Monday, May 25, 2026 — Convocation Hall, University of Toronto

Well… here we are.

The moment that has lived in your imaginations for years. The one that felt impossibly far away at times, and then, suddenly, arrived all at once. The culmination of everything: the late nights, the early mornings, the moments of brilliance, the moments of “how is this due tomorrow?”, and of course… the highly strategic decision-making around which AWC snack and Starbucks drink best fuels a study session.

Take a second. Look around. Really look. These are your people. Branksome Hall is your place. And while today is about moving forward, it’s also about recognizing just how much has been built.

One of my favourite memories of this year was our GY weekend. I arrived excited… and, if I’m honest, slightly unprepared for what I was about to learn. Not about leadership, solving complex global issues or the future of humanity—that might have made for a more impressive anecdote in this speech—but about pickleball.

You took one look at me and collectively decided, “She needs help.” You literally took me by the arm and led me to the courts. You were appalled that I didn’t know how to play. And you were right to be appalled. I was late to the game. Apparently, very late. I’m now fairly certain that knowing how to play pickleball is an official requirement of being middle-aged, so thank you for ensuring I have finally met the prerequisite for this phase of life.

And then there was the moment you taught me something critical to my growth and development. You taught me what “67” means. I won’t pretend that was part of any formal curriculum… but I will say, it was delivered with great enthusiasm and a level of clarity that some academic explanations could aspire to. So, while it may not have appeared on any report card, I appreciated the lesson nonetheless.

What has stayed with me even more than those PROFOUND moments, though, is something quieter. The rhythm of this year. The sound of a group of GYs just outside my office—spilling into my office, sometimes laughing, sometimes debriefing a tough exam, sometimes just… being together. Telling me about your day. Your life. It has meant so much to me. 

And yes, I’m fully aware that the gravitational pull of my candy supply may have played a role in those visits. I’m under no illusions. But I also know that what brought you there, and what kept you there, was each other. Those moments of connection, of checking in, of supporting each other, of sharing both the highs and the lows.

I will miss that. More than you probably realize.

You are a remarkable group. And one of the greatest privileges of my career has been getting to know you, to support you, and to witness who you are, not just as students, but as people.

And that’s what I want to talk about today. Not just what you’ve achieved, not just about what’s next….but what you’ve built.

Because what you are leaving today is not just a school. It’s not just classes, and assessments, and assemblies and teams and performances. It’s a community. It’s a network of relationships that have shaped you, and will continue to shape you long after you leave Branksome’s halls.

In a few short months, your world is going to expand in ways that feel both exhilarating and, at times, overwhelming. Everything will be new. New places, new people, new routines. And Branksome will start to feel… further away than you can currently imagine.

Right now, that probably sounds impossible. But it will happen.

And with that, something else will shift. The cadence of your friendships. The frequency of your conversations. The ease of seeing each other every day.

That will change.

And I want you to hear this clearly: that is normal. It does not mean your friendships are fading. It does not mean they are any less important. It simply means that you are growing, and so are they.

But growth does not require disconnection.

Send the text. Make the call. Write the email. Plan the coffee over winter break, the dinner in the summer, the spontaneous “are you free?” when you’re back in the same city. It doesn’t have to be constant. But it does have to be intentional.

Because these are your people. They matter. 

These are the ones who will sit beside you at future milestones. Who will open doors for you in your careers. Who will celebrate your successes in ways that feel deeply personal because they know what it took to get there. And who will show up, really show up, when life is complicated and messy and doesn’t go according to plan.

I was reminded of the power of that kind of connection very recently, with the passing of our former principal, Ms. Allison Roach, who led Branksome from 1974 to 1993.

This month, she would have celebrated her 75th reunion as a Branksome alum.

Seventy-five years.

Think about that.

What stood out most, though, was not just the length of time, it was the depth of connection. Throughout her life, it was her Branksome friends who were her family. It was the children of these Branksome friends who are helping us plan her celebration of life. It was those friendships, formed here, that carried her through to her last day on Earth.

That is the legacy of this school.

That is what you are a part of.

And that is what you now carry forward.

If you choose to nurture it, if you choose to stay connected, these friendships will not just be something you look back on, they will be something that continues to shape your life in the years ahead.

So, as you leave today, take your achievements with you. Take your confidence, your curiosity, your ambition…..every opportunity Branksome Hall has afforded you. 

But don’t forget to also take each other.

Hold onto this community. Tightly. Invest in it. Return to it.

Because in a world that will constantly ask you to move faster, go further, and do more, these relationships will ground you. They will remind you who you are. And they will make everything you experience along the way richer, fuller, and more meaningful.

You are an extraordinary class.

You’ve made me laugh. You’ve taught me things I wasn’t expecting to learn. And you’ve reminded me, again and again, of why this work matters so much.

You’ve been one of the joys of my career. Thank you for that.

We are so proud of you!

Congratulations, Class of 2026. 

I will miss you. Every day.