DEI Director Pinchinat raps to GHS grads: What comes next, that’s up to you

The Enterprise — Michael Koff

A family cheers on its graduate as diplomas are handed out during Guilderland's commencement ceremony on June 24.

GUILDERLAND — Albany’s arena was bristling with joy on Friday morning as Guilderland’s Class of 2022 marched in — the young men in robes of red, the women in robes of white — to the sounds of “Pomp and Circumstance” backed by thunderous applause.

The crowd broke into Amelia Call’s rendition of the national anthem when she hit an exceptionally high note on “the land of the free,” cheering her prowess and then clapping warmly as they regained their seats.

Through speeches, music, and a video, the event crescendoed to a concluding rap by the district’s new director of diversity, Matthew Pinchinat, before the graduates were, one by one, called to the stage to receive their diplomas.

 

“Be astonished”

“It is truly wonderful to be here together in person,” said Superintendent Marie Wiles in the opening speech, referencing the isolation caused by the pandemic. “We will never again take for granted the gift of gathering.”

After the Class of 2020 held its commencement ceremony at a drive-in theater, with speeches projected on the big screen, last year’s Guilderland graduates were able to gather at the same arena just before the Delta variant reared its ugly head.

Wiles said a “stellar English teacher” who is retiring, Amy Salamone, gave her a book of poetry by Mary Oliver, a treasured gift. Wiles quoted from “Sometimes,” one of the poems in the book:
 

Instructions for living a life:

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.
 

She then patterned her speech to follow that advice. “I’ve always been taken by the plaintive call of the mourning dove,” said Wiles, describing the call as more mellow than the owl’s and sadder.

“One took up residence on my deck,” she said, which caused her to wonder: What does it mean to be visited by a mourning dove?

While she feared the worst, after research, Wiles discovered, “It means that, no matter what may be happening currently, happiness and peace will follow.”

A google search taught her the meaning of a dove in many different cultures, ranging from a sign of hope in Christianity, to a long life in China. Most important, Wiles said, the dove is a sign of peace.

“I have been astonished,” said Wiles of how often she has heard the call of the dove. “It seems constant.”

She interpreted this as a cry for peace. “Peace is what we need,” she said, whether in far-flung Ukraine or in our neighborhoods.

Addressing the graduates, who sat in rows of folding chairs on the floor before her, Wiles said, “We’re all counting on you to do your part in making the world a more peaceful place.”

She urged the graduates to use their voices to advocate for what is important to each as an individual.

“I have seen your art. I have heard your music,” said Wiles, acknowledging she has also heard students speak out against hate and advocate for gun safety.

Wiles concluded where she had begun, with a poem from Mary Oliver, “When I Am Among the Trees.” She read the last two stanzas:
 

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.
 

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine.”
 

To applause, Wiles advised, “Keep your ear tuned to hear the mourning dove.”

 

“Keep going”

“After 13 years of doing homework and completing exams … we made it,” said Senbahavalli Ramasamy, giving the student welcoming address.

She noted the diversity of her fellow students, from the athletic to the artistic, and said, “We not only learned to challenge each other but bring out the best in each other.”

When she felt “stretched thin” with college applications and schoolwork, Ramasamy turned to her dad. She shared his advice: “You’re never going to stop learning,” he told her. “You’re going to keep growing and the world will keep changing … You have to keep going.”

Ramasamy told her classmates about coping with the pandemic, “During this time of darkness, we came back stronger.”

As babies, she said, they took their first steps. “Our real first steps are when we leave high school ….,” said Ramasamy. “I have no doubt you will overcome any hardship.”

She concluded to applause, “Class of 2022, this is just the beginning.”

 

“Stand by me”

The Senior Class Video, produced by Audrey Cassella, Erilda Pengu, and Summer Fedorov, was projected on a big screen facing the graduatuates as well as a four-sided screen hung from the arena’s ceiling so that everyone in the audience could see it.

To fast-paced music, equally fast-paced pictures flashed by — athletes playing football, field hockey, ice hockey, soccer, lacrosse, volleyball, and tennis as well as skiing, bowling, and doing karate. There were prom pictures and school musical pictures, and photos of friends embracing each other.

A wide range of advice from filmed faculty followed, some of it humorous, much of it serious: “Be safe,” “Please be kind,” “You can do anything you put your mind to,” “You’ve energized my days,” “Challenge yourself,” “Take responsibility for your own happiness,” “You are the ruler of your own future,” and — in song — “Forever, you’ll stay in my heart.”

And then, to the soundtrack of Amelia Call singing “Stand By Me” with the cast of Smokey Joe’s Café, this year’s musical, pictures of the graduates as children filled the screen.

As the lyrics rolled by — “When the night has come/ And the land is dark/ And the moon is the only light we’ll see/ No, I won’t be afraid, oh, I won’t be afraid/ Just as long as you stand, stand by me” — photos rolled by, showing Boy Scouts, a zoo trip, Halloween costumes, school plays, boys in bow ties and girls in party dresses, kids riding a school bus — and lots of hugs.

 

“Start with hope”

“I am a fierce believer in the power of words,” said Lauren Reilly, giving the graduate address.

She then listed the Word of the Year selected by Merriam-Webster for each of the class’s high school years. The word is determined by what dictionary users most search for. Freshman year, the word was “justice,” which Reilly called “a word of strength.”

In 2020 — “a year of fear and unpredictability” riddled with rules and regulations, she said — the word was “pandemic.”

In 2021, the word was “vaccine,” which Reilly saw as a symbol for the end of the pandemic being on the horizon.

That year, she said, the class lost its junior prom and had to do everything, even playing sports, in masks. “As borders closed, were were expected to open our textbooks ...,” she said. “With each negative test, we were expected to remain positive.”

In 2022, having “hurdled every obstacle,” Reilly asked her classmates to think what they would have for the word of the year.

Reilly would choose “hopeful,” she said.

She finds “immense power” in that word and disparages being told, “Don’t get your hopes up,” which she termed, “a huge misdirection.”

Reilly urged, “It is wise … to dream of all we can become …. If we don’t end up hoping for the best, we settle for less.”

Reilly went on, “2022 is our year. After all, we survived … it is our time to get our hopes up.”

She conceded it is not easy to feel positive with the state of the world today, trapped by the pandemic and fearful of the future. “We are the light at the end of the tunnel,” said Reilly. “We have made it.”

She credited the high school librarian, Bernard Bott, with teaching her that hope without action is static. It takes tenacity to make hopes reality, Reilly said.

“We are capable of persevering even in the toughest of circumstances,” said Reilly, concluding, “Start with hope, continue with tenacity, and see how far it can take us.”

 

“OK to change”

After hearing the high school’s jazz band give a stunning performance of Richard DeRosa’s “The Funk Stomps Here,” Principal Michael Piscitelli addressed the crowd.

He began by asking for a moment of silence to honor three members of the Class of 2022 who died:

Anthony Chen, a hard worker who kept “an amazing notebook” and was killed in 2014 at age 10, with the rest of his family in a still-unsolved homicide;

Gabriella Cusato, described as “a true spark of joy” with a personality that was “caring and electric,” who died in November 2019 as a sophomore;

Megi Hamza, remembered as “warm and friendly, with a sweet disposition,” who died in March 2022 as a senior after being injured in a car accident.

Piscatelli then recognized outstanding students. Guilderland does not name a salutatorian and valedictorian.

Rather, honor students, with an average between 85 and 89.9, wear red and gold cords at graduation; high honor students, with an average between 90 and 94.9, wear silver and gold cords; and highest honor students, with an average of 95 or above are recognized with medals.

Students in each of those groups stood, to applause, and then Piscitelli asked students who had contributed at least 150 hours of community service — recognized with a pin — to stand. He commended them for making the world a better place.

Finally, Piscitelli asked seniors entering military service to stand along with any audience members who had served in the armed forces. The applause was resounding.

Piscitelli said he and his wife had sat in the same arena the day before to watch their daughter graduate from high school. While they felt “excited and proud,” he said, there was also “a kind of sadness” as their youngest would be moving on.

He recalled a conversation he’d had with his daughter in February as college acceptances were coming in. She felt stressed trying to decide on what major, what program, and what school community would best suit her.

“Many of you, like my daughter, feel you have to have it all figured out at age 18,” Piscitelli told the graduates.

He advised them it was OK to change their minds and said the average American worker has 12 jobs in a lifetime. “You should never feel you are stuck on a road with no detours,” said Piscitelli.

He said that Isaac Newton had started out as a farmer, at which he was terrible, and Charles Darwin had dropped out of medical school.

“Right now, you don’t know what you don’t know,” the principal advised his charges for the last time. He said he, himself, had started as an engineer and then went back to school to become a math teacher — and never regretted it.

He listed many accomplishments of the class from monthly student government forums to organizing an anti-hate rally. 

“You have not succumbed to the challenges but have risen up ….,” Piscitelli said. “You’ve left GHS a better place.”

 

“You are enough”

Hannah Kovelman gave a heartfelt introduction for the commencement speaker, Matthew Pinchinat, who was appointed this school year as the district’s first director of diversity, equity, and inclusion.

She noted that Pinchinat had started at Guilderland at about the same time as the Class of 2022, teaching social studies. 

“Mr. Pinchinat has gone from teaching history to making history,” said Kovelman.

She said he was also coordinator of the Focus program, helping students to reach their full potential and giving “life-changing advice.”

Kovelman hit a rough patch her junior year, she said, bringing her to tears. “Mr. Pinchinat sat on the floor with me and listened,” she said, concluding she now plans to become a teacher herself.

Pinchinat was greeted with cheers as he walked to the lectern, cautioning, “Too many of you have seen me cry.”

He described the class as resilient, visionary, and bold.

“You are visionary and you are kind,” he said.

Pinchinat then worked through the alphabet with a piece of advice for each letter, beginning with A: Always follow your heart.

B is to be the change you want to see in the world. C is to create an environment where we all feel welcome — and so on.

For X, Pincinat said, “I’m going to cheat” and advised, “Exel in all you do.”

Y, he said is probably the most important: You are enough.

At the end of the alphabet, Pinchinat said, only you can choose what comes next and advised, “Be the best version of yourself.”

He then doffed his mortarboard to do a rap, saying, “It’s who I am, not just what I do.”

“At the end of the day … What comes next, that’s up to you ….,” Pinchanat incanted. “I know that you are good. I know that you are kind. I know that you are true.”

The cheers rang from the rafters.

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