National Honor Society Talk: "A Fairy Tale"
By Dr. Nancy C. Parrish
Thursday, May 27, 2004

I would like to thank Andy Hunt, the officers and members of NHS, and Mrs. Nelson for the honor of being invited to speak here today. Greetings to Mr. Titus and to our guests.

At occasions such as this one, a speaker generally aspires to present an essay on the NHS values of leadership, character, scholarship, and service. However, I have recently noticed that most of my students start to look suspiciously sleepy or even a bit nauseated whenever I mention the word essay. I thought I might, then, try a different tact with you. So I would like to tell you a fairy tale. Actually, it's more like an epic tale: grand scale, forces of darkness and light, big-name performers, supernatural powers in that old-fashioned literary sense that will not get me fired for talking about them. Actually, I've plagiarized ideas from more than just one epic.

At any rate this is a not-for-profit story and it goes like this: Once upon a time there was a magical high school in the village of Midlothian, Virginia, an enchanting—enchanted—place named Robious High School of Wordcraft and Writery. Now the principal of Robious High was Mr. Titan, a great alumnus of Virginia Tech. And every single week he would wear the orange and burgundy of Tech so that no one ever mistook the fact that his true heart was down Interstate 81 in Blacksburg.

The fame of the students at Robious High had already spread throughout Midlothian. Sean "Zack Morris" Banks and "Screech" Rothenberg, "Kelly Kapowski" Sauvain, Jessie Recher, Lauren "Lisa Turtle" Peters and many more were third and fourth years who regularly hung out after school at The Max. They had grown up watching Ashley and Mary Kate; knew that Bijan Khalatbari would never get over his crush on Lindsay Lohan, no matter how much the rock group Usher claimed that he should "let it burn" and move on; and they all agreed that Britney Spears should have consulted Daedelus and Icarus before writing "everytime I try to fly, I fall without my wings."

They went to history class and learned from Professor McGonagall about the Trojan War: that Paris loved Helen, that Odysseus was married to Penelope, and that Achilles is married to Jennifer Anniston. In English class T.J. Jack, Brian Equi, Michael Hage, and John Gaglio fell in love with Elizabeth Bennet and swore that they would read every Jane Austen novel ever written. (I did say this was fiction, didn't I?). Ashley Langston, Megan Byrnes, Emily Schroeder, and Whitney Curtis practiced their athletic skills at Quidditch while Becca Marsh, Carol Suarnieri, Allison Byrnes, and Emily Lynn honed their skills in transfiguration class. Vanessa Grimes, who was always mistaken for Alicia Keys, decided to start a diary of her own. The chronicles also record that Rita DiSrazia and Josh Cromwell began their climb to corporate power with an inspired run for senior class treasurer.

It was a wonderful time to be at Robious. Mary Anderson, Heather Cote, Alex Foster, Elizabeth Swiatoviak and others rode their Nimbus 2000 brooms to England to find the tombs of King Arthur and Queen Boudica and other rulers of the old country. Emma Goodridge and Kirn Rilee became co-poets laureate of the school. And both Jessica Tiller and Maddie King became head girls for their respective academic houses, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

But even in the most happy of places are evils and challenges that must be faced and overcome. And Robious School of Wordcraft and Writery was no exception. Sauron and Voldemort had word of this good place and conspired against it.

"Lord Voldemorte," said Sauron, twisting in his chair and licking the yellow of Cheese Doodles from his fingers. "Lord Voldemorte, I would ruin Robious High, but, curse it all, they have the Ring of Power in their midst; and even though they do not know its strength, I cannot gain sway over them. How can I turn it against them?" "Ah," growled Voldemorte. "I, too, have done my worst against them. I kept them from winning a single football game this year, and even then they have not turned against each other. They are as united as any band of comrades could be."

But with those words, Sauron, insidious wizard that he was, felt a glimmer of a plan come into his mind. "If," he said," we can set four obstacles before these students and have even one fail, then we can create the confusion of doubt and disunity that will bring the Dark Forces to power."

And thus began the forming of The Four Great Trials. Sauron said, "I shall establish the Trial of Scholarship. This class has so many bright students that number 50 in the class is a fraction in grade point average from the first. If I can trick them into caring more about their gpa's than about genuine learning, I can lead them to failure."

"I," said Voldemorte, "shall attack their desire for Leadership so that if one person wins in an election, the other competitors will fall away and not offer help in hopes that the winner will fail."

"Ah, that plan will succeed," croaked Sauron," only if my strategy against Service works. If I can get students to serve only when it earns service points for NHS or BETA Club, then we will be well on our way to stopping any real support for school groups or charities in the community."

"And THAT," said Voldemorte, "will be the end of Character in itself. For then the students will be only for themselves—not for anyone else. They will be self-protective, cheat to get a high gpa, serve only when they are noticed, and help only if they can lead. Our Four Trials are hereby established and," he chuckled, "I trust that they will not fail us."

So it began. Ring Wraiths and Dementors made their way into Robious High and laid snares for all of the students. Some were large and obvious: the struggle to make prom decorations and move them to the John Marshall and re-do them again after the air conditioning water hurt them. Others were more individual: the battle of reading Mrs. Dalloway instead of just relying on Sparknotes. There were conflicts over continuing to go to track practice and staying in shape and good cheer even when all the meets got rained out. There grew personal clashes with friends over whether to abstain from drugs or alcohol or sex. And there were smaller skirmishes over whether to gossip about people because of their dress or manner or sexuality or race.

The attacks came from all directions as once they came upon Helms Deep. One evil boggart whispered when Zach felt unprepared for his French test, "A small bit of cheating will not matter. No one will ever know because you are clever enough to hide it." Spiders sting their prey with poison before killing them, and spiders of failure stung Jessie with words that formed in her own mind: "You have already failed—you have lost the election. Why embarrass yourself by being a help?" And yet another spider sank poison into Lisa, saying, "What difference can you make? You are not one of the popular ones. You're just one person that nobody else will listen to."

These attacks were made with the blackest of magic, because each Trial was made to seem like no large thing.

A Ring Wraith chanted softly in the halls, "What does it matter if you treat your family or friends badly—they have to love you and take you in, don't they?" Another bullied, "It's stupid to help with the literary magazine. Just go to one or two meetings so you can put it on your transcript for college."

Who can withstand such assaults on the heart and mind? No one. Doom and despair were upon them all. One by one, windows shuts, doors closed, chains formed to weigh down our adventurers, and they were all imprisoned within the concrete walls of a lifeless prison—for that is what school had become to them. And, the truth be told, that was what life had become for them: it would be their future because their turns of thought were forming now, in the present.

Out went the cry from all of Robious: "O Dumbledore, O Gandalf, O Wise Ones! Thou shouldst be living at this hour: Robious has need of thee: we are a fen of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, fireside—in all these ways we have forfeited our great human legacy." Even the band Black Eyed Pea chanted the call: "Father, Father, Father help us/Send us some guidance from above/'Cause people got me questionin'/Where is the love?"

And then, out of this blackest of times the wizards did send their messengers with words of strength and wisdom. The first message was smuggled in secretly by Richard Lovelace: "You do not have to stay imprisoned here if you choose not to: stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage." When they heard these words, they began to murmur among themselves and started testing the real strength of the chains upon them.

An owl from John Donne brought the message, "No person is an island, entire of itself; every person is a part of the continent, a part of the main. Any person's failure diminishes you because we are all involved in humankind." A window flew open.

From the word wizardess Virginia Woolf came the spell, "Only connect. The people whose arms brush yours in the hallways are your sisters and brothers here on this earth. Connect with them: learn their names, help them to grow. Know that in serving others, you help our cause." A chain dropped away. Alicia Keys disguised her message in musical words that would mislead those who could not read the code, "Some people live for the fortune/ Some people live just for the fame/Some people live for the power. . . Some people live just to play the game/Some people think that the physical things/Define what's within/I've been there before/But that life's a bore/So full of the superficial." Bars fell away from the windows.

A runic message from Tennyson splintered the doors: "Though you may not feel strong enough yet to move heaven and earth, that which you are, you are: one equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield!"

As the students received and understood these messages, light began to come into the school again and everyone could now see that these daily trials did truly matter. Some people's battles are plain: against Devil's Wort or Wizard's Chess or Magic Potions or terrorism or crime or drug abuse. But for most of us the Trials are veiled and often occur away from the eyes of others. As they did for Frodo Baggins and Harry Potter, the real trials occur in our hearts and and in our minds.

The two deadliest hazards that will confront you are not Tolkien's Two Towers but the Twin Lies: that what Jdo cannot matter much—and—that I cannot rise from failure. If you believe either of those lies, you will be in an Azkeban prison of your own making.

The trick is to throw the spell in reverse and say, "What I do matter?"—to say "I can rise from any failure." Then the evil charms will have no power over you. Sauron cannot win; Voldemorte cannot win; evil shall have no dominion.

Today I commission you in the Fellowship of the River. Go from this place knowing that you are on a great quest. Let no balrog frighten you from the path of learning. Allow no spider to poison you with the poison that makes you fearful to try, to lead, or to help because you're afraid you will fail. People who do good are not protected against all hurting. But they do decide get back up and keep trying— and their scars are their badges of honor, their lightning bolts on the forehead. This is the hour of the River-Folk. Be one. Make a difference.


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