Hi fellow teachers, guests, and dear students with whom I spent three years with, I am Emily Tang. Happy Graduation!

As I stand here today, I can’t help but feel a strange sense of deja vu.

Flashback to the first day of our class, I remember the moment when Ford first introduced our classes’ names at the same position as I do now. I was in the backseat staring at this stage and daydreaming about my possibly fantastic high school life, never realizing that in the next three years, I would still need to meet this stage countless times.

And after all these years, looking at this stage now...

Well, let’s be honest: HFI doesn’t have a grand stadium or a sprawling amphitheater. All we have is this. This modest, slightly overworked platform. I’ve heard people complain about the acoustics and lighting, and I’ve seen people literally build extension stages just to make the space work.

But there is something beautiful about these limitations: since we only had this one stage, we had to make it everything.

Like the Graduation Drama Heathers a couple of days ago, we have broken our limits on these floorboards. It’s where MUSE members fulfilled their dreams of becoming a band; where Fusion members danced to the rhythm they loved, where we survived GE and Chinese tests together. At this stage, people sang their Voices out, athletes received their awards, students were recognized for their academic hard work, and the Student Council promised us things that occasionally, actually happened.

Except for the Student Assemblies we skip tacitly, we have watched this stage transform into various forms, and today, it’s the launchpad for our futures. Maybe growing up on a stage this small taught us something important: every movement matters. In theater, there is a term called “blocking.” It is the precise movement of actors on a stage. On a stage this small, blocking is a contact sport. If you move two meters too far right or left, the whole scene may feel imbalanced. If two meters forward, you might no longer be on the stage.

Similarly, we have lived our lives within these kinds of tight margins throughout high school.

We lived within the limits of Turnitin deadlines, GPA scales, and our own endurance during college application season. As we looked at the “Big World” outside - the dream universities across the ocean, the colorful lifestyle in the future - these limits may feel like cages initially, and we felt we were too small for our ambitions. Instead of choosing between Stanford or Harvard, checking whether we had finished our AP Classroom assignments on time seemed more realistic for us.

And graduation will not make this feeling disappear.  

The good thing is, our stage gets bigger.

In a few months, many of us may stand in massive lecture halls, perform before thousands of people, or intern in global metropolises, finally tasting the freedom of the “Big World.”

The bad thing is, our blocking becomes more complicated.

More than GPA and standardized tests, we might be measured by career ladders, the number of papers published. Entering the stage of society, we will also face more rigid expectations regarding our social status, relationships, and even gender. The larger our world becomes, the more pressure we feel struggling between who we want to be and who society expects us to be.

In year 10 Pre-AP, we studied The Odyssey  together. I know some of us back then were just trying to memorize all plots with our friend GPT, and figured out how to flex our BS muscle during literary analysis.  But standing here now, on the edge of graduation, the idea of the hero’s journey suddenly feels more real.

Writer David Brooks describes this stage of life as the “Odyssey Years” — the uncertain decade between adolescence and adulthood. If you’ve been on social media lately, you’ve probably seen the term “Odyssey Years” everywhere. Some people joke it’s just another fancy way for our generation to romanticize being lost - a sophisticated way to say “I have no idea what I’m doing with my life.” But maybe this clever generalization is exactly why it goes viral and so many people relate to it.

It’s a time when we are no longer too nervous to open the PowerSchool, but not yet have the blueprint of where we are going.

Now, as we step forward into our Odyssey Years, there will be fewer instructions telling us where to go to earn an A in life, and the era will tempt us to forget our original blocking. In an age shaped by algorithms and endless comparison, it becomes easy to forget the person we originally wanted to become. Social media constantly tells us what success should look like, what we should pursue, and even what kind of life is worth admiring.

But if HFI has taught us anything, it’s about how to hold our ground and create infinite possibilities within limitations.

We learn to do “blocking” not only for gaining control of our lives, but also for collaborating with peers to make the entire scene more harmonious. Receiving an international education, at its best, is not a license to claim the brightest spotlight for ourselves. It is a process to stay thoughtful in a world that rewards efficiency, to explore what we truly love in a world increasingly shaped by templates, and to recognize that every position we take reshapes the people around us.

The world will teach us how to optimize ourselves, and I hope we never become too efficient to remain curious, compassionate, or brave.

After years of wandering, Odysseus did not return only for glory, but to take responsibility and restore his homeland. Our own quests will also guide us toward our Ithaca. But Ithaca is not simply a destination. It is our choice of where - and how - we decide to build our ideals.

Class of 2026, today may be the last time for us to enjoy this stage, so I want to thank the people who helped us stand here today.

Thank you to parents and families who support us, guide us, and love us unconditionally.

Thank you to teachers who introduced us to various fields, encouraging us to think, ask, and question beyond academics.

Thank you to the principals and all the staff who made this school possible. Your pursuits of education and humanistic perspective have made us who we are.

Lastly, shout out to all my classmates. Thank you for the laughter on the way to 台湾卤肉饭, thank you for the shared stress before deadlines, thank you for the late-night talk in istudy square, thank you for all the good memories and unforgettable years we created together.

The stage will be ours, and so will the years ahead.

They will be more complex and far less predictable, but I hope we all remember what this small stage has taught us.

Congratulations, class of 2026!