to say – hey, that’s my son and his friends you are talking about. So with my teacher hat on, to all you other parents, thank you for trusting the school with your sons and thank you for supporting the school in all its endeavours.
Now, young men. Go back seven years or five years. The day you walked up that drive or got off the bus or got out of the car in the yard, you became a new kid. You were a new kid for about three weeks. Until the swimming sports. After the swimming sports you weren’t new kids anymore. It is strange, but the ritual of being locked inside a wire cage for 6 hours with 700 other young males and getting wet, tired, sunburned and hoarse seems to be community building. Maybe it has something to do with the older boys drawing body parts on you with vivids. What’s on my back? It says “Go Benildus.” Honest it does.
Anyway, after the swimming sports you are all FDMC boys. You make part of the yard your own. You are one of ours and you will be one of ours forever. One day you will do something outstanding, and become famous and in the staffroom, some teacher will say, “He’s an old boy you know?” We will be stalking you forever. Because we are proud of you. We put a lot of effort into you. Some of you needed more effort than others. So when you become a Rhodes scholar or Prime Minister or a billionnaire or get mentioned in the sports pages of the Daily News, we will be proud of you.
When you see your teachers in town or in the street or wherever, come and say hello. Teachers love that. Something else that we really like is to see some of our best students come back as teachers. That is a real vote of confidence.
By the way, I have to tell the truth here - when I meet you in the street or wherever, it is quite likely that I won’t remember your name, straight away, but I’ll pretend I do. Your name will come back to me eventually though. At my age there are a lot of old boys.
To those of you whom I have worked with, I have enjoyed it. Mostly I have had a lot of fun. I hope you learned something, even if it was by accident. It is a two way street. I learned from you too. To my Year 12 Accounting class 2012, remember your forklift safety rules. It has been a privilege. In a few years you might find yourself thinking, I wonder what is happening there now? Well, in room 4 there will be boys putting up with the same stories, the same old jokes and the same prejudice about water bottles in class and there will still be handball in the yard. And some time in the far future some of you will realise that maths is very cool.
You will meet each other again but you won’t ever all be in the same room again after this week. So what makes you special? You are my son’s year group, that should do it. No. What is your point of difference? What binds you? I have sat and listened to masses, liturgies and reflections at this school for a long time and what stands out for me now is the story of Father Francis Douglas. He is not remote from us in time and place. He lived in Wellington, in Opunake for a short time and New Plymouth. He is like a figure just out of sight, just around the corner, in the next room perhaps. I think if I could turn my head fast enough I could catch a glimpse of him. He was a kiwi kid. He started at a school just as you did. He left school as you are about to. He was 14 when he left school. Life was different then. He loved sport. He played rugby, cricket, tennis.
He wasn’t here as a schoolboy but I can imagine him here, playing basketball on Friday evenings, playing football on the field. I see him in the queue at the tuckshop. I can see him at athletic sports, organising his vertical form relay team. I can hear him reading the daily notices, or practicing a speech for the O’Shea shield. I can imagine him and his friends claiming a part of the yard and defending it just as you did. Would he have joined in the big food fight in the yard? You bet. Was he a top student? I don’t really know, but I’ll bet he was staring at the clock at five past three just like you.
He didn’t really know what he wanted to do. Nor do many of you. Eventually he decided. It was a difficult path he chose. He struggled with his training. So will many of you. He didn’t give up. Then he was sent to a place which was not where he wanted to be. He went. He worked to make the best of it. It was still difficult. Then he was tested, tested severely in a way that no one should be tested. He responded with courage and integrity. He stayed true to what he believed. He has made a difference to all of you.
It is a great story and you all know it well. It has taken me a long time to really appreciate it. It is the story of a real man – and I would be pleased if more people in New Plymouth and New Zealand knew of him. But as I say, you know the story and you share that story with all the FDMC community. It can be part of your bond. It is your point of difference. So as you go from here, take his story as an example, share it, keep it warm. It is special to you.
Go well, work hard, remember to laugh, have many children, good luck.