MYP Completion Ceremony Reflection

| July 23, 2018

Friday, 8th June, 2018.

The countdown has ended.

The gates are open. Today is the day.

We are lined outside the Ciputra Hall doors, some with black dresses, some with suits, yearning for the evening to begin. As the cue called, we lift up the hems of our skirts and straighten our suits, walking into the hall where our MYP Completion Ceremony and Celebration awaits; the moment we had shed blood, sweat and tears for.

All those sleepless nights, all those tears and all that time spent poring over assignments that seem to be written in foreign language (and in some cases, it might actually have been), all for official proof that you’ve been in school when you were supposed to? Why would you need one when you bear the mental scars as proof?

But here we are, minutes perhaps even seconds before we walk up to the teachers who hands us that certificate we have stayed up nights for, worked extra-hours for and cried tears for.

That word completion that we strove for soon gets lost to the flurry of music and dance and videos, showcasing fragments of our journey and our friendships. With 10A giving a heartwarming rendition of Photograph, 10B giving a surprise to one of their beloved students, 10C giving a ground-breaking dance performance of This Is Me, 10D showing their moves and voices and 10E ending the stream of performances, showing the audience where they got that body from.

By the time the sun sets over the horizon the ceremony is temporarily put aside in favour of food and good company for BukBer. It’s another reminder in the grand scheme of things, it’s the people and the life you lead, that matters the most.

Suddenly, tears are shed, pictures are being taken of proud yet saddened smiles, as realisation hits that DP and SBDP will be our next step. As we scroll through pictures, see our names on the certificate for what could have been the thousandth time, it dawns on us that perhaps, it’s not for the paper.

It’s for the stories we are willing to write for ourselves, the whittling of our pens that will one day ink the words of the future to come. It’s not for the word that we will see today but for the future and the sentences to come, the pages that follow and bind neatly into the paths that we may take.

So, here’s to the words we will soon ink into history.