The world in a fishbowl – Feature Address at the graduation ceremony St Stephen’s College, Princes Town October 5, 2011
The world in a fishbowl
Feature Address at the graduation ceremony
St Stephen’s College, Princes Town
October 5, 2011
Chairpersons, Bishop, Archdeacon, Principal, Board of Management, My former teachers, Teachers and Staff and my teachers – I see some of my teachers here, some whom I recognise and forgive me if memory fails and I do not recognise others –
Special guests, and people of the moment, you the Graduates
Friends: and two special ones – Vimlah and Judy – who came through the years to this day believe it or not, we only reconnected a few months ago since we left school.
We will decide later if I should thank you for this opportunity to speak to you today later… but I begin an apology – my apologies for turning down several other requests over the years – and to several other schools as well. Apart from never genuinely having the time – as you see, life leaves little space for so much, I also did not feel I was ready to address such an audience.
I have shied away from speaking to this school or any other graduation classes in the past, because I sincerely believe that to be asked to give the feature address at a graduation ceremony means that one has something of significant value, some unique wisdom to impart to graduates and teachers and parents and attendees. In making such a request, it is as if the school is passing over its enormous responsibility to the speaker, saying we have done our bit, we are letting them out of our doors now, and we are asking you, the speaker, to give them one last lesson.
It seems fitting that this, my first address to schools, should be to my alma mater. Yet, over the last few weeks I was in a quandary in trying to decide what to say.
Happy World Teachers Day!
I could have spoken on the theme for today, World Teachers’ Day 2011, Education for Gender Equality, because there is so much to say and do on how we need to rethink education, and how we define success and failure. But it didn’t seem an adequate subject to bring to you, the 2011 graduating class of St Stephen’s College and my alma mater.
When I told one of my nieces of this dilemma, of not knowing what to say, her immediate advice was, “Go to the internet. Look for something someone has said at a graduation.” (I am sure that would have been the suggestion of many of you as well?)
To the now generation, that could actually have resolved my problem of finding something to say today. The internet seems the source of all things for most of you – the answer to all ambitions and dreams and aspirations to becoming rich and famous and fabulous.
But, if I were to turn to the internet it will be not as just the source of the information but as the subject of my talk. For after acknowledging that the internet is indeed a great source of knowledge and a remarkable networking tool, I would have to gently – or harshly – rebuke those who see it as the source of all things; the remedy for all ills; the solution to every dilemma; the sum all knowledge. I could easily take you through an exercise I have had to take many of my students through and point out the high price of lifting material off the internet – the millions in lawsuits that it has cost some.
And then, fitting nicely into the theme I have been given here today – Conceive. Believe. Achieve – I would have explained how all the information on the internet – every single bit of it – was conceived by someone; they believed that it might be of value to someone else and so they put it on the world wide web; and some did this so successfully that they became instant millionaires.
And then I would ask you to think of why do we tend to think of the internet mainly as a source of things we can use, as consumers, rather than as a place where we can present ourselves as creators, and inventors and generators of new ideas and new products and new knowledge?
Why isn’t our first, instinctive, initial response not what we can take, but the things we can conceive of and create and place on the internet to form someone else’s source of information… so instead of thinking in terms of taking something created by someone else and presenting that to the 2011 graduates of St Stephen’s College, why don’t we first think of how we can present something that is an original creation, that you or I or someone else may think is worthy to be placed on the internet because it is new information, or can be an inspiration for someone else – an original piece of work, conceived and designed and articulated just for this occasion?
The internet may be many things to many people, but at the end of the day, it is only a receptacle of the ideas of all of us. If we were to all go there to source ideas we will really be creating nothing new, just recycling and regurgitating the ideas of others and in effect, we would have contributed nothing to the march of progress or the development of our world, not so?
Well, that’s the direction a talk on the internet would have taken if it was to be the subject of my talk today: why don’t we think of ourselves as originators, as creators, as inventors, as conceivers, rather than just users and consumers, takers and extractors?
And that little discussion on the internet, some of you may realize, has provided the introduction to the topic I was asked to speak on today – Conceive. Believe. Achieve – to which I would add to more small words, connect and confidence.
While the internet has become, it seems, so essential to our lives, and a lecture on understanding how we may use it to serve us as a tool, not as a replacement to our minds, may perhaps be timely and beneficial counsel for you – our next generation of leaders and thinkers and activists and educators and economists and businessmen – on a day like today, it still did not seem the subject I’d choose for this my first formal address to my old school.
For after my initial admonition to not adopt ideas wholesale from the internet but use it as supporting props in generating your own; after my coaxing you to instead focus on adding your original thoughts and creations to this global storehouse of knowledge; after my urging you to believe you can create your own virtual portal as a keyhole to the globe and develop your own apps; and after I provide tips and examples by which you may become overnight billionaires, what else would there be to say?
The dilemma remains. What final lesson can I impart to these students who went to the same school as I did, who grew up in the same locale like I did, who in essence may not be much different than I am, save the few, few, few years that separate us?
It was clear to me that the answer must be in that – in the difference – in the few years that separate us, for who wants to hear about the very similar experiences in the school and in the uniform that most of you are this minute just now counting the seconds to shedding at long last!
So what can I draw from the few years that separate us? What bit of wisdom can I relay that you can take away and take out and reflect on that can comfort, or reassure, or inspire in the years ahead?
Shall I invoke an inspirational line from Shakespeare, or Walcott or Naipaul or Selvon or one of my other favourite writers to whom I go time and time again when I am searching to the exact word that will capture some profound meaning? That comforts? That inspires? And that encapsules the enormous promise and potential of life?
Shall I recall a favourite scene from a movie or play that provided inspiration at a particular time and from which you too might receive such inspiration?
Shall I play a strain of music, like from the Walcott musical I worked on a few years ago, that you can replay over and over again in your mind in the years to follow that may fill an empty moment and which may sum up the reason and meaning of our being that gives us the fillip to go on when all else fails?
I dismissed each of those in turn. Much like the suggestion of taking something from the internet, they seemed too much like drawing from second hand knowledge and talent and skill, and that would be cheating, stealing, plagiarism, not so – if I were to attempt to share something that was not my own?
Anyone can do that. Surely that would be an insult to the efforts of those who had been trying to get me here over the years.
So what could I bring here today, to share with you that was my own, of my own making, which I can hold up as an outcome of being a former student of St Stephen’s College, of this district, of this region?
What can I bring from me to you? My dilemma persisted. I’m sure this is beginning to sound to you like the never-ending story. I must confess, temptation stepped in, and ‘taking something from the internet’ seemed a nice easy way out.
And then my eyes fell on this fishbowl that sits in my living room — except, it is not used as a fishbowl. It contains no fish, no water, no substrate, no seaweed nor ornaments, no pump pushing up bubbles in relaxing gurgling murmurs.
In it are just some rocks, pebbles rather, none much more than a few cubic centimetres. And, they are not pretty rocks. They are nothing like the decorative kind you can buy in a store to put in an aquarium. They hold no particular mineral value. They are not oil bearing, nor are they evolving diamonds, nor rubies, nor even that tantalizing purple-blue tanzanite that are fetched from the volcanic depths of Mount Kilimanjaro. Furthermore, these rocks do not reflect my interest in geology, nor science, nor earth history, nor business, or any of the world’s mysteries.
Their shapes suggest no essential eye-pleasing forms or structures of nature that might stimulate architects into constructing lofty edifices of human civilization like that grand architect, Gaudi, and his monumental tributes to the art of nature that dwarfed any conception of achievement one might have as one stands in their presence in Barcelona.
Non-descript greys and browns and whites, the rocks in my fishbowl without fish do not even have aesthetic value. They do not resonate with colour or sparkle like those that built the Taj Mahal that may attract the painter’s eye, or the poet’s imagination. They do not carry hieroglyphics as the markings in caves in Africa, India, or Central America. And they certainly have no commercial value. They were not bought, nor would they be sold in a shop. Any visitor may easily overlook them, and at most, curiously ask, where are the fish, and why doesn’t the bowl contain the usually colourful substrate one finds in fish bowls? An unsupervised person might easily toss them away.
In fact, my fishbowl of rocks is of little value to anyone, other than me. And that value is, it struck me, that they are actual representations of the time between when I sat where you are sitting, and now, as I stand here, speaking to you. They are a collation of experiences in the some 45 countries and almost 100 cities of the world on whose soils I walked. (It reminds me of something someone had scribbled in my school’s yearbook – ‘good girls go to heaven; bad girls go everywhere’. I have been everywhere, it seems, though from a calculation, 45 countries is only a fraction of the some 198 listed countries of the world, so there is still a lot of world to discover).
While your eyes may widen at the thought and your mind question whether it’s possible – 45 countries, about 100 cities, and in such a short time frame – most within the last decade, I still gasp in disbelief with another thought: such a big world to be reduced to such small numbers.
In the process of trying to formulate this address, my eyes fixed on the rock-filled fishbowl, without fish, and then on one of the rocks in particular. Nothing really marks this one out from among the other rocks: no label, or identification, but it was one I recognised from Athens, Greece.
It took me back to the moment at the ruins of the amphitheatre at the foot of the Temple of Delphi at the Acropolis in Athens. I had desperately shuffled my agenda to take in a concert of a Japanese band, singing Grecian folksongs – in English.
(That’s multiculturalism for you. We do not have the monopoly on that as much as we would like to think although we do have some unique elements of it.)
As much as the thrill of that experience of visiting Athens was in fulfilling the original intention – of delving into the heart of western civilisation, thought and literature – it resonated another thrill: of being in a Grecian amphitheatre and with that came an upsurge of memories of a place, not too far away from here, and morning assemblies in its outdoor amphitheatre. The school, our school was built like a Grecian amphitheatre – we found that out (Vimlah, Judy, didn’t we?) when we were researching its history for the first, a special silver jubilee publication of the school’s yearbook. Though its design was borrowed from the ancient Greeks, the towering columns at the front; the graded steps where assembly was/is held, it captured the same aesthetics the ancient Grecians of the second century BC had in their architecture. Adapted to sit against the slope of hills in Craignish, Princes Town, with its fine architectural contours, I am sure you will agree, it remains the best-looking school in the country.
We take our world into the world. It was the memory of events at the St Stephen’s College Auditorium that I was enjoying during that concert at the Acropolis. It was almost like the architects – those of the second century, and the one who built the school in the 1960s had connected over the thousands of years. (Really, it was only I who was making the connection in my mind.)
(I might add here, that then, the architect, was only a name in a page of the school’s history – Colin Laird. He came to life for me in recent years when we worked closely in lobbying to restore another national treasure, the nondescript Biswas house in St James, the ugly sister to the more ornate Lion’s House in Chaguanas of the novel by our home-grown literary laureate VS Naipaul – A House for Mr Biswas.)
With that memory, evoked by an Athenian pebble (that is no different than any other pebble) I was transported across the two milliennia of Grecian civilization that the amphitheatre represented, to the 1960s when Laird built the school, and to my much more recent days at the school to which you are now saying goodbye.
A few years, but there have been a billion experiences since I have spoken to our assembly, at that place down the road which I carry around with me as one of the most astounding pieces of architecture in this country. (And one which we should endeavour to protect and preserve even as you seek to have a new school or expanded school, Principal Sargeant?)
One pebble was now triggering a ripple of memories. I began to test my recollection of the near one hundred cities in some forty five countries, from other pebbles in the fishbowl, each of which, though of no particular size, shape, dimension, sparkle, value or worth, came from one or the other of those cities.
None of the pebbles carry a date or a stamp of place as a reminder because that knowledge I carry around inside me, just like much of what you have learnt at this institution would not bear a label, or a subject title, but would surface time and again, when you are in need of this knowledge.
There, in my fishbowl, I found what I would speak of to you at this gathering. Unfortunately, my time is now up, I believe?
(It was here I was going to show a slide show that connects us to each of those places – but technological complications have stymied that for another time perhaps.)
My fishbowl became the bridge between the time I spent here, and elsewhere, and what I took from here to other places… and that didn’t require wealth, nor power, nor status, nor position to accomplish. (You may ask what did it really took, but that is a subject for another address, perhaps. For the moment, my short answer will be a pen and paper.)
A wave to the Pope at the Vatican; a bow to the Dalai Lama, daily talks in Uganda with Terry Waite – the Archbishop who was taken hostage in Beirut while trying to negotiate the freedom of others;
Touching the temple bell that Tulsidas, the author of the sacred Ramayan touched daily as boats carrying the dead drifted down the Ganges at dusk;
Through Japan, India, Malaysia and Singapore; parts of north, central and South America, backpacking through Europe, island-hopping across the Caribbean; to and from North, South and East Africa, then South Africa again, and India again, and Chile, and London, and Brussels and Paris again.
Making new friends, from places with strange names like Bhutan and Kazakhstan and Lithuania and Palau.
A birthday spent sliding down an overgrown goat path having foolishly attempt to climb the Old Man of Stowe in Scotland without food, water or sensible shoes.
The memories gushed over each other as if they were in a gurgling stream in the fishbowl.
Working with our Nobel Laureate Derek Walcott to produce his latest musical Steel; railing at bureaucratic pigheadedness at a culture meeting with Pat Bishop; forming a human chain in Scotland to demand release of political prisoners in Africa, or spending all night one Christmas eve trying to mobilize international media support for their release so they might be able to spend Christmas with their families;
Boarding a Greenpeace vessel to protest fish trawling, or clamouring for the right, of all of us, to information.
Surely, my folks would want to hear of my clash with the Head of Security of the British Royal Family at the Commonwealth Peoples Forum during the Commonwealth Heads of Government Forum in Uganda in 2007 where I was coordinating the international media for the Commonwealth Foundation, and from which I now have a treatise on how to quelled the ire of the power beneath the power of the British throne when he threatened to cancel the Prince’s visit, charging that I was the reason, but yet, by the next day, had simmered down sufficiently to facilitate front row videoing and photographing of moments of the Prince’s tour….
Or certainly, they would want to hear of lunches in the drawing room once occupied by Prince Edward and Mrs Simpson or dinner with the Duchess of the real Hogsworth Castle who keeps a real garden collection of poisonous herbs. Did I dare to eat, then, knowing this?
And I could recall the cheekiness of joining a group of women testing attitudes to condom use in Africa – this at a pharmacy in Tunisia in North Africa and the varying shades of disapproval we received from the male pharmacist there on our pretended interest in buying condoms.
And the conference rooms (of the UN, Commonwealth, OAS, CIVICUS, various world summits on arts, culture, gender and media). The meeting rooms and activist rooms that merge in a blur as there was little to distinguish them from each other, not unlike our pebbles in the fishbowl.
The inexplicable breathlessness that takes over on entering the haven to art and nature Gaudi created in his tribute to the Sacred Family in Barcelona.
The perfumed gardens and piping birds giving the perfect blend for provocation of the senses in that tribute to love, another creation of artistic perfection, the Taj Mahal.
Looking out the balcony of the Sunway Hotel in Malaysia, and wondering why the name seemed so familiar – yeah, the same Sunway name bandied about in references to the now infamous Calder Hart!
Standing on the Equator line in Jinja, Uganda.
Seeing an acorn for the first time – remember A-for-acorn, it was one of our earliest learning experiences but so alien because how many of us have ever seen an acorn. I did only a few months ago.
Being in the ancient city of the Mayas in Tenochtitlan, Mexico, or climbing its old world pyramids: Those once were only drawings in our history book, like Colin Laird was just the name of a builder in a page in our school’s history.
Discovering how the country Portugal got its name from the fruit (only recently I learnt that) while standing on the shores from which Columbus set sail and opened up passages for Europe to discover our part of the world; a working picnic trying to inject the Caribbean in plans for UNESCO’s directions on global culture for under the Eiffel Tower; passing up on a vineyard visit in Bordeaux France and stumbling upon Corajoud’s remarkable water mirror mirage at the Bordeaux waterfront;
An opera, an art gallery, a theatrical performance, a book launch.
Crossing the many rivers of the world and thinking how water has shaped the history of humankind – Having knelt at the Nile’s pulsating source at Lake Victoria in Uganda; sat at the Seine in Paris, tasted the Thames of London; gazed on the goings-on at the Ganges, shed a tear at the Tiber for Rome’s lost glory.
Traversing the Atlantic, the Pacific, the Indian ocean, the Caribbean sea.
It is a lot of world to contain in a fishbowl!
To the theme for today, Conceive, Believe, Achieve, let’s now add those two small words, connect and confidence.
Looking at this little rounded glass fishbowl, it struck me that here is the bridge between the years, and that particular day, when I sat in this very pew, receiving the final blessings and fare-thee-well wisdom within these hallowed walls. In it is the time between those years, and in it are the experiences and knowledge that separate us. In it are the changes that have visited this church, our school, our locale, our country, our world and our planet.
There is one thought that comes with all of it that I want to share with you. Never once did it occur to me that any of them were a better place than the place we are from; born where we are – on a small island, in the Caribbean, in a place that is a true microcosm of the world. It is because we are from here we can make any other place in the world feel like home.
This place allows you, us, like no other, to draw from the histories and cultures and experiences of all the peoples of the world because their histories are your/our ancestries.
And you’d have to agree too, that there is no better age to live in, than this one, where knowledge is not the luxury of a privileged few but a right of all.
At this time when information is available so readily, it is so easy to allow our minds to wither and imagination to die, but it is also an opportunity to leverage all the knowledge in the world from this little corner, here, because the place where you have been born gives you an insight into the operations of the world from the perspectives of all the cultures that form us (the indigeneous peoples, Europe, Africa, India, China…) – a perspective owned by very few, if not no other peoples. Whereas most operate from their monochromatic homogeneous corner of the world, we have front row seats to all of theirs (not unlike at the concert at the Acropolis in Athens or the St Stephen’s College auditorium), and the hybrids we are creating too, like the music of the steelpans which we just heard.
When I sat in a graduation ceremony similar to this, some, few, well really many, many moons ago; When we (Vimlah, Judy and others) exited the school walls and the gates of this church never to return, till now, I never envisioned the life that lay before me – no, never! So I cannot presume to tell you what lies ahead.
Curious thing, we are told that change is the only thing we can be sure of, but nothing prepares us for that – in fact, all our learning is geared to encourage us to resist change.
Perhaps the most challenging circumstances you’d ever have to face is the kind of browbeating that you will be subjected to by people and institutions caught in a time lag, and demanding that you conform to it as well.
In school we were told science is about facts, and the humanities are about imagination and never the twain shall meet. But we know, from the collation of now accessible knowledge on the internet and everyday unfolding events around us that the most unstable knowledge today is scientific knowledge; its truths are true only until the next find, the next discovery, the cracking of the next code, the expansion of the next formula.
The pace at which change is occurring is demanding greater and greater flexibility and most cannot keep up, not being taught how to keep up, not learning how to keep up.
There are many events, circumstances, opportunities even setbacks that will shape your life, but there is no blueprint, no roadmap, nor GPS waiting for you outside the church door that will point or talk you through the journey you are about to take.
Life opens up to you when you open up to it …. Be flexible, approach all with an open mind and an open heart. We close ourselves out to so much of what life has to offer if we do not.
And the benefits are multiplied when you do so with confidence.
That’s the word I was looking for when I began this talk. Confidence.
To the question: Why is our initial instinctive response about using/taking from the internet, not creating for it, for the use of others? There is a simple answer. It is because we do not conceive and envision ourselves as creators; we do not believe in ourselves, in our talents, in our abilities. We lack confidence. We see ourselves as small island people, from a small district, in limited circumstances and with insufficient resources, battling tremendous odds in a not-too-friendly world. We constantly compare ourselves to others, to the technologies and the institutions available elsewhere and feel inadequate. It is the source of failure. If we lack confidence, how can we believe that what we can achieve, become contributors to the world, rather than borrowers and takers?
Own your world!
We are everyday creating and recreating our world. That is the change that is constant. The world is of our making, and we already have all the ingredients to remake it into the kind of world we want – in our minds, in our hearts and in the raw materials that are in our communities. The making of it is in the quality of minds that would leave this hall.
I have said all this to say that you already have all the tools you need. You do not have to step one foot out of your district or village or town to achieve once you have confidence that with the power of you. There are raw materials all around you to achieve, just as Einstein and Galileo and Gandhi and so many others discovered, through working with materials in their immediate locale. Go out and find them!
You have the added advantage of access, from your home corner, to the enormous intellectual wealth of the world through the internet. Research and knowledge is no longer the privilege of the view but a right of the many – use it!
You have it in you, in your heritage, the substance of the heritage from every other corner of the world – in our human ancestry, as well as in our geological and natural history – think about it! I can’t think of any other society around the world, and indeed, have not encountered any other that is so endowed – not with the range and the diversity and proximity – in our everyday practices, our everyday reality. Draw on it as an unending source of knowledge.
We have been given all that we need to be the best person that we can be.
And growing up doesn’t mean giving up your dreams. How often we have been told that – grow up, get real! It is about continuing to believe in dreams and finding a new one every day to follow and to fulfill, and looking for a few more to fulfill the next day.
I challenge you, as you leave here, have one dream – at least one – and work immediately to realizing it. It might not augment your income or your knowledge or your network of friends, but it fulfils you. And then, find some more dreams and make them come true.
This day, as you now see, is not about me; it is about you so let me now add my, congratulations.
You might ask why am I congratulating you? Don’t you believe it? Certainly there is so much for you to celebrate today – congratulations. Being here is an achievement in itself, maybe you do not realize the enormity of this achievement:
Think about it – why should we celebrate you today? What have you done to deserve this – still in bobby socks and ribbons – some of you.
We are celebrating you, because well, just because you have been born. And we know that it is not “just because” – you have actually already achieved much more than the hundreds of thousands of infants who never survive birth. So look around and congratulate the person sitting on either side of you, and in front of and behind you and applaud that: for having been born, it is enough to celebrate you!
If you think that in itself isn’t enough, there is more: Congratulations. You have made it pass the hundreds of thousands who never have the opportunity to attend primary school. You got past primary school. Please shake each other’s hands for that, and maybe some applause?
Yes, we must now be feeling some sense of accomplishment?
Not only did you make it through primary school, you also made it into this school. And that means you have rocketed past a few more hundreds of thousands who never reach secondary school.
You are not among the school drop outs. You are not among the many youths who are on the street fending for themselves, holding guns in gangs and who have fallen to lives of crime.
As you congratulate yourself for making it this far, know that these things already make you all potential candidates for the title of young men and women of the decade.
As you congratulate yourself and each other, pause a minute, and acknowledge, too, that for those who have not been able to go to primary school or not having the opportunity of a secondary school or not having finished secondary school are in themselves not a signal of failure; and that your achievement does not make you superior. It is just that you have been a little more fortunate. While we bask in the glory, treat it as not an opportunity to gloat; but one to be grateful and give thanks and praise, as David Rudder will say, for such good fortune. You have been given, most of all, the capacity to dream and the tools to make them true.
And having done that, think now as you step out from this hall, from the school walls, from the gaze of your teachers, how can you return some of what you have been given? You have indeed already been given so much. The world owes you nothing; it is you who are in debt for all that you have received and are about to receive, because always there will be someone with less, much, much less than you.
Think of the knowledge and experience of your elders and how you can draw from that – and remember to give credit where credit is due (remember, my earlier admonition about plagiarism?) Think of how you can share what you have learnt with the less fortunate and how together you can benefit from your knowledge and their experiences – benefit not just materially, but mentally and spiritually too. How can the knowledge and experience of those of us who are in here, and those who are not, support, compliment and build each other? That is how we build community. In the world of which we are a part, it is now called networking – and I am careful not to say that in the world you are entering, because you are not about to become Columbus to discover a world that is already there – it is already there and you are a part, and a vital part of it …
We have been given all that we need to be the best person that we can be. Though it seems such a large place, the world is really a small place, a very small place. It can be contained in a fishbowl.
In each experience we are merely connecting the pebbles to form a bridge between our world, and the rest of the world. And if we fill up the spaces in between with confidence it bellows out into a very large place that is your own, and in which you have a significant part to play.
Conceive. Believe. Achieve, and connect them with confidence.
What will be in your fishbowl? You may be sharing it with an audience like this a few years hence. I thank you for listening, and for this immensely pleasurable and honored opportunity to speak to you.
October 5, 2011.
Procession of Graduands.………………………………….……………..…………………..Musical Interlude
National Anthem…………………………..……………..………….…………………………………..……..Pan Duet
Opening Prayer…………….……..………..……….……The Venerable Archdeacon Edwin Primus
Welcome and Introductions…………………….…..………………….……………….…Ms. Aneshia Beach, Ms Shara Khan
Greetings:…….………….….………..………………………..………..…Mrs. Joan Brown (Chairman PTA)
The Venerable Archdeacon Edwin Primus Chairman of the Board of Management, The Right Reverend Bishop Calvin Bess, Ms. Clare Telemaque, School Supervisor III
Principal’s Report……………………..……………………………….…………….………Ms. Allison Sarjeant
Musical Interlude “In Living Years”……….……………………..………….………….………Pan Ensemble
Introduction of Guest Speaker…………………………………………..………….…… .. Ms Shara Khan
Feature Address…………………………………………………………….………………..Dr. Kris Rampersad
Vote of Thanks………………………….……………………….……………….…………Mrs. Margaret Dailey, Ag. Vice Principal
Distribution of Tokens to Graduates; Presentation of Awards & Prizes: C.S.E.C. and C.A.P.E. Levels
Song: “You never walk alone”………………………………….………………..……….…..….Emilie Alpheus
Valedictory Speech………………………………………..………………………………..…..………Nalini Dookie
Chairman’s Closing Remarks……..…………………………………………………….…….Ms. Aneshia Beach
College Hymn & Prayer……………………………………..….……………………………………….Congregation
Blessing…………………………………….….…………..……….. The Right Reverend Bishop Calvin Bess