毕业生演讲是毕业典礼上最重要的环节，它包含着毕业生们对高中生活的总结，更包含着对未来新生活的展望。

每年的毕业季，HFI都会向全体毕业生征集“毕业生代表演讲稿”，每一篇演讲稿都宛若夜空群星，既有着毕业生们共同的回忆，又闪烁着属于作者本人的思想之光。所征集的稿件匿名处理后经由全体教师盲投，得票最高的稿件作者将自动成为“毕业生代表”在当届毕业典礼上进行演讲。

下面我们会先分享本届毕业生代表——Tiger杨铭同学在2025届毕业典礼上的演讲视频及中英文稿。

以下为毕业生代表杨铭Tiger

2025届毕业典礼发言中英文稿

Good afternoon, teachers, families, and fellow graduates.

It's an honor to stand here today.

Today is not a simple day.

Not a day when we are crowding to borrow calculators or swap notes before exams.

Not a day when the class group chat is filled with a dozen questions about deadlines, or where to submit project.

Not a day when someone casually plays a tune on the piano in the hall, and a small crowd gathers, just for a moment of shared pause.

Today -- we are here for one purpose: to celebrate the end of this shared chapter.

I don't stand here today as someone who always had clarity.

I stand here as someone who once lost direction completely, who struggled, who questioned everything -- and who is still becoming.

Three years ago, I entered HFI not just with a transcript, but with a fractured sense of self.

I had been through burnout, through paranoia, through the kind of fear that silences curiosity.

Three years.

A journey none of us could have fully imagined when we first walked through those gates.

Three years of projects that stretched past midnight.

Of long afternoons spent in heated debates -- in Model UN rooms, in classrooms after the bell, in late-night phone calls with friends.

Three years of discovering that high school was about more than scores.

That friendship can be built over philosophy arguments, badminton matches, or simply walking together after school under the same sky.

And if we look around today -- at each other -- we know:

We've all made it here, through very different paths.

But the questions we've asked along the way have often been the same.

What does it mean to succeed?

What does it mean to fail?

What matters when effort does not always bring results?

And where do we find meaning in the middle of it all?

Some of us may have turned to music.

Some to sports.

Some to conversations with friends, teachers, or even to long solitary walks through the campus.

Some of us -- perhaps reluctantly -- turned to books not assigned by the syllabus, searching for something more.

In middle school, I had loved learning for its own sake.

I loved history, philosophy, the clean precision of geometry.

But during the years of high-stakes exams, I lost that love.

Study became strategy. Passion turned to pressure.

We've all had moments of doubt, moments when the pressure felt overwhelming, moments when we questioned where meaning could be found.

Each of us has found -- or is still finding -- our own ways of seeking answers.

For me, that search led me toward philosophy. For you, it may have been through relationships, creativity, faith, or quiet reflection.

And that's what makes our journeys unique -- and yet deeply connected.

So, how has philosophy enlightened me? Well, it led me.

To Sartre, who taught me that being thrown into existence is not a choice, but creating meaning is.

To Nietzsche, who taught me that in the absence of inherent truth, we can become our own creators.

To Hegel, who taught me that the synthesis of contradictions is not confusion, but growth.

In some way, HFI became my dialectic.

I began with fear.

I negated it with rebellion.

And somehow — through the guidance of friends, teachers, and long nights of self-questioning — I arrived at something more complex: acceptance.

Not the kind of passive surrender.

But the kind that says:

I am both free and bound.

I am both in control and not.

I am a self that is forming, dissolving, and reforming every day.

And that is enough.

And I believe -- for many of us here -- learning that this is enough may be one of the hardest and most valuable lessons we take from here.

As we move forward, I'd like to share this with all of us:

Let’s not be afraid to be wrong.

Let’s not be afraid to be weird, or behind, or misunderstood.

Some of us may feel ahead. Some of us may feel behind.

But let's remember:

Being human is not a race. It is a spiral.

Growth is rarely linear.

And the most important learning we'll do here won't be on paper --

It will be in the moments we almost gave up -- but didn't.

I am not the smartest person in this room.

I am not the most disciplined.

But I am someone who has loved knowledge so deeply it broke me.

Who tried to rebuild his life through words, chords, equations, and silent prayers.

Someone who has hurt, healed, and now dares to speak.

And I know that each of us -- through our own ways -- have had to dare, too.

Our paths may have looked nothing alike.

But we are here. And that matters.

In this society, we are often taught to be cautious.

To fear mistakes.

To carry burdens in silence.

But I want to say this clearly -- not only to my peers, but to all of us here today:

We have carried enough.

We are not fragile.

We are luminous.

We are worthy.

We are the generation that dares to feel, to fall, to rise -- and still believe in knowledge as a form of love.

So to my friends: Thank you.

For showing up, again and again, in your own ways.

For being ambitious, strange, intense, hilarious, vulnerable.

For helping me survive.

To my teachers: Thank you.

For letting me exist as more than a grade.

To myself: Thank you.

For holding on.

And to the world that awaits us:

I want to say this in the end:

We may not always succeed.

But we -- this generation -- will never again live asleep.

Congratulations, Class of 2025.

May we always remember who we are -- when we are still becoming.

下午好，老师们，家人们，亲爱的毕业生们：

能在今天，和大家一起站在这里，是我的荣幸。

今天，不是一个寻常的日子。

不是那个我们挤着借计算器、考试前交换笔记的日子；

不是那个群聊里被Deadline、作业提交刷屏的日子；

不是那个有人随意在走廊弹起一段旋律，大家围成一圈，短暂驻足的日子。

今天，我们因一个共同的理由相聚于此：

庆祝这段共同旅程的终章。

我并不是一个一直清楚方向的人。

站在这里的我，曾经彻底迷失，挣扎过，怀疑过一切，如今也依然在成为的路上。

三年前，我带着一纸成绩单，和一个支离破碎的自我走进了HFI。

那时的我，经历过严重的倦怠、焦虑，曾经害怕到连好奇心都被吞噬。

三年。

一段当初走入校门时，我们难以想象的旅程。

三年里，多少个项目熬夜到深夜；

多少个下午，在模联辩论会上，在放学后的教室里，在深夜和朋友的电话里争论不休；

三年里，我们发现高中远不只是分数的战场。

友谊，能在哲学的争论中生长；也能在羽毛球场上，能在放学后一同走在夜空下的路上悄然生根。

什么才是成功？

什么才是失败？

当努力未必带来结果，什么才值得坚持？

而意义，又藏在哪里？

有人在音乐中寻找意义；

有人在运动中寻找意义；

有人在与朋友、老师的对话中，在独自穿行于校园的漫长路途中，寻找意义；

也有人，或许带着一丝迟疑，翻开了课本之外的书，试图在文字中，寻找那片刻的光亮。

在初中，我曾纯粹地热爱学习。我热爱历史，热爱哲学，热爱几何里那种冷静而精准的美感。

可在一轮轮高强度的考试中，我渐渐丢失了那份热爱。

学习变成了策略，热情变成了压力。

我们都曾有过怀疑的瞬间；

有过压力汹涌而至的时刻；

有过深夜反问，意义究竟何在的片刻。

我们每个人，正在——或者曾经——寻找着各自的答案。

对我而言，这份寻找，引领我走向了哲学；

对他人而言，可能是通过关系、通过创造力、通过信仰，或通过独自沉思；

而这，正是我们的旅途独特而又相连的地方。

所以，哲学是如何启发我的呢？

萨特告诉我：存在被抛入这个世界并非选择，但赋予它意义，是一种选择。

尼采告诉我：即便世界没有固有的真理，我们依然能成为自己的创造者。

黑格尔告诉我：矛盾的融合不是混乱，而是成长。

某种意义上，HFI 成为了我经历的一场辩证过程。

我从恐惧开始，

用反抗去否定它，

而最终，靠着朋友、老师、一个个夜晚自我追问，我走向了更复杂的一步：接受。

不是被动的屈服，

而是这样一种接受：

我既自由，又受限。

我既掌控，又无能为力。

我是一个每天都在生成、消解、再生成的自我。

而这，已经足够。

我相信，对我们在座很多人来说，真正认识到“这就足够了”，或许是我们从这里带走的，最难、却最珍贵的功课之一。

而当我们走向未来，我想和大家共勉一句话：

不要害怕犯错。

不要害怕与众不同、慢一步，或被误解。

有些人可能觉得自己领先；

有些人或许觉得落后。

但请记住：

做一个完整的人，绝不是一场竞赛。

成长，从来不是直线。

我们在这里学到的最重要的东西，未必都在纸上。

而是在那些，我们差点放弃，最终没有放弃的瞬间。

我不是这个房间里最聪明的那一个，

也不是最自律的那一个。

但我是那个，曾经热爱知识，爱到破碎的人；

是那个，试图用文字、和弦、公式和无声的祈祷，重新拼凑生活的人；

是那个，经历过伤痛，经历过疗愈，如今敢于站出来说话的人。

我知道，在座的每一位，也都曾用各自的方式，敢于走出一步。

我们的道路或许看起来毫无相似之处，

但今天，我们站在这里。

而这一点，本身就意义非凡。

在这个社会里，我们常被教导要谨慎；

要害怕犯错；

要在沉默中背负一切。

但今天，我想把这句话说清楚——不止对同龄人，也对在场所有人：

我们，已经背负得够多了。

我们，并不脆弱。

我们，是有光的。

我们，是值得被看见的。

我们，是这样一代人：敢于感受，敢于跌倒，敢于重新站起。并依然相信，知识本身是一种爱的形态。

所以，亲爱的朋友们，谢谢你们。

谢谢你们一次又一次地出现，以你们自己的方式。

谢谢你们的雄心、奇思、热烈、幽默、脆弱。

谢谢你们，陪我一起走过低谷。

亲爱的老师们，

谢谢你们。

谢谢你们让我明白，人的价值，远不止成绩所能衡量。

亲爱的自己，谢谢你。

谢谢你坚持了下来。

致等待我们的世界——

我们未必总能成功。

但我们这一代，绝不会再沉睡度日。

为自己祝贺吧！2025届的毕业生们。

愿我们，永远记住当年那个，还在成为中的自己。