Graduation 2018

Thank you Ms. Locke. To Mr. Hunt, Mr. Ball, Ms. Bonenfant, Mr. Ruiz, Ms. Donahue, the faculty and staff, family, friends, and the class of 2018: welcome and thank you for coming to the reading of my speech.

At the same time that I feel like I’ve been waiting too long for this day, I also feel like I just got here. As most people do when there’s a big shift in their life, I found myself thinking about the past four years. I realized, through Milton, I was able to make friendships that will last, something I didn’t really have before high school. We all have those friends with whom we can talk to in only certain settings: at school, at work, on the beach, in Nigeria. While most people have these friends in addition to their best buds, those were the only friends I had growing up. My parents were always very protective, worrying about what could happen to me or my siblings when they weren’t with us. I was never really allowed to leave the house outside of academic reasons, so that made it hard to maintain friendships.

When I was in the fourth grade, my “very best friend,” Alexandria, invited the whole class to the Coco Keys for her 10th birthday party. I love to read, and at that point in my life, I had read enough books to know about the Florida Keys, which I was sure was the same as the Coco Keys. I had never been to a friend’s birthday party before, but the whole class was planning on going. So I got home and the first thing I did was to beg my parents to please let me go to Florida on Saturday for Alexandria’s birthday party. They said no. At the time, I didn’t really understand why not. Obviously, the whole family could come, hanging out on a nice island for a birthday party, I figured it’d be a fun little thing. Plus, Alexandria was telling me that Florida was only 20 minutes away. Now I know that the Coco Keys is actually an indoor water park in Danvers, Massachusetts. Come Monday, I was the only person at school not talking about all the fun things that happened on Saturday. To this day, I have no idea what happened, but something definitely did because the friend groups were completely different. Justin was coloring with Sarah, even though she wouldn’t share her fruit roll-up with him just two weeks ago, and Aryana stuck to Alexandria’s side like a growth and Alexandria, my very best friend, let her. The kids I usually associated with at school were spending their time with kids I’d never talked to. I spent my recesses jumping rope with the lunch ladies. Fortunately, the middle school I planned on going to was fifth through eight grade, so I left the school that year and never talked to any of those people again.

In middle school, I tried to fit myself within various friend groups, so if a social catastrophe like the Coco Keys ever happened again, I wouldn’t be left out. However. This was hard because middle school was the time for “get-togethers” and “sleepovers” and “hanging out at the mall during the weekends.” No. My weekends were spent reading and cleaning with my parents. So every Monday was a different story and experience that I missed out on. No matter how close I thought I was getting to people, I didn’t have any shared experiences with them outside of school. It’s hard to maintain your friendships when you keep missing out. Fortunately, I had been accepted into Milton, so I left that school and never talked to any of those people again.

It was a hard decision for my parents, but I came to Milton as a boarder. There were many back-and-forths about whether or not Milton was the right school for me, if I’d be able to commute from home, or if we should move closer to the area. We ended up moving, but I was able to spend my first three years here as a boarder. Coming to Milton was too good of an opportunity for my parents to pass up and we lived too far for me to be dropped off and picked up everyday. I was so fine with this. I thought, being a boarder, I would just instantly be friends with the people I lived with, but apparently, you need to talk to them first to make that happen. Of course I’ve had friends, but there wasn’t usually any depth to my friendships. I assumed there would be a connection you get when you’re living with people, just from seeing them for most of your day. I thought it’d be hard not to feel some sort of kinship with the people who play the same music as you in the shower, who stay up late with you, and who hate being touched on their necks, just like you. But it wasn’t as easy as I thought. Most freshmen are new to Milton, and even more want to make new friends. They set out to do so within those first few days of freshmen activities, but not me. I stayed by myself, read some books, and took naps in my room.

One random long weekend in the dorm towards the beginning of the year, the only long weekend I’ve ever spent on campus, there were only three freshmen still in the dorm. Me, a girl from Hong Kong, and a girl from New York. I had a slinky, and we were stretching it out as far as it could go, making it walk down the stairs, normal slinky fun time. I went into the bathroom, for a very short amount of time, and when I came back out, my beautiful slinky had been contorted. It went from a spiral that stretched the entirety of a hallway to a 3-by-3 inch sphere. I made a big deal out of it, but I didn’t really care, so then we made vines–short videos–of us trying to fix the slinky and other things. We spent the entire weekend together, going to the weekend activities, making vines, and breaking toys. It was after this weekend that I started to come out of my shell and actively hang out with the people in my dorm.

Once they initiated conversations with me, and showed other people our vines, I was able to open up more to the other students around me. It was through these people that I was able to take more risks and force others to be friends with me. I know some Milton students will leave here thinking “Milton did nothing for me” but for me, you know, outside of the whole school and learning thing, Milton also gave me some of my best friends. You all know who your best friends are,  maybe you don’t remember how you became friends, but you know where. For many of us, that place is Milton. There’s a deeper level to friendship, and it has changed my life. I hope everyone here today has experienced or will experience having friends like mine.

Today, I’m graduating knowing that, even though I’m leaving yet another school, I will keep the friends I made here with me through whatever I end up doing and wherever I end up going. I’m not going to lie and say I’ll keep in touch with everyone, especially considering my track record, or that I’ll miss or cherish every memory and experience I’ve had here. But I will miss the place that gave me some of my first real friends. I’m done now, thank you.

Thank You Coach Stone for the introduction. And to Mr. Hunt, Ms. Donahue, Mr. Bland, Mr. Ball, Ms. Bonenfant, and Mr. Ruiz, thank you, and it’s a pleasure to be up here with you this morning. But I first just want to start off by thanking my classmates for allowing me this wonderful moment; I also want to thank my teachers for getting me to this point; and, lastly, I want to thank my parents and grandparents for their endless support and love.

In times of discomfort and uncertainty, we, as humans, often just want to stop, and cling to familiarity and comfort. And that’s fine; it’s healthy. However, I’d argue that it is more beneficial for us to overcome our fears, defeat our obstacles, and go. For where there is uncertainty, there may also well be opportunity. Today’s event is an example of that. We, the class of 2018, are graduating, marking an event that begins a new, exciting stage in our lives. But, it is also a bit intimidating, as we are leaving Milton and all the comfort that it represents. So while we may want to stop and focus on the past, I urge us to do the opposite: to silence the doubt and concentrate on the future. For there are many amazing moments that lie ahead after Milton, especially for a graduating class that has learned so much and that is so prepared for the real world, So go, go. But there have been times in my life when I learned the value of silencing my doubts, evading obstacle, and carrying on. And I hope to convince you to do the same.

Let’s go back a few years to my first day of fifth grade when my own fears almost caused me to stop and miss out on something really special. Picture this, I was a troubled tween, sporting a button-down shirt, a new pair of pleated Dockers, and a velcro wallet full of absolutely nothing. And I was plump. And when I say plump, I literally mean plump, my entire face was swollen from poison ivy. If that description doesn’t click, look at my face, color it red, inflate. Being that this was my first day at a brand new school, I did not want to go. But I had to, because my parents made me. So I arrived at school that morning, went up to my teacher, and he asked me, in disgust, “What are you,” and I was scarred for life. I’m just kidding, he was a very nice man and he said, “Jack, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Take your seat whenever you’re ready.” Off I went. And that day began my wonderful career, here, at Milton Academy. Throughout that traumatic event, it was almost like there was a little voice in the back of my head, telling me to stop. And while I had the urge to listen, there was a stronger force, telling me to go, which was my parents, granted, but I’m glad there was. For if I had stopped, stayed home, and gave in to my nerves, I would have missed that first day and maybe a few more, and it would have been really hard to fit in. It’s always better to embrace “the go,” even when it’s a bit frightening.

So now let’s fast forward, to the summer after eighth grade, when some life obstacles of my own almost caused me to stop doing what I loved. No longer a swollen tween, I was now a underwhelming teen, enrolled at a sailing camp. One day, I was sitting in a sailboat, bending my head back, cooling off in the water. And for some reason, I lifted my head, and the boom, which is a large metal pole that holds the bottom of the sail, swung around and knocked me right in the forehead. I was concussed; I could not believe it but I had seriously injured myself from sitting still in a sailboat. After that unfortunate event, there was a higher risk of more serious injury if I were to get hit again, I could have left the camp, I could have quit sailing, but I didn’t because I loved it. So I returned to camp the next summer, and you won’t believe it but the same thing happened again, except this time worse. I got hit, harder, in the temple. The doctor at the ER asked me, “Were you in a car accident”; and I said “No, I was recreationally boating.” After that second injury, the risk of serious brain trauma, were I to get hit a third time, was even greater. I was going to have to stop. But I found a helmet that I could wear to protect my head and keep on sailing. It was pretty embarrassing, I gotta say, but it allowed me to stay in the sport. I just finished my fourth year competing for the team here at Milton. I made some awesome memories at that camp. I made better ones on the team. If I had stopped, if I had succumbed to the obstacle of injury, I would have missed out, now I also would have saved like a thousand of my best brains cells, but that’s beyond the point. It is always the better choice to find ways around your obstacles and go, rather than stop.

Challenges will present themselves; fear will always be a part of the human psyche. Which is why it is so important to constantly be in a go mindset. I learned this at a young age. If I had stopped, in fifth grade or after eighth, I would have lost a lot.

And now today, as graduating, high school seniors, we are left with a similar choice, to stop–to focus on the discomfort of leaving Milton–or to go–to take hold of the future and experience, to the fullest, all that lies ahead. What do we do? Stop or go? The answer is always go. But, that does not mean it’s an easy choice; the future is terrifying. Jobs, family, responsibility, being an adult. You ever been to Home Depot, cause my Dad occasionally goes, and I’m like, “Dad, what do they even sell there? Cause I don’t think it’s homes, and it’s definitely not depots? Who even sells depots?? Office Depot? Maybe. And what about LinkedIn profiles, those are even worse. What are they even linking, your profile to job prospects? Possibly, but I’m skeptical. And eHarmony, worst of them all? I’m not even sure there’s much harmony involved, more just awkward small talk.  So you see, the future is kinda scary. But we’re all going off to new places. We’ll meet new people; we have to make new friends. There are many decisions ahead, and much less helpful support and effective advice out there. Yet, in the face of all that uncertainty, we must carry on.

We are entering a world with so much opportunity and freedom. And while there are future responsibilities to worry about, there are even more exciting times to look forward to. There is so much freedom to come, which is thrilling. And while I am telling you to go, because I know, personally, the value, of overcoming your doubts, it is Milton that makes it such an easy choice. From the first day that we arrive, Milton prepares us for this very moment. All the lessons we’ve learned, all the information we’ve been taught, and all the experiences we’ve endured are in anticipation of this life juncture. We are literally trained to thrive beyond the bounds of campus. So although, right now, we are technically stopped, as we sit and wait at graduation, the second those diplomas hit our hands is the second that we need to decide to go, Class of 2018, become professional basketball players, excel as concert musicians, and lead us as charismatic politicians. Do what you will. But know that we have learned too much; we are too prepared, to not go. Sure, we can stop, focus on the past, or we can go, experience a bright future. And technically we could also abide by this, but that’s a whole other speech folks. So, What do we say, Class of 2018, Let’s go.

Thank You.

Good morning students, faculty, families, and those of you who came because you’re passionate about watching flags carried slowly.

It’s an honor to be here. Let me first congratulate the families whose love and support helped these students reach this stage. We tell the graduates that this is their day, but families, it’s your day too. That’s why we’re dressed like this. And my congratulations to the class of 2018. You did it! And now it’s time to snatch that diploma, step out into that big beautiful world, and turn 30.

Every graduation speech tells students to “believe in yourself.” But no one tells you how to believe in yourself. It’s like saying to beach-goers, “The ocean is rough out there. So remember: don’t drown.” That advice is useless if you don’t tell us how. So that’s what I want to do today: give you some advice on how to believe in yourself.

Fifteen years ago, I was a student here. Back then, I lived in Forbes House, I was Head Monitor, and I went by the name “Trey.” It’s important to note: that’s just a name I made up before the first day of Milton. “CJ Hunt” had the appeal of an annoying kid brother. CJ would introduce himself like “Hi there, I’m CJ.” I wanted to rebrand myself as a young man with real sex appeal. So I invented a version of myself named Trey. Trey oozed confidence. Trey would introduce himself like “Heh, I’m Treh [head nod]. Maybe I’ll see you ‘round [sexily and nonchalantly walk away before the conversation is over].” And for the first week, the whole Trey thing actually worked. The sophomore girls were like “Ooh, who is that new kid, Trey? So mysterious!” But by the second week, people were wondering “Ewww, who is that sketchy dude, Trey? Always whispering!” So I dropped the act. But by that time, I had already introduced myself to the whole school as this dumb new name. So I had to call myself Trey for the next 3 years. To this day, any papers or awards I received from this School say “Trey Hunt.” It’s really embarrassing. It’s also exactly what I love about Milton: this a place for reinventing yourself. At Milton, you have space to try on new parts of your personality just to see how they fit.

In my junior year, I was lucky to try speech team. I only tried it because I didn’t want to spend another winter on the wrestling team. Because as it turns out, wrestling hurts. In fact, it hurts very bad. One could even say the entire point of wrestling is to hurt someone until they give up and say, “Please stop hurting me.” So, I tried speech team.

Every speech tournament is the same: You wake up at the crack of dawn, you iron your suit while the morning is still quiet and blue. You board a bus to a sprawling public high school where you are just one of 100 professionally dressed teens. And you have 10 minutes to show a panel of judges that you are more compelling, or funnier, than everyone else in the room. If that sounds not fun, I assure you, it’s way more fun than wrestling.

And it was terrifying every time. No matter how many times I won, I’d approach every tournament thinking: I hope I don’t suck this time. No matter how much I prepared, I’d worry that that day would be the day I discover: I don’t belong here.

I’m sure you’re familiar with that feeling. Think about who you were when you first stepped foot on campus. Now, think of all the things you’ve tried since then. The times you stepped out on a limb and thought, “Here we go. I hope I don’t embarrass myself.”

I’ll bet that somewhere among those tries, you discovered something about yourself that you never saw coming. I’ll even bet that some of you now define yourself by a talent or skill you discovered here. You are different today because of the things you’ve tried here. Some members of your family would even say you are unrecognizable from the kid they dropped off years ago.

And that’s because trying changes us. Not in any way that you can notice in the moment, but it shows us new parts of who we can be. Trying is how you learn how to believe in yourself.

Believing in yourself isn’t about optimism. It’s about hard evidence. Evidence that you build it up over the course of years.

Pushing through the fear I felt in every speech tournament made me believe that I could pull off an improv and sketch comedy senior project. And that made me believe that I could audition for my college improv group. Which made me believe that I could start my own sketch comedy group and tour around the country.  Which made me believe that I could write and film sketches. And when those sketches landed me in front of people who asked if I could come write and direct for late night television, I looked back at the trail of evidence and thought, “Um, yeah…I believe I can.”

Every time you try something new, you create a trail of evidence about what you like, what you don’t like and, most importantly, what you can do. Trying new things is the only way you find the you that you’re supposed to believe in. And the only obstacle, every time, is fear.

I don’t think we talk to students enough about fear. We tell you to ignore it, but we don’t tell you how strong it is. How cunning it is. How it will find its way into everything you do. So let me be clear: Class of 2018, you will change the world…but the whole time, you’ll feel like a total imposter.

You will challenge the status quo, you’ll cure diseases, expand the boundaries of art, and ignite   movements that make society more humane. But at every step, you’ll be thinking “oh no, oh no, oh no, I suck at this!”

And that’s because following your dream brings with it a crushing level of self-doubt.

When we think of trolls, we think of sad men on the internet. But the strongest troll you’ll ever encounter isn’t online; it’s the troll that lives inside your own head.

It’s the nagging critical voice telling you that you’re not enough. Not smart enough. Not experienced enough. That you don’t belong here.

We all have a troll. I’m sure you’ve already heard it whispering that you’re not enough…of a leader. Not enough…like your older sister. Not enough…like the last senior class. Sadly, when most people hear that voice echoing in their head, they assume it’s telling the truth. But to do what you love, you need to be able to recognize that voice, and remember that it’s not the truth. It’s just the troll talking smack.

Because that’s what trolls do! He is an unwelcome cousin who lives on a couch inside your head. No one invited him, but there he is—vaping in the living room, wiping his chip crumbs all over the furniture, and waiting for you to take a risk so he can yell, “How dare you? Who do you think you are? Look at Mr. Fancypants trying something new. You’re gonna look so dumb.”

My troll is super strong right now. You’re catching me at time when I’m starting something new, and that’s when the troll likes to mouth off. After doing comedy for 16 years, I just landed a job on The Daily Show. I’m a field producer, which means I write and direct the pieces where correspondents leave the studio. I’ve only been at the job for 15 days. Most of the people in the office don’t even know my name yet. And even though I’m at a dream job—one that any past version of myself would die for—most of my day is spent just being afraid. Afraid that I’m asking for too much help. Afraid I won’t have something funny to say in the meetings. Afraid that when I go out to film my first piece, I’ll suddenly forget everything I know and everyone will realize I don’t belong here.

Spoiler alert: The troll doesn’t go away when you get your dream job. He only gets stronger. When you want the thing, the troll tells you you’re going to fail. And when you get the thing, the troll tells you you’re going to lose it. My job depends on my ability to show up every day, take a few deep breaths, and remind myself that I belong in the room. If you want to do work that’s meaningful, you have to become excellent at reminding yourself that you belong in the room. That you’re not here by mistake. That you have years of evidence about how good you are, about what your mind can do.

In two days, I’ll wake up in a hotel to direct my first Daily Show fieldpiece. And in order to battle all of that troll-y fear, I will do what I always do before a big life event: I’ll wake up when the morning is still quiet and blue and iron my shirt and pants like I’m getting ready for a speech tournament.

To get this job and every job before that, I had to walk into TV buildings that make me feel small. As I walk past security and down hallways lined with framed pictures of my heroes, I pretend that I am just getting off the speech team bus, headphones in, looking for the room where I’m supposed to perform.

Call it superstition. Call it habit. These little rituals work for me because they remind me that I’ve been here before. Not on this specific stage, not in front of these people, but I’ve been here… facing down a troll who says I’m not brave enough to take the leap. And as the evidence suggests, I’ve made it every time.

The most valuable thing Milton gave me is a habit for risk. I can’t remember a single grade I received, but I remember the words to every single speech team warm up. My brain held on to those because they are habits that help me face what scares me.

Whether you know it or not, this School has done the same for you. With all this trying, you’ve developed habits for taking leaps. The way you stretch before a game, the way you quiet your mind before stepping out on stage, the meticulous almost obsessive way you lay out your materials before you start writing, the private little rituals you use to remind yourself: I got this. I want you close your eyes and remember the feeling of taking a leap here at Milton.

Maybe you’re thinking about the time you wanted to puke before your Class IV talk. Maybe it was when you joined the step team, or ran for student government. Or when you played on the JV hockey team in your senior year. Maybe it’s the vulnerability you felt hanging your art in Kellner. Or the moment you first let an audience hear your singing voice at a Beatnik Café.

Maybe your leap was when you gathered the grace it took to teach the administration about the need for gender-neutral bathrooms. The courage it took to create a safe space to discuss eating disorders. The patience needed to teach someone you love why Black Lives Matter is not a threat. Maybe you’re thinking of a collective risk, like when your class stepped up to lead a hard conversation for the entire student body. Or when you took the risk of programing your own junior leadership weekend and had the realization, “Oh no, if this sucks, I’ll be responsible.”

The leaps you’ve taken at Milton aren’t just fodder for college essays. They are the armor that will shield you when doubt and fear come charging in. They are the evidence you’ll exhibit in your own defense when the troll accuses you of not being enough.

That’s how you believe in yourself. You create a mental playlist where you save all your greatest leaps. And when the troll comes stumbling in with a JUUL in his mouth, Cheeto dust on his fingers, and a whole lot of smack to talk, just press play, and turn up the volume. Let the sound of your leaps drown him out.

He’ll try to yell back at you, “How dare you?” To which you can respond: I dare often. I dare habitually. I dare so much that it I kinda forget I’m doing it.

That’s how you silence the troll. Show him the evidence of just how much you belong. Remind him and yourself of how many times you’ve been here before.

Now is a time when we need to be battling trolls. The darkest most troubling aspects of America are forces bent on telling others: you don’t belong here. This isn’t your country, this isn’t your bathroom, this isn’t your place to protest. In a world like that, it is a radical act to know that you do belong. In a world like that, the best work you can do is to remind others that they too belong. That there’s enough space for all of us, and any suggestion otherwise isn’t the truth; it’s just the troll talking smack.

Graduates of 2018, as you face a new beginning, I wish you the courage to try endless new versions of yourself. Some of them will be great. Some will be just be Trey. But every version will show you what you can do. Lastly, I hope you never let go of the people and things you found here that make you feel strong—that remind you of just how much you belong. I have full confidence that whatever you face out there, you can handle it. Because you’ve already been here.

Congratulations, you got this.

CUM LAUDE

I
Eloise Sinclair Baker
Jeffrey Hongcheng Cao
Alinka Cervantes Chicurel
Molly Elizabeth Chiang
Sophie Claire Clivio
James Patrick DeLano
Catherine Elizabeth Gallori
Alexandra Molly Galls
Aditya Gandhi
Jonah Seth Garnick
Cecilia Kar Guan
*Rachel Elizabeth Handler
*Patrick Jiacheng Huang
Max Hui
Rebecca Anne Karlson
Tess Hertberg Lenihan
Daniel Stewart Laster Little
Warwick Peter Alexander Marangos
Truman Henry Marshall
Jade-Ashley May
Christopher Caner Mehlman
James Moore-Carrillo
Charis Shing Palandjian
Devon Alexander Park
Alexandra Meghan Paul
Nihal Raman
Jacob George Sloane II
Vivian Soong
Romain Jacques Higham Speciel
Nina Annika Taneja
Matthew Joseph Tyler
Emily Elizabeth van der Veen
John August Weiler
Eva Isabel Westphal
Amalya Scharps Wilson
Yue Yang
Maia Richmond Zonis

II
John Keppel Albright
Christy Zheng

* elected to Cum Laude in 2017

THE HEAD OF SCHOOL AWARD
The Head of School Award is presented each year to honor and celebrate certain members of Class I for their demonstrated spirit of self-sacrifice, community concern, leadership, integrity, fairness, kindliness, and respect for others.

Kuzivakwashe Valerie Chinyanya
Aditya Gandhi
Cecilia Kar Guan
Edward Enrique Moreta Jr.
Zachary James Edward Mustin
Devon Alexander Park
Ky Putnam
Eva Isabel Westphal

THE JAMES S. WILLIS MEMORIAL AWARD
To the Headmonitors.

Gregory Daniel Livingston
Kailee Yoshiko Silver

WILLIAM BACON LOVERING AWARD
To two students, chosen by their classmates, who have helped most by their sense of duty to perpetuate the memory of a gallant gentleman and officer.

Nicholas Ryan Gistis
Yue Yang

THE LOUIS ANDREWS MEMORIAL SCHOLARSHIP AWARD
To a student who has best fulfilled his potential in the areas of intelligence, self-discipline, physical ability, concern for others and integrity.

Jailen Rayshaun Branch

THE FRANK D. MILLET SCHOLARSHIP AWARD
To students who demonstrate high moral integrity, support classmates, and have established meaningful relationships with peers and faculty. The Millet scholars, by virtue of their character and deeds, are integral members of their class and hold great promise as future leaders.

Jade-Ashley May
Edward Enrique Moreta Jr.

THE LEO MAZA AWARD
Awarded to a student or students in Classes I – IV, who, in working within one of the culture or identity groups at the school, has made an outstanding contribution to the community by promoting the appreciation of that group throughout the rest of the school.

Edward Enrique Moreta Jr.
Ky Putnam

THE A. HOWARD ABELL PRIZE
Established by Dr. and Mrs. Eric Oldberg for students deemed exceptionally proficient or talented in instrumental or vocal music or in composition.

Yue Yang

HARRISON OTIS APTHORP MUSIC PRIZE
Awarded in recognition of helpful activity in furthering in the school an interest and joy in music.

Catherine Elizabeth Gallori
Dorsey Elizabeth Glew

THE GEORGE SLOAN OLDBERG MEMORIAL PRIZE
Awarded in memory of George Oldberg ’54, to members of the school who have been a unique influence in the field of music.

Daniel Stewart Laster Little
Jessica Rachel Smith

THE SCIENCE PRIZE
Awarded to students who have demonstrated genuine enthusiasm, as well as outstanding scientific ability in physics, chemistry and biology.

Molly Elizabeth Chiang
Catherine Elizabeth Gallori
Alexandra Molly Galls
Patrick Jiacheng Huang
Max Hui
Caroline Dorothy Magann
Warwick Peter Alexander Marangos
Charis Shing Palandjian
Devon Alexander Park
Amalya Scharps Wilson
Yue Yang

THE WALES PRIZE
Awarded in honor of Donald Wales who taught Class IV science for more than 36 years. It recognizes students in Class IV who have consistently demonstrated interest and excitement in science.

Max Jordan Andrade
Wilder Crosier
Garrett Franklin Doherty
Eliza Phillips Dunn
Sophia Lloy Vijayarani Hack
Matthew O’Rourke
Blessie Herradura Ruelo
Annabelle Fleming Stoker
Lauren Grace Walker
Madeleine Scott Weiler
Katherine Davies Wiemeyer

THE ROBERT SALTONSTALL MEDAL
For pre-eminence in physical efficiency and observance of the code of the true sportsman.

Timothy Patrick Casilli

THE A. O. SMITH PRIZE
Awarded by the English Department to students who display unusual talent in non-fiction writing.

Daniel Heyang Xiao

THE CRITICAL ESSAY PRIZE
Awarded by the English Department for the best essay about a work or works of literature.

Lyndsey Rose Mugford

THE MARKHAM AND PIERPONT STACKPOLE PRIZE
Awarded in honor of two English teachers, father and son, to authors of unusual talent in creative writing.

Alexandra Meghan Paul
Abigail Mae Walker

THE DOROTHY J. SULLIVAN AWARD
To a Class I student who has demonstrated an outstanding attitude and commitment to athletics at Milton. She models exceptional sportsmanship, leadership and dedication, and she serves as an inspiration and role model to her teammates and others.

Meaghan Casey Steck

THE DONALD CAMERON DUNCAN PRIZE FOR MATHEMATICS
Awarded to students in Class I who have achieved excellence in the study of mathematics while demonstrating the kind of love of the subject and joy in promoting its understanding which will be the lasting legacy of Donald Duncan’s extraordinary contributions to the teaching of mathematics at Milton.

Alinka Cervantes Chicurel
James Patrick DeLano
Truman Henry Marshall
Devon Alexander Park
Romain Jacques Higham Speciel
Matthew Joseph Tyler
Yue Yang

THE PERFORMING ARTS AWARD
Presented by the Performing Arts Department for outstanding contributions in production work, acting, speech, audiovisuals, and dance throughout a student’s Milton career.

Sophie Claire Clivio
Dorsey Elizabeth Glew
Nicholas Ryan Gistis
Jessica Rachel Smith
Dylan Harrison Volman

THE RICHARD PRICE ’50 PRIZE IN TECHNICAL THEATER
Awarded for unusual contributions of time, energy and ideas in theatre production and in technical assistance throughout a student’s career.

Joël Emmanuel Mentor III
Ky Putnam

THE KIKI RICE-GRAY PRIZE
Awarded for outstanding contributions to Milton Performing Arts throughout a student’s career in both performance and production.

Sophie Claire Clivio
Dorsey Elizabeth Glew

THE PRISCILLA BAILEY AWARD
To a student in her Class I year, recognizing exceptional athletic skill and admirable contributions to her team. This talented athlete demonstrates a strong work ethic and conducts herself with a spirit of teamwork and good sportsmanship.

Claire Elizabeth Dudley

THE HENRY WARDER  CAREY PRIZE
To members of the First Class, who, in Public Speaking and Oral Interpretation, have shown consistent effort, thoroughness of preparation, and concern for others.

Soleil Amelia Devonish
Cecilia Kar Guan

THE ROBERT L. DALEY PRIZE
Created by his students of 1984 in his memory and honor, this prize in Classics is awarded to the student from Latin 4 or beyond who best exemplifies Mr. Daley’s love of languages.

Rachel Elizabeth Handler

THE RICHARD LAWRENCE DERBY MEMORIAL AWARD
To members of the Second Class, outstanding in Mathematics, Astronomy, or Physics.

Daming Cui
Sarah Hsu
Anna Mikhailova
Lyndsey Rose Mugford
Wenqi Zhao
Christy Zheng

THE ALFRED ELLIOTT MEMORIAL TROPHY
For self-sacrifice and devotion to the best interests of his teams, regardless of skill.

Jailen Rayshaun Branch

THE GORHAM PALFREY FAUCON PRIZE
Established in 1911 and awarded to Class I students who, in their study of history and social sciences, have demonstrated interest, outstanding achievement, respect for others, and a deep curiosity about the human experience.

Cecilia Kar Guan
James Moore-Carrillo

THE BENJAMIN FOSDICK HARDING LATIN PRIZES
Awarded on the basis of a separate test at each prize level.

Level 5: Desmond Primo DeVaul
Level 4: Evita Thadhani
Level 3: Phoebe Thompson Mugford

THE MODERN LANGUAGES PRIZES
Awarded to those students who, in the opinion of the Department, most exhibit the qualities of academic excellence, enthusiastic participation, and support of fellow students, both in and out of class.

Tiffany Ting-Rour Chang
Warwick Peter Alexander Marangos
Alexandra Meghan Paul
Nina Subkhanberdina
Anastasia Daria Sukharevsky
Eva Isabel Westphal

THE MILTON ACADEMY ART PRIZES
Awarded for imagination and technical excellence in art and for an independent and creative spirit of endeavor.

Zoe Angeli Camaya
Jeffrey Hongcheng Cao
Tyler Daron Carlton
Hannah Wien Hachamovitch
Lucy Frances Landau
Runxiao Luo
Hannah Micah Neri
Lily Joy Reposa
William St. Pierre Torney
Jonathan Shu Xian Wu Wong