The Abingdonian 2019

62 The Abingdonian Leavers’ Day Thank you, Mr Venables, for your speech and fascinating insights into life as a High Sheriff. My congratulations also to all prize winners today. It’s on occasions like these that one comes to appreciate the breadth of achievements and talent at the school, and these prizes are testament to all your hard work throughout the year, so congratulations. Now, governors, teaching staff, parents and guardians, if you’ll afford me the pleasure, I’d like to take this opportunity to address my peers and reflect on our departing year group. Gents, we made it. Let’s hope the ‘real world’ is ready for the cohort of Old Abingdonians coming its way. As ex-members of the Upper Sixth, we now find ourselves at a significant milestone in our lives, about to embark upon new challenges in environments where brandishing a prefect’s tie grants authority over no-one and inquiring as to the softness of the cookies may be something of a faux pas. For me, this realisation is quite surreal. Undoubtedly, this leaving process - the glory of leavers’ day prizegiving, and the Griffen Ball - is tinged in a certain nostalgia, as we leave behind the environment and, hopefully to a limited extent, the people that have defined our lives for the last five or seven years for most. Leaving school, though, above all, is exciting. Who knows what the future will hold? The great thrill about this moment in our lives is that nobody really knows. Sure, university perhaps, then a job, which may fit the majority of us. But what about 10, 20 years’ time? Pondering this question, it struck me that we’re actually all in possession of the answers. I turned, of course, to the yearbook. So, I ought to wish the best of luck to Connor Brown in the Olympics, congratulate Charlie Cardno on his Nobel Prize, and wish Colm Lambert all the best for his teaching career at Abingdon - I’m sure you’ll make a great addition to the Common Room, Colm. Who knows whether these predictions will really ring true? What I can say with certainty, though, is that wherever our paths lead, each and every one of us will carry with him fond memories and a firm personal foundation from their time here at Abingdon. And the more we come to realise the significance of this community in our development as people, the more I think you’ll agree that we as a collective owe a few big thank yous for the education we’ve been so privileged to receive here. The first of these should be addressed to the group sat mostly behind me. I think I was 14 when I realised a surprising truth about teachers - they, like us, may have places they’d rather be on those rainy Monday mornings in December near the end of Michaelmas Term. And they, like us, are human. They have the capacity to make mistakes, and may be tempted to cut the odd corner here or there. And I think from this realisation you begin to appreciate the daily commitment of our teachers and the profound investment they make in our lives, not only as brilliant repositories of knowledge, but also as role models and as people to turn to with any query, be it academic or not. Author C.S. Lewis said that “the task of the modern educator is not to cut down jungles but to irrigate deserts.” Certainly, a great teacher can inspire. But to inspire you must first be inspired yourself, and so to the inspired and inspirational gathering of teachers here today I’d like to say, on behalf of my year group, thank you, for not cutting down our jungles and for irrigating our deserts. The second thank you should be addressed to the unsung heroes of our education. As a parent, the investment you make in your son when choosing a school such as Abingdon is not to be taken lightly, and this investment certainly shouldn’t go without due thanks. So, I think it’s important that my peers and I recognise the sacrifices you as parents have made so that we could enjoy the education that we have, not only in financial terms, but also all those little things - ferrying to and from Saturday fixtures, for example.