Editor's note: This is a graduation speech that was not given during the ceremonies. 

You know, there's this proverb in China that goes: "The bird that raises its head out of the pack is mercilessly shot by the hunter." It's pretty dark. Basically, it's saying: conform, don't speak. A Chinese twist on "Conceal, don't feel." 

I think a lot of times throughout high school I felt like this bird. As the editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, I always had my neck out there, as I squawked away. It wasn’t always easy: I was a bird pretending to be a falcon, outwardly fearsome but inwardly fearful. I often waded into the crossfire of controversy, and took a few shots myself here and there at the administration. Well, really, more than a few. 

To be honest, I didn't think I had the slightest chance to speak at graduation, at all. When I walked into the tryouts for this speech, I realized who would be judging me. Sitting across from me were the administrators that I had in some way shape or form antagonized over the years. I had judged them for their words; now, it was their turn. 

The funny thing is, for all the criticisms I have levied against this school, I couldn't be more fortunate to have attended it. Let me explain. Saratoga emphasizes, preaches, instills the greatest lesson that schools might aspire to teach: that is, to speak up for change. My teachers, whether it was Ms. Herzman who told me — no, dared me — to break out of the box and tear its cardboard pieces to shreds; Mr. Tyler, who fostered my journalistic instincts and encouraged me in my pursuits even as the mere mention of my name made him lose his hair. Even the administration, yes, the very people I had at times fought with — they supported a culture of free discourse, and taught me and my fellow journalists the power, responsibility and subtlety of words. 

I say without reserve that I understand why Saratoga is a school that teems with creative life. I say without question that these classroom doors that hide these students before you, I say without question that behind them are things you cannot begin to quantify. When you gaze upon this class today, fear the audacity of their passions. I give you the girl who plays two instruments because she refuses to choose, at the cost of her sleep, sanity, and social life. I give you the writer who constructs intricate, subtle worlds out of the troubled recesses of her mind, and the entrepreneur who turns old junk into recycled goods. They are a few of the many that changed me from the student who viewed his peers as competitors, into the student who is fascinated by his friends; their stories, their personalities, their genius — who could disregard the magnitude of who they are? All I needed to do was look. 

And so I say without reserve, today, that I appreciate beyond measure my privilege to attend a school that fosters this creativity, that benevolently taunts its innovators into exploring and fans their passions into flames. We are all the bird that lifts its head out of the pack; in our collective numbers no hunter can stand — let the world tremble when it hears us sing. 

Allow me to end by posing a final question: What is the difference between a chicken, and a falcon? Now, Samuel, you say, don't kid me. Enough with the bird imagery. This isn’t the Audubon Society. A chicken is clearly meant to be fried while a falcon, I mean, falcon meat goes perfectly well with salad. 

No, the difference between the two birds is the difference between conformity and freedom. You see, a chicken enjoys an illusion of security, and lives happily so long as it lays eggs. A falcon must struggle to find its prey —  it leaves the earth and casts itself into the stars; in its treacherous dive back down even the smallest mistake could mean its end. Truly, it is a far more painful thing to be a falcon, and it is a far more troubling flight and fight, yet I say — not without doubt, but instead with hope — that it is a far, far, better thing than anything I know to risk, even suffer, in the cause of change. 

So on this day, I hereby relinquish my role as a thorn in Saratoga’s side. It truly is great to be a falcon. Thank you.