Summary Of A Tribute Speech For High School Student
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Today I graduated. It was, for the most part, a pleasant experience. It started out pretty good, I should say. Everyone was dressed nice, we listened to the teachers talk about us, and some parents and students cried what I’m sure were forced tears of joy. None of the teachers really had anything interesting to say; it was all just more of the same. “Thank you”, “you taught me more than I taught you”, “thank you”, “you were all the brightest student I’ve ever taught”, and then some more “thank you’s,” if you could believe it. Pretty standard stuff. However, the robe was pretty hot; it was practically an oven in there. It was as if they had made them so they could end the ceremony with a nice roast-student dinner. Although that’s just a nitpick;…show more content… Gordy spent ninety percent of the ceremony mentally preparing for the last ten percent; his valedictorian speech. The “main event”, as he called it. He’d been working a pretty unhealthy amount of time on this speech. Seriously, he’d been up all night for the past two weeks perfecting it. It only took him about a day to make it perfect as a diamond. However, this is Gordy we’re talking about. He doesn’t stop at diamond perfect. He has to make it.. Gordy perfect. Every sentence has to be sanded down to perfection. Every word has to be swapped out twice. As the thesaurus’ binding began to wear out, he dumbed it down so us mere mortals could also understand this elegant work of art. This was is his Magnum Opus. No, the pinnacle of human evolution. Socrates, Aristotle, Shakespeare, and Descartes would all be topped in this epic eight and a half minute…show more content… I would have wished him luck, but something told me he’s not the type to believe in luck. His speech was exactly eight and a half minutes long, so I had exactly that long until I started mine. I had no way to fix this situation; my speech was doomed. I was going to look like a mumbling mess of semi-coherent words and sweat. Practically shivering, I looked around for distractions (as I usually do under pressure). I scanned the crowd. To the left, I saw Rowdy; this is his first time in Reardan, strangely enough. I shifted my view to the right, seeing my mother watching Gordy’s speech intently. Somehow, I doubt she understood what he was saying, but it’s nice to see her interested.
And before I knew it, I was up. I stood, wondering what I was going to do. I had a crappy speech, and zero preparation; the last time I read the thing was when I wrote it. Some joke about a hotdog, to start.. then a bunch of cheesy thank-you’s, “it was a blast”, closing joke about tangerines, and end scene. It was bad. No, it was hopeless. This was the manifestation of vomit in paper