‘Create Meaning Around You’: Commencement for the Class of 2025

Commencement for the Colorado Academy Class of 2025 was a joyous occasion, as could have been predicted for what is regarded as one of the kindest, most compassionate groups of Seniors—105 in total—ever to walk together across the Welborn Lawn.

 

In his opening remarks to the audience of family, friends, and other guests on a sunny June 5, the Chair of CA’s Board of Trustees, Kevin Reidy, noted, “The Class of 2025 has been a true gift to our school and our community. You’ve had each other’s backs, and your respect and affection for one another is what sets you apart.”

 

Sharing some of his reflections as the parent of a member of this graduating class, Reidy said, “When we give our child their name, it can be seen as the title of a book or the first brushstroke on a blank canvas. At the beginning, the pages are blank, the images unformed. It is up to each child to write their own chapters, to create their own portrait, shaped by the relationships they build, the challenges they face, the celebrations they cherish, and the setbacks they overcome. As our children grow, education becomes one of the most vital forces in shaping who they are.”

 

Reidy concluded, “Today, we honor the students, performers, artists, athletes, debaters, and leaders the members of this class have become. I have no doubt this will not be the last time you hear many of these names. On behalf of the Board of Trustees, I want to thank the parents, guardians, faculty, and staff for a job incredibly well done. And to the Class of 2025, we extend our gratitude, our admiration, our pride, and our excitement for all that lies ahead. The pen is in your hands now, full of ink, with blank pages waiting to be filled. We cannot wait to read the next chapters of your journey.”

Reidy welcomed Head of School Dr. Mike Davis on the podium next to deliver his own remarks. Dr. Davis echoed the Board Chair’s words, stating, “It is impressive what you’ve been able to do and how you’ve thrown yourself into this community with such passion and intellectual curiosity. I want to echo Kevin’s message of gratitude for the families here, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, and sisters who have not only supported these graduates, but also Colorado Academy over the years. And to our extraordinary faculty and staff, your dedication, creativity, and care have shaped not only minds but hearts. You are the architects of futures, and your impact reaches far beyond the classroom walls.”

 

Davis then took listeners back to the year of his own high school graduation, 1987, when the song “It’s the End of the World as We Know It,” by the alternative rock band R.E.M., dominated radio airwaves as the group left their unique mark on popular culture.

“I remember cranking this song at our senior prom,” recounted Davis. “It’s chaotic, breathless, and joyful, a fitting anthem for the moment you’re in right now. In the lyrics of this song, endings and beginnings aren’t separate—they’re tangled together. That’s how life works. High school ends and something new begins. And it might feel like the end of the world, but you’re fine. And more than that, you’re ready.”

 

Davis went on to observe, “What set R.E.M. apart wasn’t Peter Buck’s jangly guitars or Michael Stipe’s cryptic lyrics, Mike Mills’s bass and harmonies, or drummer Bill Berry’s amazing leadership. It was their vision. Buck once said, ‘We can all make music individually, but we’re smart enough to know that the music we make together is far better.’ From day one, R.E.M. knew who they were, and they refused to compromise. Everyone they crossed paths with said the same thing: These guys were gracious, thoughtful, generous. They knew the names of managers of clubs, the bartenders, the doormen, and got to know the fans whose couches they crashed on.”

“In an industry built on egos, they built something better, which is community, and they took risks,” Davis continued. “What does this all mean for you? It means have a vision. Don’t wait for permission to be who you are. It means be kind. You can be ambitious without being ruthless. It means be generous. Credit and praise are best shared, not withheld. It means stay weird. Stay real. Think for yourself. It means you can grow up without giving up. And when the world changes, and it will, remember the chorus. ‘It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.’”

 

CA’s own rockstars, the Upper School Chanteurs, then assembled on stage to perform the song “Little Voice,” by Sara Bareilles. As Choral Music Director Dr. Kevin Padworski conducted, the group sang:

It’s just a little voice
And if you’re listening
Sometimes a little voice
Can say the biggest things
It’s just my little voice that I’ve been missing

As the Chanteurs returned to their seats, all settled in to listen to words of wisdom delivered by Upper School Principal Max Delgado, who reminded the audience that he had served as Class Dean for this group of students when they were just Ninth Graders. 

“Over these years, you’ve likely perceived two separate but vital components of your education. With the help of your teachers, you’ve been exposed to the world of ideas, introduced to disciplines that might inform your life’s work, and have been taught how to think and analyze. But it hasn’t just been all about the books. All the adults at the Upper School have tried to teach you how to be good human beings, how to find a purpose beyond yourself so you can join the world beyond CA.”

 

“But,” said Delgado, “the academic program and the social emotional program are not independent of
each other. They’ve always been the same.”

He went on to explain, “Your days of getting grades are numbered. One of the rubrics that has defined your understanding of progress will dissolve. There will be very few things in your adulthood that will ever feel as neat, as binary, or as finished as what a grade suggests. The world may feel daunting when you don’t know how to keep score anymore. What your teachers want you to know is that sometime between your mid-20s and early 30s, you along with your classmates will begin debating how to keep score now that grades are gone.”

“And just when you think you’ve settled that debate, just when you decide which accomplishments matter most, those very metrics will dissolve as well. You’ll then be presented with the only measure that really matters when you reflect on how you spend your precious time in these precious days. Are you comfortable in your own skin?”

Delgado next related a piece of advice his grandmother gave him when he was a high school senior himself. “‘Don't protect your heart,’ she told me. Our entire academic program has been oriented around this idea: that initial beliefs, hypotheses and theories are likely incomplete, incorrect, until rigorously tested and shored up with knowledge that preceded you. This intellectual humility, this willingness to assume you could be wrong before reflexively assuming that you’re right, isn’t just about academic curiosity. It’s a design for living.”

“My grandmother believed that we should be wary of people who think they know the score, who think the world would be perfect if everything ran the way it was prescribed by them, who need to convince you that they’re right. These people are so afraid of being wrong that they protect their heart with certitude. Being comfortable in your own skin, my grandmother believed, means not avoiding heartbreak, or risk, or loss, or limiting life for fear of looking silly, wrong, or dumb. The ones who are comfortable in their own skin are the ones who’d rather get knocked out of the ring than never step into it, who’d rather get rejected than never try, who fail but know that if you don’t play you cant win, and who when they lost—healed.”

Delgado concluded, “So, Class of 2025, don’t protect your heart. Someone once told me the heart is an instrument. Some people are so worried about banging it up or playing the wrong note that they go their whole lives without taking it out of the case. So go play your instrument. Join the rest of the band. You’re part of the show now, and we are excited to welcome you.”

 

The Seniors seated on stage applauded as one of their own next went to the podium: elected Class Speaker Meg Stanitski. “Each one of us made our way into the Class of 2025 at different points,” she began. “But despite all our different starting blocks, we now cross the finish line together. With different paths and experiences, different families and interests, we became one class. Somewhere in between group projects and class meetings, retreats and early mornings, Interims and student sections cheers, we built a class together. That is worth celebrating, because as we graduate today we do so not as individuals but as one group of Mustangs together.”

 

Stanitski repeated a piece of advice her father, Upper School English teacher Mike Stanitski, once shared with her: “Things have meaning because we give them meaning.”

“I feel deeply about this place, not because of any built-in importance CA had for us when we all arrived in our different ways. I feel deeply because of how we’ve poured ourselves into these moments, these relationships, and these experiences we’ve had since then. We’ve given things meaning for years, often without realizing it at the time. When we showed up to each other’s games and performances, when we went to each other’s Portfolio shows and club meetings, when we stayed up too late working on an assignment, or when we stayed behind in class or at practice to help someone else. When we invested our time in one another, we were making those things mean something.”

 

“Our years together have meaning because each of us, and all of us, made all those individual moments matter. So as we leave, remember what you gave meaning and how you did it. Remember the people you showed up for. Remember the classes and events that you dedicated your time to. Remember the teams and clubs and groups that you put your heart into. Remember that your actions, your intentional effort, is why things mattered here. And that meaning, that significance, doesn’t leave us when we walk across this stage. It becomes part of who we are.”

Stanitski came to a close, urging her classmates, “And just as we take CA with us, I encourage you to keep giving things meaning. Not because you have to or because you’ll be graded on it, but because the meaning that we create is what makes life rich. A school is just a school until we find purpose in it. A city is just a dot on a map until we build a life around us. A relationship is just a connection until we genuinely show up for someone else. Don’t wait for life to hand you meaning. Create it around you.”

Dr. Davis then stood again to issue CA-red diplomas to the graduates in the Class of 2025, reading individual tributes composed with the help of faculty, coaches, and staff for each one. Guests cheered as every name was announced, and after the final Senior, Christoff Zimmerman, was recognized, the audience stood and applauded while the graduates recessed down the center aisle and toward the next chapter of their lives.

Class of 2025 Commencement Candids

Commencement Eve Reception

Processional/Recessional

Ceremony

Diploma Photos

Stage Portraits

Class of 2025 Formal Photo