Thank you - Mr. Domino, Chair of the Regis Board, Trustees, Fr ...

John Balletta 1
Class of 2012 Graduation Address
Thank you - Mr. Domino, Chair of the Regis Board, Trustees, Fr. Judge,
President, Dr. Tocchet, Principal, Ms. Ross, Assistant Principal, faculty and staff,
family and friends, thank you. It is a pleasure to address you this morning.
I add a special and sincere thank you to my classmates, the class of 2012. It is
an honor, a blessing, to even be a member of this class, let alone to speak on your
behalf. While all of you were enjoying your first days of summer, sleeping late,
playing video games and spending time with friends, I was toiling over my laptop
with an assignment you so generously gave me. And I thought we were friends?
Although I obviously would have preferred a couple more lines of Latin
translations, I guess this will have to do. In all seriousness, I am truly grateful to
speak on behalf of such an inspiring class.
If I recall correctly, Dr. Tricamo, freshman speech class was… kinda similar to
this. Perhaps there were not as many people in the audience back then. Hopefully,
I will channel some of the lessons you taught us four years ago. Therefore, it is
very appropriate that I begin with an anecdote.
Just a few days ago, I was coerced into getting a haircut for graduation. The
barber, politely and predictably making small talk like all barbers do, asked why I
was getting a haircut. “For graduation,” I said. “Oh,” he said, “Where did you go
to high school?” “Regis High School.” “Regis?” he repeated, as his eyes seemed
to foreshadow the approach of profound wisdom. “What’s that?” So I began the
typical Regis description: Jesuit school, all boys, really smart kids, all-scholarship,
in the city… you know, we’ve all said this before at some point. “Oh, well that’s
really neat,” he said. “Are you gonna miss it?” I paused for a second before
answering, “Yes. Best four years of my life.” But then, then he asked that one
question every Regian dreads on exams: “Why?”
Answering a “why” question is difficult to do without background. In this case,
my answer was predicated upon a series of memories. This first memory comes
from sophomore year, on a beautiful May evening right after the Athletic Dinner. I
was hanging out and talking in the Quad with other sophomore athletes – and Joe
Pollicino. My parents sent me a text alerting me that the car was parked right
outside and we had to get going. Before responding to the text, I looked up at the
bunch of smiling friends collected in a circle on the green metal benches and
eternally damp stone steps. I listened to the echoes of laughter bouncing off the
bricks and windows of the Quad. I didn’t want to, but I stood up and told them I
had to go.

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Class of 2012 Graduation Address
Memory number two. It was a Cloudless August night just before junior year,
on the last day of REACH @ Regis. After working for most of July and August at
REACH, David Vargas, Mike Rogers and I decided to indulge ourselves and take a
visit to the green roof. I’d ask our Dean, Mr. D, to now don his earmuffs for this
particular memory. Right before we were scheduled to have our REACH
counselor dinner at Jackson Hole Diner, we got into the elevator and hit R. We
reached the top and slowly began our tour around the roof. I remember looking
out across the buildings and just glimpsing the MetLife logo. I recall gazing up
into the night and seeing the stars, the first time I had ever seen them in the city.
At that moment, we all felt that this place, at the top of our school, was the most
beautiful spot in the world.
Key and final memory: a couple of weeks ago, after a Lower Gym basketball
game with Mr. Carroll, after baseball practice, after the day of my last Regis test. I
was tired. I was sweaty. I had a bus to catch and, believe it or not, I still had
Calculus homework to do. But I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to leave
Regis, even after the 5 o’clock bell, even after most of the teachers and students
had already departed. I felt compelled to stay. I felt at home.
All of my other memories are summed up in that moment. That moment
inspired my answer to the barber’s question: why will I miss Regis? Because,
more than once, Regis felt like home. Because home can be the place where we
rest our heads at night and home can be a quadrangle, a green roof, the Tunnel.
Home can be the Midnight Run van, Jamaica or Belize, or our service sites. It can
be a beat-up baseball or soccer field on Randall’s Island or a brand new gym built
up from ashes (or Xavier’s gym, built up from Timmy Petriccione’s 3-pointers). It
can be Icahn or the Armory, a stage or a debate tournament, a retreat in Riverdale,
a retreat in Kenya, or a retreat within the walls of our own school. Home can be a
classroom, a cafeteria, a conference room, a resource center, a lecture hall, a lab, a
locker room or a library… well, sometimes the library. 55 East 84 th Street may
technically be the address of a school, but for us it and everything connected to it
represent so much more. It’s our second home.
Let’s ask ourselves once more, “why?” Why can we feel at home at Regis?
Why do we feel such an attractive pull towards a place where we are taught for a
mere four years of our lives, a place that is for some of us over two hours away, a
place without any girls? I would say some of the most important reasons for our
attachment are the men and women who do the teaching. To the faculty and
administration: your tests stressed us out, your homework kept us up late, you
sometimes went so far as to use all sixty minutes of an hour-long class, and we

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Class of 2012 Graduation Address
would not have had it any other way. Learning from you, both by the contents of
your classes and most importantly by the contents of your characters, has far
exceeded any of our sacrifices. We may forget that hydrogen bounds occur with
fluorine, oxygen and nitrogen. We may forget verb conjugations and William
Jennings Bryan. We all desperately want to forget everything remotely related to
Physics and PreCalc. But we will never forget the unrelenting devotion you show
to your students, your availability and openness, your kindness and commitment.
You have always been there for us, in every capacity and in every way. You have
left an indelible mark in our hearts, and for this we express our deepest gratitude.
To speak about the Regis experience is to also acknowledge the many sacrifices
our families have made in our first home. It is immeasurably difficult to be a Regis
parent or guardian. No doubt the first week of freshman year was filled with great
sighs of relief and praise to the Lord when our short text-message, “here,” arrived
to your phones each morning. We will send you one more message today. To our
families: today we celebrate our successful departure from our second home, but in
a couple of months we will also be departing, again, from you. You have always
been our biggest fans. For 18 years, you have guided us and formed us into the
mature young men in this church today. Looking around at my classmates, I know
that you have done an impeccable job. To you, families and loved ones, and
especially to those that touched our lives but were not able to be with us today, we
are deeply indebted. Our most fervent hope is that we have made you proud and
that we will continue to do so.
Saving the best for last, I have yet to name the quintessential aspect of what
makes Regis a second home for so many of us. To my classmates: the geniuses,
like Robbie Flatow, who can invent and develop a historical fantasy baseball
calculator; the linguists, like Chris Siemer, who can compose an original
mythological play – in Latin; the caregivers, like John Murray, who go above and
beyond our call to be “Men for Others;” the… people who can only be described
like Mike Woods, who can play three sports just as well as they can speak German
and play Nintendo 64; the jokesters, like Arthur Imperatore, who, instead of a
calculator, have the wit to request James Woodall for math exams; the musicians,
like Albert Quizon, who could bring Chopin to tears of joy; the runners, like Ryan
Phillips, who already bring Coach Donodeo to tears of joy; the debaters, like James
Elustondo, with the political awareness to watch Herman Cain’s dropout speech in
which he quoted a line from Pokémon 2000 and those, like Devin Bergstein, with
the audacity to shamelessly declare “Oh, I love that movie!”; the actors, like Steve
Ruse, who can discuss like a thesis the logical inconsistencies of the spell in
Beauty and the Beast; the athletes, like Will and Jack Salter, with the dominance to

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Class of 2012 Graduation Address
win pick-up basketball games despite having Sam Marth in the frontcourt. I think
it is clear to everyone that all 127 of you are incredible individuals. But together,
you guys make Regis what it is. I am grateful to have had the pleasure of getting
to know you over these last four years, and blessed to be counted among you.
The reality, though, is that our four years here have come to a close. I feel
tempted to say “unfortunately,” and for good reason. I loved my time at Regis, I
had a really great time, and I am sure my somewhat melancholy feeling of leaving
is shared by most classmates and families alike. But I don’t see this as an end.
Regis has always prepared us for the moment when we graduate to accomplish
bigger things ad maiorem dei gloriam. We look towards the future now, prepared
for whatever might lay ahead, using the lessons we learned here to guide us along
the way. Today, we go forth to set the world on fire. We can cherish the
memories of Regis, but it would not be fair to the institution that has given us so
much to dwell on the past at the expense of our bright futures. Besides, if we are
Regians, we can always find home here. We’ll be back eventually, strolling down
the hallways, visitor’s passes affixed, recalling our own memories one classroom at
a time. But now, we have more memories to make.
I’ll close on some of the words St. Paul wrote to the Philippians (come on,
guys, you knew when you picked me you’d hear some Scripture at some point).
These are the same words we heard at the Baccalaureate Mass, the words Father
Judge so eloquently combined with the didgeridoo. St. Paul writes: “Finally,
brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is
pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious, if there is any excellence and if
there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing what
you have learned and received and seen.”
Think about Regis, class of 2012. You will need this on your quest. And
keep on doing all we have learned and received and seen in our four years here.
Thank God for this time, and thank God for everyone who made it possible.
God bless you all.