In the chaotic hours before this year’s high school graduation this past Tuesday, students trickled up to the school doors in ones and twos, some already wearing their gowns, blue for boys, white for girls, some clutching them to their chests – each senior looking slightly bedazzled by the event about to transpire, as if none quite believed this day would ever come.
Inside, near the cafeteria, many of the graduates gathered in an impromptu ceremony of their own, putting on or adjusting their gowns, finishing up the final details before the procession was to start out the door, heading to that final ceremony from which there would be no return.
As the class got ready, their chatter rose in volume, filled with last minute earth-shaking questions they needed answered from someone, anyone, often addressed at no one in particular: Is my hat on straight? Which side does the tassel go on? Why can’t I wear a blue hat and a white gown? Look what it says inside my hat! Where did you park the car? Does anyone have an extra set of sunglasses – I left mine home?
Indeed, this graduating class would be the first in five years to hold its ceremonies out of doors, although during the two hours leading up to the march outside, school officials still had their fingers crossed.
“One year we went outside and 15 minutes later it started to rain,” said Schools Superintendent Constantino Scerbo. “It came out of nowhere complete with thunder and lightning.”
“That was 1997, my first year as principal of the high school,” recalled principal Pat Impreveduto. “We got out there, it started to rain, we all ran back inside.”
For this reason, school officials had to set up two complete sets of chairs, two complete graduating platforms, one in the middle of the high school football field, the other in the high school gym.
Yet on Tuesday, only an extreme pessimist could think of rain, with skies so blue they nearly matched the gowns of the graduating boys.
The gathering in halls also set the stage for last minute performances by the various characters, the cool dudes with their dark shades, the macho boys with their headbands and earrings, and the young women in every sort of gown, some with skirts so short they seemed all legs. Joe Franks, one of the more macho boys, argued his case for wearing shorts and sneakers under his gown.
“The girls get to wear short skirts and stay cool; I can’t see why we boys can’t do the same thing,” he told a teacher.
Laughing, the teacher answered, “Because your legs are sticking out the bottom of your gown.” Each side was hardly serious with less than two hours until the distinction between student and teacher ceased.
“The girls legs’ stick out, too,” Franks said, missing a remark by another passing male student who claimed the girls’ legs were worth looking at, while Franks’ weren’t.
The chatter and the joking, however, hid a deeper tension few of them wanted to speak of outright; the tension that comes from knowing that in a short time, each would cease to be part of Secaucus High School, and the class that had spent four and sometimes many more years together would scatter, like chaff to the wind, each going to a different job, a different school, a different future.
Winding down
As the hours wore down towards the moment the ceremony would begin, some students eased out the door to stand in the front of the school, some looked for parents to arrive, and others just stared into space. Many said they would miss Secaucus High School.
“I’m going to miss my teachers and my friends,” said Jessica Henkel, who will be attending Felician College in Rutherford in the Fall.
Alexander Cupo, who had not made up his mind which school he will attend, said he intended to become an artist. He said the senior year had gone too fast, and he claimed the funniest moment of the year was when he posed for his yearbook picture.
“I can make some strange faces when I want,” he said, and promptly proved his point.
Mark Dippel already has a full time job at Public Service Gas & Electric, but said he intends to take college criminal justice courses at night.
“I’m going to be a cop in Jersey City, just like my father,” he said, adding that his least favorite thing over his four years in high school was getting up early. “I liked the teachers and students,” he said.
Nicole Young agreed the last year went fast, and said she had originally not intended to go on the class trip to Myrtle Beach, but said she found it brought her closer to the class.
“I had a good time,” she said.
Jessica Ward said she already regretted not talking to more people while she was still in high school, and Francis Carter said he would miss everyone.
Tim Lazicki echoed others in saying he would not miss trying to get to school by the 8 a.m. bell, and Ramsey Ramavtar said he would miss everyone, too.
“I really enjoyed myself here,” Ramavtar said. He said that he’d be going to the Lodi campus of Felician College in the fall.
“This all went too quick,” said Ray Maday. “It really was important to take advantage of every moment.”
Then, one by one, the students reentered the school, lined up according to the program, and got ready to make the long march out to the football field, for that moment that would make the graduating class of 2001 part of Secaucus history.
The ceremonies begin
In addressing the graduating class during the official ceremonies, Scerbo recalled another graduation earlier this year, noting the diplomas the school awarded to World War II veterans who had left school to fight in the war. He said he hoped none of the students of the 2001 graduating class had to make such difficult choices in their lives.
The Class of 2001, he said, had distinguished itself in many ways, taking advantage of opportunities the school had offered, while also showing itself to be a class with heart. Scerbo recalled the drives for blood, food and toys, and the fundraisers to help the needy. This class even raised money to help a poor school in Tennessee. He also recalled the contacts this class had with the town’s senior citizen population, from a senior citizen prom to seniors surfing the internet.
In his salutatory address, Brian Coar spoke about himself as if in a fairytale, about how he came to school for the first time from “under the protective wings” of his parents, and then for 13 years learned the basics, not just scholastics, but in human interaction, learning the meaning of friendship as well as his ABCs. He recalled the sharp transition from the elementary school to middle school where he had to deal with a whole new set of details, such as having a locker and changing classes.
“Have more than three teachers a day was a challenge,” he admitted.
But he also recalled the moments of wonder in high school such as the white water rafting trip and a visit to Washington D.C.
“Yet high school passed in a blur,” he said, taking the assembled audience through a brief tour of his four years, the successes and the challenges, and how he had learned from his mistakes. “Then came the senior year, the year it all came together and things started to make sense… everyone began to understood what was to take place, everyone became closer for fear of separation. Instead of spending the weekend out of the town, every night was a time for friends to get together and have a little fun. Senior year was a time of lasts: our last bonfire, our last football game, our last competition, and the list goes on.”
But he said it was also a year of firsts, including the realization that he was part of a class and that many of the things accomplished during the year was a result of a combined effort.
As Class President Malessa Phemsint offered much wisdom. She said that hard work – although it does not seem to pay off right away – does later on; that truth, while scary, is also the best way, and that everything does happen for a reason, even if people never find out what that reason is. She said Secaucus elementary school taught her the basics and in some ways, she will always think of herself as “a Huber kid.” She said that she learned numerous things about the great gifts she had received in Secaucus school, and how she couldn’t do everything by herself, and that once in a while a very special teacher will come into a student’s life and make all the difference. She learned, too, that quality friendship means more than quantity, and that people can’t always be the best at everything, but that each person can exceed at something. She also learned the need to get involved, and that this is the stuff memories are made of.
Board President Paul Amico had very few words to tell the class, noting that the class has spoken for itself. “I’m sure nobody came to hear me speak,” he said. “I’ve seen may classes graduate, but I’ve not seen any like the class of 2001. This has been a class of model students.”
Singing the praises of a friend
In a ceremony thick with praise for others, Arjyo Chakravarti in his valedictory address outpaced his classmates as he had all year in his studies. He rose to the occasion not to praise himself, but to praise a former classmate who had fallen ill last year. He spoke of someone who did not make the graduating class, who did not live up to the expectations that sportswriters had set for him, and yet someone who seemed to be as much a part of the spirit of this class as any of those who made it to the podium.
Chakravarti talked about Danny Chavez, a promising star whom many newspapers had predicted would break all the school’s sports records. But Chavez became ill during the year and is now living down South.
“But dreams can be taken away in the blink of an eye,” Chakravarti told the assembly, his voice booming over the public address system, faces of students, parents, teachers and principals solemn as he spoke. In singing his friend’s praises, Chakravarti said the real tragedy would have been if his friend had given up, but success is often measured by how a person handles defeat.
Chakrayarti said that other people knew how great Chavez was, including one Ridgefield runner who won metals in an athletic competition last year and then subsequently walked up to Chavez and handed them to him.
Chakravarti said it is important to seize every day.
“Every person we meet shapes our lives,” he said, and though Chakravarti didn’t say it in so many words, he was referring to Chavez with his praise.