Masuk Free Press

Good evening. My name is Abby Urkawich, and it is an honor to be standing here in front of you all today.

I want to begin by thanking everyone here. To the administration and faculty members. To our friends and family. And most importantly to you all, Masuk’s graduating class of 2026. 

“You’ll always be Monroe.” Has anyone told you that yet? Gosh, I can tell you one thing: if someone told me that at any point over the past 4 years, I think I would have flipped my lid. And I’m not kidding at all. One thing about me is that I do not like Monroe. Too small, same-old, no downtown Monroe. I have been waiting for this moment since college was a thought in my freshman-year mind. For a long time, it wasn’t the “going somewhere new” that appealed to me. It was getting out.

Getting out of the town of kids who know you too well, who knew you when you wore jeggings and brushed out your curly hair because you thought it was straight. Who saw your embarrassing middle school crushes, and those who inherited their parents’ popularity. 

Getting out of the town that feels like a vortex of inevitability, taunting you every day that you’re going to come back to Connecticut, just like your parents did, your kids are bound to re-live your mediocre story. Over and over and over again. It takes 20 minutes to get to a good grocery store or a good mall, and the most recent high school breakup is the talk of the town. 

I have dreamed about leaving Monroe and never coming back for the past 4 years. But now that it’s finally happening, I don’t know how I feel about it anymore. 

“You’ll always be Monroe”. I swear, I hate that! But what I hate most is that I don’t think I hate it. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. I hate how the closer I get to leaving, the more I start to love too-small Monroe. Sitting in parked cars in Village with your best friends. Getting a medium at DQ even after you swore you were gonna start saving your $8 for better things (you do know that’s like half a Chipotle bowl, right?). Letting in the 5 random kids knocking on the McDonald’s door, even though they’re supposed to close and lock up at 11. 

Now, I leave you with my advice. I won’t tell you to work hard (even though you should), and I won’t tell you to dream big, even though I hope you do. Go into your siblings’ room at least once a week. Scroll on your phone, sitting on their bed instead of your own. Wake up 15 minutes earlier, and sit down for a quick breakfast with your mom and dad before everyone leaves for work. 

While I’m on a roll, Juniors, please stop parking in the senior lot. For the love of everything, just park in the stem lot like EVERY other junior does. Stop trying to crash all the senior traditions. We know you’re friends with the upperclassmen. Trust me, you’ll get it when you’re a senior. 

Skip more school, more classes. Don’t graduate wishing that you had taken more breaks when you needed them. Don’t graduate wishing you spent more late nights with people you loved, that you were less afraid of missing your period in one math class. Your absences aren’t gonna kill you. Your parents might, but the little number in your PowerSchool app won’t. 

It took me until May to realize how much I loved Monroe. If there’s one thing I wish to leave you with, it’s my mistakes, so that you might not make the same ones. You see, every unpaved road that destroys my car’s already-terrible suspension is a road that has watched me grow up, learn to drive, and seen me almost crash (awkward). 

I don’t think a graduation speech is supposed to talk about not liking your town. It’s definitely not supposed to encourage you to miss class and to get yelled at by the McDonald’s manager. Frankly, I don’t think anyone cares that much about what I’ve gathered these past 4 years. This is everything I’m most definitely not supposed to say up here. But you know what? Screw it. 

“You can take the man out of the city, but not the city out of the man.” – End of the Beginning, Djo. You’ll always be Dairy Queen, Village parking lot and McDonald’s at 10 pm. You’ll always be a too-small town and the same grade of kids for the past 12 years. You’ll always be freezing winters and people who really, and I mean really need to learn how to drive. Stop hating the town you grew up in. It’s always going to be part of you. You’ll always be Monroe.