Earlier in June the Class of 2025 selected its valedictorian in Jaden Berger-North. From Grade 9 to 12 at SMUS, Jaden has distinguished himself as a dedicated student, a thoughtful leader and a well-rounded individual. On June 19, in front of a full gymnasium of family and supporters, as well as teachers, staff and his peers, Jaden gave an address that reminded graduating students that this was actually the whole point.
Here is Jaden Berger-North's Valedictorian speech and the video below.
Valedictory Speech
by Jaden Berger-North '25
Good evening. Family, friends, faculty and students, my name is Jaden Berger-North, and I am grateful to speak as the valedictorian for the graduating class of 2025.
I know it’s hot, and it’s been a long ceremony—thank you for being here with me in this moment. I’ll try to make these minutes count.
I never expected to be in this position. I never expected to be a member of the SMUS community at all — having attended public school my entire life, I was waitlisted until 2 days before the first day of Grade 9. If one unnamed student had stayed enrolled, I would not be here. It’s strange to think about the little things that compound to make up a life. I will forever thank that one unnamed student whose place I took.
I am grateful not only for being valedictorian; I am grateful to be the valedictorian of St. Michaels University School.
If you are here today, you are in some way responsible for the accomplishments of this class. I will not use this speech as a checklist of appreciation. However, I think some thanks must be given.
To the bus drivers, groundskeepers and others whose jobs go underappreciated, you are to thank for our beautiful campus, and the myriad of small necessities that help our community flourish.
To the teachers, whose role is to inspire, impart knowledge, and dispel doubt, I speak on behalf of the graduating class when I say you have succeeded. From the newcomers, like Ms. Martens, whose presence has continually inspired countless students, to those departing, like Mr. Turner, whose steadfast dedication to our school's growth will be remembered and cherished. Kudos to you; you have done an excellent job in cultivating this part of the next generation.
To Elliot Mairet, Mrs. Edgington, and Mr. Edgington, for refining this speech, and helping me give a sendoff to a school that has given me so much.
To my Dad, my Mom, and my Brother Kyle—for everything.
Finally, to our graduating class. I am honoured to speak on behalf of a group so uniquely bound. Ours is a community defined not only by optimism and empathy, but the unselfish wish for success. Your character has fostered communal values worthy of our pride.
We have spent many great moments together at SMUS, winning games or succeeding in classes, celebrating good news. These moments are easy to identify as important or life-altering. But they are spread between many smaller moments, like hours of assembly or CLC, which to many, and I apologize for saying this, could seem pointless. Standing there, awkwardly singing in chapel or trying to time your double clap during athletics announcements, it might feel as if our connection is forced by mandatory attendance. That the moments we share are somehow obligatory or incidental, routine or banal. But I don’t think that’s true. Because in the quiet between those claps, someone cracked a joke that was then referenced for weeks. Hidden in the hymn pauses and applause lies connection—tiny, unnoticed, but alive. Sure, you can skip a work block and keep your grades in tact; but you miss the small, unrepeatable minutes that bind us.
If you’re under the age of forty, you’ve probably seen a trend emerging on Instagram, where users post random photos with the caption “I almost forgot this was the whole point.” The important thing about these images is that they’re rarely a photo of a grand achievement. More often, they’re pictures of a nice sunset or a good meal, sharing laughter with friends. The kind of everyday joy you might miss if you don’t remember to look for it.
It was not until earlier this year I began to think more deeply about our time here. I have thought about what the wise people of Instagram call “the whole point,” and what it has been for us.
In my eyes, our time is defined by the vast successes spread across campus:
The historic accomplishments of our athletics, the assembly where we watched as the senior girls basketball team raised their provincial banner.
The artistic prowess of our students: the presentations of the musical titled The Prom, the show written, directed, and scored by Julian Gale, the play performed by the Theatre Company, the grandiose concerts at UVic, and the art shows.
The strength of our academics seen in scholarship wins, and an especially diverse set of university admissions: Babson, UBC, UC Berkeley, UNC-Chapel Hill, UofT, NYU, UCL, and a plethora of other prestigious and unique institutions.
The musical trip to Argentina; Oliver’s chastisement in the graduating class’ Snapchat group chat; the Winter formal; Wang and the Gang;—to me, our time is defined by initiative and a unique commitment to our community.
But this community has also been formed by many mundane memories. The “whole point” of your time here might be the accomplishments of our class, but it’s also probably the bad workout music in PE class, the ivy on the schoolhouse, the cherry blossoms that emerge during springtime. What binds us together is not one event but the accumulation of all of them. Moments good and bad, great and small: we were here together. This, I think, is what matters.
It is so easy to forget the importance of the little things that make up a life, until you see them ending.
Most of you will leave this room and never again will SMUS be the way it is now.
Whether that be a relief or a sadness, the fact is, we have graduated.
And so, class of 2025, as we move into this next stage, I urge you to admire everything that is the present, to live and never take for granted the beauty of living.
I urge you to wonder: what was the point of SMUS for you?
Was it the post game meals?
The late-night study session with friends that began on question one, and somehow, four hours later, also ended on question one?
The night you nailed a high C alone on stage?
Or was it something even smaller—the warmth of the library’s fireplace, the smell of the freshly cut grass in the morning, or the banter with teachers who see you as people rather than just students?
Hold that instant in your mind, let it remind you that the universe is unfolding as it should. That amongst the drudgery of daily life, it is still a beautiful world.
At SMUS, we have learned how to live.
And so class of 2025, Vivat!
In case you forgot, this is the whole point.
Watch Jaden deliver his Valedictorian speech:
