Video: MHS Valedictorian Says Don't Be a Robot

Jenny Shih says it's time for a change.

In her remarks to the Morristown High School graduating Class of 2011 Thursday night, the valedictorian said now's the time to move away from familiar routines, familiar expectations, and to experience a world of possibilities. She urged the class to put aside concerns over daily routines, and focus on making the world a better and more vibrant place.

"Whether right here in Morristown or spanning the seas to a Third World country, risks and dangers will arise and threaten us. We will experience fear, anger, and frustration. But through these trials, we should never lose sight of our purpose–our call to help others, to lead the world into a promising, new era," she said.

Her full remarks are below.

Good evening. I thank you for the opportunity to speak in front of the graduating class.

Before I get started, I would like to clarify some important points. First, my real name, on my birth certificate, is in fact Jenny, not Jennifer. Second, I unfortunately cannot do everything, though I do try. Third, I somehow do manage to get an adequate amount of sleep each night. And lastly, perhaps most importantly, I am not a robot. I know what you are thinking, that I was designed by some gang of engineers, strategically programmed to rise through the ranks in elementary and middle school before my final invasion of Morristown High School’s bulletin boards.

Yes, I must confess that I have lately been either watching too many science-fiction movies or listening too closely to Mr. Kenny’s craze for comic books. But in some ways, besides our obsession with making random robot-like noises or doing robot dance moves, we share certain traits with these machines.

Perhaps straight off the childhood conveyor belt, we entered high school on those harrowing first days when we carefully followed those room number signs that conveniently pointed us in the wrong direction, or when we frantically ran from one staircase to another clearly unable to reach the 4th floor.

From then on, we received annual upgrades as we advanced into each grade level and faced its particular challenges. We not only increased our knowledge, experience, and maturity, but also proved ourselves to be quite durable. After all, we have survived through heat, hurricane, tornado, gas leak, and metal detectors.

Like robots, we have stuck to a mechanized routine. We have more-or-less unconsciously arrived at school, rushed into class before the bell rang, strolled aimlessly through the hallways, indulged in cafeteria food or the occasional Qdoba burrito, and attended after school activities. To us, this robotic routine has been basically the same since we first started our thirteen years of schooling.

The psychological state of being so accustomed to a familiar stimulation that we no longer seem conscious of it is called habituation. When we step into a Starbucks, for example, the smell of coffee lingers pervasively in our senses. However, with time, the smell seems to fade away to the point that it no longer seems present, and we thus become habituated to the smell. Currently, you are habituated to the feeling of your body pressed against the hard-metal chair or the gentle touching of your upper lip with your lower lip. Unfortunately, I’m sorry to say that you are no longer habituated to those senses, now that you have thought about them.

Slowly, but unknowingly, we have become habituated to life as seniors. Leading a robotic routine, we hardly notice how we have secured the coveted upper atrium, territorialized the senior lot, monopolized Varsity positions, seized lead roles in ensembles, and even mastered the decoding of the cryptic 5-letter rotating, but blocked, scheduling system.

Nevertheless, our robotic lives are about to draw to an end. Not only are we leaving behind our Seniority, but for many of us, we are bound to leave behind everything that we have grown up with: a friendly community, supportive family, fun-loving friends, and a comfortable home. We will be presented with new experiences as we are forced, whether knowingly or unknowingly, to abandon the familiar for the unfamiliar.

Initially, we will, no doubt, be very aware and conscious of these difficult changes as we might succumb to variable emotions. But with time, we will again become habituated, falling into ignorance and reverting to a mechanized routine.

A few weeks ago, my physics teacher demonstrated a simple phenomenon using a strobe light and long piece of string. The string, which was vibrating in an up-and-down wavelike motion, was placed in a dark room with the strobe light illuminating the string at flashing intervals. The string thus seemed to be in a fragmented motion visible only when the light shined, much like the flickering still frames of an old projected film. When the frequency of the light was readjusted so that it shined at the exact moment when the string reached its middle position, the string appeared to be motionless, to be in a perfectly straight line. Staring at the string, I pondered how easily we could block out the contexts of the vibrating string, and instead believe it to be still and not moving.

Our habituation to a robotic routine has likewise blinded us to surrounding changes. As we are able to readjust our eyes to get rid of those extra movements, of the unwanted responsibilities, trivial inconveniences, and exacerbating tensions, we can narrow our path to one of stability and security.

Instead, we must readjust our focus to see the “bigger picture” – that rather than being so engrossed within our everyday routines, we must educate ourselves with awareness. We must utilize our knowledge acquired from years of schooling to better understand the dynamics of this world, to be able to decipher truth from illusion, and to perceive the versatile string of reality through its peaks and troughs.

As we graduate and venture out from our comfort zones, we cannot delude ourselves that we inhabit a care-free world. Aware of the difficulties that surround us, we are called to answer the nation’s desperation for compassionate understanding, cheerful motivation, positive encouragement, and assuring hope. We are called to speak out in a world that demands leaders who will set aside self-interest for the public good. We are called to sympathize, to form lasting relationships with others, defining qualities that separate us from impersonal, emotionless robots.

Whether right here in Morristown or spanning the seas to a Third World country, risks and dangers will arise and threaten us. We will experience fear, anger, and frustration. But through these trials, we should never lose sight of our purpose–our call to help others, to lead the world into a promising, new era.

We have come a long way since that opening day, Thursday, September 6, 2007 at 7:40am, when we first congregated as a class in the high school auditorium. Fast forward exactly 3 years, 9 months, 17 days, and 12 hours, and here we are again, Thursday, June 23, 2011, congregated as a class for the last time in our graduation ceremony.

We have reached the end of one phase of our lives. But we also welcome the beginning of a new phase – a time of new decisions and opportunities that will direct each of us towards our unique course in life. We will come upon the inevitable crossroad, where Robert Frost’s “two roads diverge in a yellow wood.” If we were robotic, we would have a 50-50 chance of choosing either road. If we were cautious, we would take the road of least difficulty, of greatest familiarity. If we were courageous, we would take the “road less traveled by.”

But today, Class of 2011, I challenge you to take neither of the roads. Rather, I challenge you to make your own road. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once stated, “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”

Go out and explore the world without delusion. Go out and live unscripted lives, unhindered by robotic routine. Go out and carve a pioneering trail free from selfish desire. Go out and help others. Go out and make us proud.