Graduation Ceremony
The 167th Commencement Exercises in the rich history of Norwich Free Academy celebrated the Class of 2025, Wednesday, June 11. The class of more than 500 was honored with the richness of the Academy's time-honored traditions, including an address from Joseph Wayland, a member of the NFA Class of 1975 celebrating its 50th anniversary.
To view a .pdf of the event program, or watch the livestream on YouTube, click on the links on the right.
Ivy Orator
Speakers at graduation are determined by participation in the Cadden-Williams Prize Speaking Contest
Shaunty Mae Vidad, Ivy Orator
A wise man, Dr. Seuss, once said, “Sometimes you’ll never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” And standing here today, I now understand what he meant. So what if I asked you to name your favorite high school memory? What would you say? The big game? The award you won? The friends you made? Maybe. What if your favorite memory was that random Wednesday where nothing happened, yet somehow, everything did?
I’ve realized something simple but powerful: It’s not always the milestones that stay with us; it’s those moments we didn’t think mattered.
Like the time my friend’s phone went off during a final exam. Or that time when a classroom stunk so badly that the entire class began to cough, cover their faces, and pretend to die. Or when a friend impulsively grabbed the mic at a school assembly and said something crazy. None of those moments will ever show up on a transcript, but they’re the ones I’ll remember. It’s moments like these—the silly, even ridiculous ones—that stitch the bigger memories together. When you think of it, isn’t every big picture made up of little tiny brushstrokes? If so, then those little moments combined with the bigger moments like birthdays, getting into college, graduation, are part of a beautiful mosaic we are creating.
Today, as we all sit in our graduation robes, waiting to receive our diplomas, it’s difficult to realize that the phrase we’ve been saying for the last four years, “See you tomorrow,” has come to an end. And that’s the thing about small moments: you only realize how big they are when they’re gone.
It just seems like we’re so caught up in thinking about what comes next that we forget to notice the present. Maybe that’s why we don’t always acknowledge the little things like the familiar taste of the school's famous crispy chicken sandwich. This seems so small, but they become the stories we’ll never forget.
So, as we move forward toward new places, new people, new chapters, let’s all remember one thing: to not take these moments for granted. Because one day, we'll realize that they were everything.
Instead let’s cherish them as the riches they are—our little brush strokes that build onto the big picture—that is called our life.
Class Speaker
Speakers at graduation are determined by participation in the Cadden-Williams Prize Speaking Contest
Sadia Qsaib, Class Speaker
Good afternoon everyone. We’re finally here, at the end of our high school journey. Now that we’re here, reflecting on our last moments, I have a question for you all. Isn’t it funny how much we grow and don’t even notice?
It’s a little crazy to think about how far we’ve come since ninth grade. Do you remember who you were as a freshman?
I keep a memory box underneath my bed. It’s filled with all of the memories I have on hand that I can keep safe for a while. It’s got everything in there. My childhood bracelet from a vacation, the necklace which bears the name given to me by my tough Moroccan grandmother who held me, but I never got to meet, and other big things, like the paper I got after I was informed I was going to be speaking to you today.
I’ve noticed that many of the little trinkets are from more recent years. It’s because these four years have been full of growth, with countless memories to show for it. One consistency, and one key factor in my being able to grow as much as I have, is the collection of every single play bill I’ve saved from each show I’ve been in during my time in playshop.
When I first came to NFA, I was timid and closed off. That’s how I had been for the entirety of middle school. Acting was the only thing I was sure about, so I decided to join playshop and see where I went with it while trying to find out who I really wanted to be. After earning a spot in the first show of the year, I was instantly welcomed with open arms by the rest of the cast. I cherished the kindness given to me.
I looked up to the upperclassmen as role models and leaders, wishing to be that for someone else one day. I’m sure we have all had at least one thing we have done while at NFA that has impacted our life and allowed us to grow for the better, to find ourselves. I remember the realization I had during both my junior and senior year that people in playshop had begun looking up to me, and it made me reflect.
After my freshman year, I was a much stronger actress, which not only affected my acting but also my personality. Acting allowed me to be unapologetically me, and it has helped me form new friendships with some of the closest friends I’ve ever had. I found out how much I valued my friends from this butterfly effect of growth I had been undergoing and how much it was impacting my life. I was so much stronger than who I had once been.
Of course, that journey was filled with failures of my own, things that I had to accept and overcome – things that made me evermore resilient. I had become someone others looked up to, who some know as a safe place they can go to when they need advice, or simply for someone to listen. In playshop, every time we close off a show, we always let the seniors say a final speech, a goodbye to the rest of the people who they’ve acted with for years.
So, I extend my wishes from them unto you all. I wish that you always see the beauty in every moment you experience. Those are often the ones we miss the most. I wish that life treats you kindly and that you are driven forward by every breath you take. Although it is imperative we must fail and learn from our failures to grow, it will not be easy. Nonetheless, I’m proud of us. We’ve come a long way, and I know we can go so much further. Congratulations!
Class of 1975
Every year at commencement a representative of NFA's 50th Reunion Class delivers a speech on behalf of their class.
Joseph Wayland, Class of 1975
Hello Class of 2025!
I am deeply honored to be here today to talk to you as a representative of the Class of 1975. Wow — 50 years! That will seem like a very long time to you. When I was sitting in your seats, the class of 1925, which had graduated 50 years before our class, seemed like aliens from another world.
And maybe you are looking at me as an alien who you hope will disappear from the stage quickly so you can get on with the celebration. I certainly understand that. But I ask your patience for just a few minutes as I suggest that our world was not as different from yours as you might think.
There are many obvious differences of course. One difference is right here on this field. I was on the NFA track team and back in the 1970s we ran on what was basically a dirt track that wasn’t even the right distance, it was about 20 yards short, and you had to run past the original starting line to complete the 400, Visiting teams were very suspicious and thought it gave us an unfair advantage — maybe it did — we were state champions when I was a senior. Go Wildcats!
And of course, we didn’t have computers or laptops, or IPads or iPhones. You wrote your papers on laptops, and we wrote ours on manual typewriters. We talked on land line telephones, rather than texting or tweeting, there was no instant messaging, no way to follow someone, so we could go days or longer without being in contact with friends or family. Can any of you imagine heading off somewhere and your parents can’t track you or demand constant updates — but we could, we just left the house and came back eventually, sometimes much later than we should have.
But putting the differences aside, like you we came to school mostly to learn, but also to enjoy our friends, to pursue our athletic or musical or artistic talents, to escape into our own teen age world. We studied the same subjects that you did. We worried like you did about how to balance all the demands on our time — homework, sports, music lessons, drivers ed, taking care of siblings, part time jobs, hanging out with friends. We pushed the limits set by parents and teachers and every other authority figure. We worried about our looks, about making friends, being accepted.
And as we got older, we worried about the future. You may have some of the same worries about the future that we had, whether you can do the work at college, will you be any good at the trade you are going to learn, will you survive basic training in the military, will whatever career you choose be successful.
As you think about all that, what I can tell you from the perspective of 50 years is that it will work out in ways that you can’t imagine yet. For a very few of you, your path through life will be mostly a straight line, and it will proceed in ways that you might predict now. But for almost all of you, as it was for us, the Class of 1975, it will mostly be a winding road, with turns (and sometimes U-turns) that will take you in unexpected directions. And that’s ok.
What you think you want to do now will change as your world expands, as you learn more, do more, see more. You will change jobs, maybe move to jobs that don’t exist now. You’ll move around the country, meet new people, have unforeseen challenges and opportunities that you can’t yet imagine.
And the good news is that you were well prepared by NFA to navigate the winding road. What you learned in the classroom, on the athletic fields and in your music or theater performances will be a strong foundation for your futures. It isn’t so much the facts and figures, but more importantly what your teachers and coaches taught you how to think about the world, how to approach a problem, how to be disciplined about whatever it is you’re doing, how to tell the difference between what is real and what is merely the manipulation of truth by AI or some digital trickery. And that will be a much bigger challenge for your generation than it was for mine. Fake images, fake voices, fake reality — my most fervent plea to you is to learn how to know the difference between fact and fake.
Looking back now, I know that as I went about life, working my way through high school and college as a painter, gas station attendant, pool builder, submarine shipyard worker, bartender and substitute teacher, and as I ultimately embarked on my professional career, I owe much to NFA for providing the foundation that steered me through the ups and downs, the twists and turns of that journey.
In a few years, maybe after college. or after you’ve been working in construction, or as a nurse, or in the Electric Boat shipyard, you will realize that what matters the most is not necessarily where you go, but how you navigate the winding road. Do you do it with honesty, and character; do you lend a hand to others, do you do your best at whatever it is that you do? And I know that many of you will look back with appreciation at how well NFA prepared you to do exactly that.
When I was at NFA the Ivy Orator was chosen through a speech contest in which students recited a famous speech from history. I chose John F. Kennedy’s inaugural address, and I thought it would be fitting that I leave you with a few words from that speech
Kennedy said that the torch has passed to a new generation of Americans, unwilling to permit the slow undoing of the human rights to which this nation has always been committed. And he said that the energy, the faith, and the devotion brought to this endeavor will light our country and the glow from that fire can truly light the world.
And so this afternoon, I pass the torch from the Class of 1975 to the Class of 2025. I know that you are ready to light our country and the world with your energy, faith and devotion to the common good.
