TISD 2025 Senior Perspective
The Pause Between the Notes
A Message from 2025 TISD Valedictorian Oviya Justin
Good evening everyone, Superintendent Brubaker, Principal Renner, administrators, teachers, parents, siblings, and most importantly, the Class of 2025. Thank you all for being here on this special day.
It's an honor to be here addressing you all as Valedictorian of Texas High, and I’m forever grateful to have had the privilege of receiving such a quality education. I know that's unfortunately more than a lot of people can say. We live in a world where receiving an education is often a luxury in many parts. The fact that we were given an environment to learn, grow, question, and experiment is not something I take lightly.
As I stand here before you all, I should admit that I’ve watched and read an embarrassing amount of speeches, trying to figure out a message that’s genuine and valuable without being too cliché. And through continued extensive research from highly reliable sources like TikTok, I’ve realized that I can’t stand here and provide you all with unsolicited advice when I myself feel most times that I hardly know what I am doing. Instead, I can only share my experiences, what I’ve learned or tried to learn, and express my immense gratitude to those who have helped us get to this point.
Most of us wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for our families. To all the parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, and uncles that lent their support to the Class of 2025 in any way, thank you.
To my parents, my rocks, my emotional, mental, and financial support, I owe it all to you guys. Thank you for the unconditional love, for never putting pressure on me, and for always building me up, especially when I’m putting myself down. You really managed to shatter those immigrant parent stereotypes.
To Raga and Jebin, even though you so rudely decided to leave our home years ago in pursuit of higher education and to build futures for yourselves, I’ve decided to forgive you. I look up to y'all more than you’ll ever know. Raga, you mentioned in your valedictorian speech that maybe one day one of us would be up here the same way you were, and I hope you take pride in your clairvoyance.
And to all the teachers and coaches, some of whom I’ve had for only one year and others for all four, thank you for your dedication, your patience, and your commitment to shaping us into the people we are today. Your classes challenged us, allowed us to grow and learn, and allowed me to perfect the art of procrastination and functioning on four hours of sleep— all things I will proudly take with me to college. Following numerous requests to do so, I also want to give a shoutout to Mr. Evans, who is also, in a way, graduating from T-High with the Class of 2025.
If years of piano lessons have taught me anything, it's that music is not just the notes, but the pauses in between them. The silence is often what gives the sound its meaning. We are in one of those pauses right now, a moment where we are leaving behind everything we’ve known for the past 13 years and simultaneously anticipating everything we don’t know. We’re suspended in a temporary limbo, ready to leave and yet anxious to start the next part of our lives. It’s daunting, it’s exciting, and it's tempting to immediately start dwelling on the past or making plans for the future. But as every somewhat motivational speech and cheesy quote will tell you: live in the moment. Or at least in this particular one, a statement I have failed to live by my whole life but one of clear importance.
Take a moment to look at those around you. Whether you know them personally or not, these are the athletes, student leaders, photographers, thespians, and musicians who have shaped your high school experience in ways you may not even realize. And just as we often overlook the impact others have on us, we also tend to underestimate the influence we have on those around us and what others might be silently carrying. So let this serve as a reminder: check in on the people around you. Talk to them. Be kind. Be present. Because someone’s smile or silence isn’t always a clear reflection of how they’re really doing. Mental health matters, and sometimes the smallest gestures can mean the most.
And if there’s anything our class has proven, it is that we don’t move in straight lines. Our futures aren’t definite, a simultaneously scary and comforting thought. And our success is not, and never will be, defined by numbers—an ironic thing to say as someone who has thrived solely on academic validation for the past four years. But I’m pretty sure it’s the truth. True success is not a test score, a grade in the gradebook, the number of trophies on your shelf, or the money in your bank account. The definition of success is individual, and it’s almost never material. It may be a sense of purpose, an obstacle overcome, a goal met, or just the simple act of getting up after falling down (both physically and metaphorically). It is for each of us to decide which one is ours.
So as my rant comes to an end, I implore you to live in the silence between the sound. Embrace the pause, don’t rush it. This quiet moment, the one between who we were and who we’ll become, matters.
Thanks again, and congratulations, Class of 2025!
