valedictorian

My hands had finally stopped shaking and I hoped the moisture under my arms didn’t seep through my gown, when they announced me to give my valedictorian speech. I swallowed down my nerves and released them in a deep breath as I stared into the crows and told them the story of how I got here. Story defined as ‘an account of imaginary people and events told for entertainment’ not story defined as a ‘an account of past events in someone’s life or in the evolution of something’.

After introducing myself and addressing the dignitaries present on the stage, I began my speech with the story that got me admitted to this institution. The story of my childhood as the son of a poverty-stricken farmer, raised without a mother and alongside six other children. How despite my circumstances I arose every morning tending to my chores, and still managed to make it to school on time. How my hard work was admired by so many teachers at my school they encouraged me to attend college. And how when I was admitted into this institution my father told me not to major in agriculture like I originally planned, he encouraged me to pick something that I wanted to do, not what I thought he expected me to do.

None of this is true, I was raised by both my mother and father, in the same house. My father is an accountant, with an office downtown and my mother a nurse that works the night shift. I had my own room in our five bedroom house and only one sister. I knew nothing of poverty, hard times, or self-sufficiency. The hardest thing I ever had to do was make up a heartbreaking but believable sob story to get me into college. I had heard sob stories were what admissions offices wanted in addition to the stellar GPA, being team captain of this team and co-chair of this organization. But I was average, I did enough work to not fail, and I put in enough effort to keep a slot on the baseball team. I was comfortable not putting in any additional effort. But it was getting to be embarrassing to be the only one of my friends without any scholarship offers, or plans to travel. Combine that with the repeated threats my parents made to enroll me in the military I grew desperate. So a sob story about how my family pays the private school I attended in fresh produce, to a little known college in eastern Ohio, was how I was able to stop being the butt of everyone’s joke and avoid seeing combat.

But my lie only continued to grow more once I realized I could use it to my advantage. For this part of my speech I must thank my professors and classmates for their patience, generosity, patience and empathy.Each time procrastination caused a deadline to arrive too quickly, or I had indulged a little too much, the night before I would approach my professor always questioning their knowledge of my circumstance. What sympathy I was shown when sophomore year I informed my English professor of having to return home to assist my father through an unforeseen flood. My economics professor junior year allowed me to take every test using my notes when I informed him that I was tutoring my brothers and sisters after they were no longer able to attend the private school due to my family’s inability to produce enough crops for themselves and the school. By the time I got to senior year I was approached by my professors with their curated curriculum. I instilled no jealousy for this special treatment from my classmates only pity, so much of it I was invited to spend holidays with a different family every year, having never returned home since the day I left.

I could not thank or even acknowledge my family outside of acknowledging their lack in attendance. When I was informed that I may be the valedictorian of my class I panicked, rejecting the offers to have my family flown out, and hotel paid for. So the day I was informed of the honor I would be receiving I met the news with a sullen excitement. What were the odds I would be getting such great news the same day I had received such bad news. I am valedictorian and my father is a double amputee, after suffering an injury involving our tractor back home. The dean, my professors and my classmates all knew how much I would have loved to have my father and siblings present with me this day, but they are supporting me back home, awaiting my return.

Now the audience is in on my lie, and as I look out at them I pray that this speech does not go viral. As I said I have not returned home since the day I packed my car while my father was at work and my mother rested from her shift. I have not called them, and even went as far as discarding my phone and replacing it with a pay by minute disposable one. My family thinks I am God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. I thought after I graduated I could go back home, rub it in their face that I was not lazy, that I was more than capable of all of the things they said I couldn’t do. But then I would have to tell them about all it took me to get here, the admissions letter, the stories to my professors and classmates. I would be a disgrace. So I will end this speech, take my seat, pose for pictures with all those who helped me get here, pray that I do not become a social media sensation. I will mail my parents a picture of me once I determine what I am going to do next. The world is my oyster I just have to find the right story to get me there.