Before I start, I would like to thank all of those who are attending today’s graduation ceremony. I would also like to give a special thank you to my friends and family; you’ve put up with me when no one else would. I would also like to thank my teachers; you supported me and encouraged me to push myself. If it were not for your support, I would not be where I am today – namely, in front of this podium. Finally, I would like to thank the dining hall staff, past and present. You supported me in my times of need…and you’ve fed me in my times of hunger. Truly, what more could I ask for? And by the end of my speech, I hope you will all know what I thank Franklin Academy for.

Like so many others, I came to Franklin four years ago afraid. Afraid that I would not fit in. Afraid that I would not be accepted. Afraid that my teachers would turn against me. Afraid that history would repeat itself. That I would go to bed each night crying like I did so many years ago. I was afraid of failure. See, I didn’t care that much about getting into the best classes. Or getting the highest grades. My priority was surviving. So in order to do that, I isolated myself. I was alone, and that’s exactly how I wanted it. After all, how could I be hurt if I avoided everything there was to hurt me?

I was the kid at Franklin who would sit alone at the dinner table each night. The one that would sit in his room playing video games by himself. I barely even spoke to people. It even got to the point where my teachers were worried about me. In fact, it never really occurred to me just how quiet I was. About three quarters through my first year I remember there was a party. I forget what it was specifically for, but I do remember starting a conversation with one of the seniors. He gave me the strangest look, and I couldn’t figure out why! Was there something on my face? Did I spontaneously grow a second head? No. He was dumbfounded by the fact that I spoke. Apparently, for the seven or so months that I was on campus, this particular student never even heard me speak. It’s difficult to ignore something like that, especially when you know the person telling you is being honest. It brought me to the revelation that I was supremely, and perhaps even irrevocably, socially awkward.

As it turned out, there were others in my grade who were much like I was. They helped me through a rough patch in my life, and I owe them a lot. You know them as the senior class of 2011. Their peers know them as FLI. I know them as my friends…my family. After four years, I finally understand what my teachers were rambling on about when they referred to us as the “Franklin Family.” I have my friends to thank for some of the happiest years of my life. Because of them, I have grown into who I am now. They have been with me throughout the good times and the bad. And, of course, they have been a constant source of entertainment for me. To say that they are a unique group of individuals is an understatement. Yes, it lent itself to a certain amount of insanity, but that is what makes Franklin so great. The world needs more creativity, and my peers have no shortage of that.

But that is only because it has been fostered by Franklin, or more specifically, Franklin’s staff. Up until ninth grade, my working definition for the word “teacher” was: “An android programmed specifically to be as miserable and idiotic as possible.” I did not like teachers very much. And why should I have? I saw them report children just for cursing, making stupid comments, or other equally minor mistakes. The result? It was often suspension or expulsion. And for what? To ensure that Johnny has an unnatural fear of authority for the rest of his life?

I’ve seen it happen to otherwise good kids. They never hurt anybody. They never threatened anybody. They simply made a mistake. I was lucky enough that it never happened to me, but I was still constantly afraid. The staff at Franklin are different, however. They recognize mistakes for what they are – mistakes. But who and what they are extend far beyond that. They aren’t androids. They’re people – good people – who care about their students on a personal level. I have even come to consider many of them my friends. There is not a day that I do not look back to my time of public schooling and feel thankful of where I have been for the past four years.

So what is Franklin? Is it some miraculous place that unlocks your full potential? A place where, through some complex and obscure process, teachers will “cure” you of your problems? No, of course not. To some, it is a second chance. To others, it is a chance that they never received! A chance for a successful life! A chance to begin again. But it is ultimately up to you to take that chance: to better yourself; it is a choice that only you can make. And of course not everything will go the way that you planned or wanted it to. Franklin is not perfect, and why should it be? So many schools made attempts at perfection, and where did that leave them? They turned into cold, rigid, unforgiving husks of what they were originally meant to be. Franklin, with all of its imperfection, has given me a chance. It has given us a chance. Take that chance; make that choice!

I am David Whitley, and on behalf of the senior class of 2011, I would like to thank you all – underclassmen, classmates, teachers, and parents – for making the best years of our lives possible!