I like senior speeches. Really like them. Seniors did not give speeches when I first started teaching here in 2003. Apparently they used to in the more distant past, because when they started doing so around 2006, they spoke of reviving an earlier Masters tradition. The speeches distill what initially appealed to me about this place: students’ interest in reflecting on important issues and their willingness to share parts of themselves they’d probably conceal in other settings. Senior speeches invoke and celebrate—in an almost ritual form—what makes us Masters. Best of all, it is students themselves, voicing each individual vision in a personal speech, who collectively shape and carry forward the culture of the school.

And this year we’ve had many fine speeches. Often they inspire, following the pattern of “I faced challenges yet here I am.” Other times they enlighten: “here’s what I’m figuring out about life,” or “here’s what I wish I knew when I was younger.” Occasionally, someone courageously owns up to his past mistakes and misdeeds. Thanks, appreciation, and regret come up a lot, too. Even though basic patterns emerge, the speeches aren’t formulaic in the sense of being empty. We all benefit from being reminded of what matters and of what makes others’ lives worth appreciating.

I’ve overheard some people wishing for more quirky speeches, likes some past ones, or for a performance in place of the speech, which used to be more common.   I, too, like a bit of quirk and performance, but I’m a sucker for the deep and moving. Keep the life-lessons coming.

One approach I definitely appreciate occurs when the speaker is brave enough to say something that doesn’t fit the more common what-a-fine-community-we-are tone, naming ways in which Masters has fallen short. I’m not suggesting rants or nastiness—it’s tempting to aim shared blame only at others—but people’s time at Masters doesn’t always feel great. No doubt, it isn’t easy to say uncomfortable things in front of 500 people. Nevertheless, a speaker honest enough to address hard issues creates two benefits: she unburdens herself by giving vent to what’s been simmering, and she points us toward doing better what we aspire to do. For those moments I am truly grateful, even as I squirm.