Nat Locke: Advice for life for Year 12 grads, via the hastily typed wisdom in my Notes app and Ted Lasso

Last week, I was invited to be the special guest speaker at my old high school’s Year 12 graduation ceremony. This is obviously a role that I relished but I felt the weight of responsibility for imparting some wisdom upon this cohort that they could take with them into their bold, unknown futures.

No pressure.

Firstly, though, I noticed that high school graduation ceremonies have certainly stepped it up since my time. When I finished Year 12, we had a modest ceremony in the school common room, which was ostensibly a tin shed where the Year 11s and 12s went to play ping pong and feel superior to the younger kids.

This year, the Mt Lawley SHS graduation ceremony was held in the theatre at the convention centre. A proper theatre.

While we just wore our best smart casual outfits, this year, the kids were all in official graduation gowns with snazzy sashes around their necks. Even all the staff were in their graduation get-ups from their university days. I felt like a muggle at Hogwarts.

Another major difference was that there was a photographer there taking a picture of every single student as they received their certificate. I have absolutely no photos of my high school graduation. Not one. Basically, we just appreciated it for what it was: a nice night out.

I can’t even remember if they gave us a certificate. I do know I won a prize. This year, the award winners all received a very impressive engraved glass trophy. For being the top student in Maths 1 (which as far as I can glean is the bygone equivalent of Maths Applications), I received a book about gambling. Presumably it was selected because it made a passing reference to probability, but it still seemed a somewhat peculiar choice to give a 17-year-old.

My job at this year’s ceremony was to inspire the Year 12 cohort to go out and take on the world. My first piece of advice was that if you’re giving a speech under these circumstances, don’t type it up a few hours earlier, print it out, then walk out of the house with it sitting in plain sight on the hall table. Because you will have to spend 10 minutes sitting in your car frantically typing dot points onto your phone in a vaguely panic-stricken state and that is a suboptimal way to approach an evening of this magnitude.

Next, I think it’s important to have an impressive quote in your speech. The principal spoke immediately before me and she quoted the great American poet Maya Angelou. I quoted the pre-eminent philosopher of our time Ted Lasso. “Be curious,” I told them, which is great advice, so I was pretty happy I’d remembered to tap it into my Notes app in the car.

I also quoted two comments from my high school teachers. My Year 9 maths teacher wrote, “One wonders what Natalie could achieve if she truly applied herself” which, to this day, still makes me laugh. And my Year 12 maths teacher noted that “Natalie talks too much” which given I now get paid to do it, I would like to say in your face, Mrs Leonard.

Also, I won the maths award, remember. So in your face again, Mrs Leonard.

When I was a wide-eyed, know-it-all Year 12 graduate, we also had a guest speaker at our graduation ceremony in the fancy shed. However, I couldn’t remember one single thing about who it was or what they said. So I was determined to leave this room full of little Harry Potters with at least one kernel of knowledge that they might be able to use at some point in their lives.

So I told them that when they move house, the first thing they should do is put their bed together and make it up with fresh sheets, because after a big day of lugging boxes and cleaning and trying to find the kettle in that box that you forgot to label, you just want to fall into a freshly made bed.

On more than one occasion, I have spent my first night in a new house sleeping on a pile of couch cushions. Of course, none of these school kids are going to move out of home for 15 years or so, but my hope is that when they do, my one nugget of knowledge goes with them, so they don’t have to feel the pain I have felt. That’s a literal pain, by the way. Usually in my neck, sometimes in my lower back.

After my speech, several parents told me this was a very good piece of advice and a Year 11 girl told me she didn’t really get it. Don’t worry, I told her. You will one day.