My first day at Beaver was your first day at Beaver, too. (At least, those of you who started in 6th grade.) I remember walking into the building and thinking “everyone looks so tiny,”” while knowing how fast you would grow. My older daughter was a few months old at the time, and by the time you were in 9th grade, my younger child had been born, so I’ve been in this position to watch you grow alongside my own children (in many cases, you have as well — I apologize on their behalf for the singing along at the choral concerts – their rendition of High Hopes left a lot to be desired).

On the whole, all 85 of you have been far easier to manage than my two. In the entirety of the past seven years, I can only recall two moments when you have been upset enough as a group to collectively gasp in horror. The first was during the PSAT in 10th grade, when we read the instructions that required you to write out a certifying sentence in cursive. The second was when, as juniors during the college counseling classes, you realized you wouldn’t be able to read your recommendation letters.

So, I’ve written one for you as a class, using bits and pieces from your actual letters. Don’t try to guess, but parts of all of you are in there. Here it goes:

The class of 2019 plays all the instruments. They sing all the songs. When they take notes, they often annotate them with beautiful drawings. When they speak, it is often with joy, vigor, and passion. They lack bravado and are kind and thoughtful listeners. They are fashion designers, industrial designers, and botanists. Every one of them has written an original research paper on a topic of their own choosing, and every one of them will remember this process and product for the rest of their lives. Then can hold their own in any social situation, and are often the life of the party. But they are also introverts, cuddled in one of the many seating options, head in a book, face lit by the blue light of a screen. Sometimes, they are both of these things at once. They have a sense of fun and a voice. They make movies and perform poems, though some take the pictures and words in their head and share them only in two-dimensions, with pen and paper. They become other people on stage in a way that seems effortless and dazzling. They scoop ice cream, serve bagels, ring up purchases, are camp counselors. Little kids love them, and they are ready mentors, showing by both their actions and their words a path to model. Having grown up in the shadow of two horrific school shootings, they haven’t bowed. Instead, they walked out, wrote songs, organized, made beautiful and powerful things in the face of a system that sometimes seems set up to hurt them. They don’t stop fighting the good fight, even as they’ve dealt with loss and fear and hardship. They may be limping and injured but they still side on the sidelines to manage, to lead, and to cheer. One of them always has a Clif bar, should any of the other of them be hungry.

They aren’t good at everything. Fire drills are not a skill. Also, parking. (I put that in there before today, but thank you for proving my point.) But still, multiple faculty members describe the class of 2019 as “dreamy.” They are reflective, wise, and capable of accepting their own mistakes and those of others.

At the end of Toy Story 3 (sorry for the plot spoiler, but we’re not talking Endgame here, you’ve had time to see it. I’d also recommend you don’t go home and watch this movie right now, especially not with anyone else around, unless you enjoy lots of ugly crying with your family) the toys end up on a conveyor belt, slowly making their way toward an incinerator. It’s a harrowing scene, though you know in your heart they will end up rescued and safe. But they don’t know that, and even in the face of a terrifying unknown their instinct is to hold hands, band together, be a cohesive group right up until the end. The Class of 2019 is like this. They might not all be friends, but when things get real, they understand instinctively how to be part of a group, how to care about each other as individuals, and how to recognize their collective strength.

We could not possibly recommend them to you with more enthusiasm.