FORM FIVE
Lam Tsz Lok
Respected principal, esteemed teachers, honoured guests, dear parents, and my fellow graduates, it is my pleasure to speak with you today. Not only have we grown academically in these halls, but we’ve thrived because of this school’s care. Our incredible memories of this school are a result of the support that we have received from it. As we stand on the threshold of a new beginning, my heart is filled with memories of the journey that brought us here.
Let us start with our schoolmates. I will always remember the late nights we spent in the library, not just studying but building the unbreakable bonds of friendship that define us. Although final exams felt like endless storms, we turned library study marathons into quiet acts of solidarity. We slid mints across desks to stay awake. We also passed notes scribbled with “You’ve got this” so that no one felt alone. Never did we imagine that a shared mint or a quick smile could feel like a lifeline, but in those quiet hours, it did.
There were PE lessons, even if the grass was muddy and we had to sprint onto the pitch to play football. We’d argue over positions but cheer when a teammate scored (even if it was an own goal). We’d stay late until the bell rang to practice free kicks, penalties and passing the ball back and forth. Are these not the threads that weaved our friendship into something unbreakable?
We cried when grades disappointed and high-fived after a last-minute goal in PE. We grew up together side-by-side. When I failed math, my classmate stayed back after the library had closed to explain formulas, even though he had a running lesson.
These are the warm, unforgettable, fantastic moments that won’t be recorded in our official academic grade sheets. The unwritten moments of friendship, teamwork, joy and mutual support that made us feel truly alive and human. They’re the memories that will stay with us long after graduation. They’ve shaped our hearts, friendships and who we are much more than mere academic achievements.
Because no journey of growth is ever walked alone, let us turn to the guides who lit our way – our teachers. Rarely do educators blend rigor with warmth as seamlessly as Ms. Hui. Ms. Hui’s teaching style is just like foreign education methods – lively, interactive and full of fun. Although she was strict with us when it came to grammar rules and essay structure, she was also the funniest teacher in the school. She designed all kinds of quiz games for our class, turning boring vocabulary drills into exciting competitions so that the whole classroom was always filled with laughter. Even if some of us nodded off in class due to tiredness from exam revision, she never scolded us. Instead, she’d walk over quietly and ask if we were sick or feeling unwell, gently telling us to rest our heads for a while. Is this not the truest form of care? Moreover, she volunteered to hold countless after-school tutorial classes to help every student catch up, and she even made her own customized homework for us, since she knew one-size-fits-all exercises could never meet our individual needs. But what touched us most was that we could message her anytime, day or night, with any English question and she would always reply quickly and in detail, even if it was late at night. She never doubted our abilities. Instead, she always had faith in us and held high expectations for us, cheering us on whenever we felt discouraged. Not once did she make us feel small for asking ‘silly’ questions. She just smiled and said, “Curiosity is the best teacher.” That is the kind of teacher who doesn’t just teach knowledge, but who teaches students to love learning.
Never has a place felt so much like home. Since this school is more than classrooms and textbooks, let us thank the soil that nurtured us. Never has a place invested so much in our future as this school has, for it provided us with the best resources and the most dedicated teachers so that we could stand firm and confident in the face of the DSE, chasing our dreams of entering university. Because the road to university is paved with late nights and tough challenges, the school spared no effort to support us. It arranged targeted after-school tutorials for every core subject to help fill the gaps in our knowledge and polish our exam skills. It equipped classrooms with the most up-to-date textbooks and online learning platforms and invited top tutors to share DSE tips with us.
Although these extra classes often took up our after-school time, we never felt burdened. Every teacher who stayed back with us did so out of love, not duty, and every resource provided was a stepping stone toward our goals. If some of us felt lost about our DSE plans, the school’s career guidance team sat with us one-on-one, listening to our worries and mapping out clear paths for our university applications. Neither the long hours in the tutorial rooms nor the stacks of practice papers would have been bearable without the school’s unwavering support. This support was the garden that nurtured us. We were tiny seeds when we arrived, unsure of how to grow, and the school ‘watered’ us with the best resources so that we could stretch toward the sun.
As we carry the spirit of our school with us, let us step forward with courage and kindness. Thank you to everyone who has been part of our story. Congratulations, class of 2027!
Thank you all for listening.
Lam Tsz Lok
Hi Jasmine!
Thank you for your email. I can’t wait to tell you about my unforgettable trip. It was the biggest culture shock of my life, but surprisingly amazing. You wouldn’t believe how different life is without Wi-Fi!
In contrast with the hectic city we know, the town welcomed me with a sense of silence the moment I stepped off the bus. It felt like time itself had slowed down. What were the first sights? There were no skyscrapers or traffic jams snaking for blocks, but more natural scenery which was scenic and magnificent, with trees and hills stretching endlessly. There was also a vast sea of vibrant flowers. And the sounds! Instead of the constant hum of car engines and blaring police sirens, all I heard were roosters crowing at dawn and birds chirping in trees. The biggest difference was the pace. In the city, we’re always rushing to meet deadlines or sprint for traffic, here every moment felt tranquil. I remember stopping mid-step and thinking, 'Is this real?' It was unbelievable.
Daily life there was a huge change from my normal routine. In the city, my morning begins with a blaring phone alarm, followed by half-asleep browsing through social media, then a mad dash to have breakfast before school. But in town, I woke up to roosters crowing and sat down with my family for breakfast, chatting about what to grow in the garden. How about tomatoes as big as footballs? Moreover, chores weren’t chores; they were little adventures. Weeding the garden felt like a treasure hunt. Fetching water from the well became a chance to spot butterflies fluttering or listen to my relatives recount tales of their own childhood in the town. Evenings in the city are spent watching Netflix, scrolling on my phone or playing video games. Here I read books that felt wonderfully tangible. The book’s pages smelt of ink and nostalgia and made me feel strangely fulfilled. There was no Wi-Fi, so I couldn’t scroll on my phone. Then, when night fell, instead of being glued to digital entertainment, we went stargazing. The sky was so clear and incredible. I was surprised to find that even without Wi-Fi or streaming devices, I never felt bored. There was always something to do, someone to talk to or some piece of nature to marvel at.
Social interactions in the city are often fleeting. Examples include a quick hello on the train or a rushed chat over lunch. In contrast, this town was a close community where everyone knew each other. Neighbours dropped by with freshly baked bread still warm from the oven. Kids played tag in the street without a single screen in sight. Adults sat on porches for hours, talking about everything from the weather to their deepest secrets. People made eye contact, listened without checking their phones and remembered tiny details. They also knew their neighbours so well that it felt like one big family. Despite my initial worry that I’d feel like an outsider, I felt more connected to people in that one week than I had in months in the city. I realized that technology, for all its perks, can sometimes leave us feeling lonely in a crowd. However, in the town, without it, I felt truly seen, truly heard.
Anyway, that’s all for now. Slow living isn’t about having nothing to do; it’s about cherishing and savouring what you do have. That peace and quiet isn’t empty; it’s full of life, stories and moments that stick to your heart. Would I do it again? Why not? I miss the roosters’ boisterous wake-up calls, the taste of homegrown tomatoes still warm from the sun, and the way laughter echoed through the house long after dinner had ended. It was a fantastic, wonderful, marvellous, unforgettable trip. I realised how much beauty lies in small towns. I learned to cherish slow moments, the beauty of peace and quiet, and the warmth of face-to-face laughter.
I’m back online now, so tell me what I’ve missed. Any movies so good they’re worth watching twice? I can’t wait to see you soon!
All the best,
Chris