Audrey Gao
Y13毕业生代表
Graduate Representative of Year 13
Dear parents, teachers, and fellow students, good afternoon. I’m Audrey from Year 13, a graduate of Harrow Haikou’s Class of 2025. It is a tremendous honor to stand here today as a student representative.
I often find myself remarking to those around me: our cohort seems forever caught in the eye of change. From the shift to China-specific A-Level exams and the instability of overseas education policies, to the rise of generative AI, the first gene-edited therapy for rare diseases in newborns, and the increasingly turbulent global landscape—we live in a world of constant flux, often feeling overwhelmed. Even trust between people seems to be slowly fraying. Common ground feels hard to find, and still harder to sustain. It’s not that we’ve lost the ability to talk with each other, but we often find easier to retreat into echo chambers shaped by algorithms. Yet today, I realize that the very abilities I thought were innately mine had, in fact, been nurtured by Harrow;more importantly, it was Harrow’s education has ensured that our call for humanism has never gone silent.
I will never forget how Mr. Fischer presented me with the Chemistry Subject Award in Year 10, even though I wasn’t particularly outstanding in chemistry at the time, and how he has continuously encouraged me since then. I remember Mr. Wan, urging me to stop working on past papers when I was extremely ill, insisting I return to the boarding house to rest, and reassuring me through my academic anxiety that I was already smart and hardworking enough. I remember Ms. Phaup, Ms. Cathy, and Ms. Norma during the typhoon days, guiding us to the shelter, leaving all the resting places for students while cleaning the flooded floor again and again. I remember Ms. Long working through piece after piece with me, patiently polishing my writing—until, to my surprise, my literature analyse on My City was selected for the A-Level Chinese textbook. And I remember Ms. Soo—how we resonated over pure math, how she held up photos of past CIE A-Level top scorers and said with a smile, “We can all afford to be a little more ambitious.”
I may not know the experiences of every Year 13 student, nor fully understand the stories of every Harrowvian here. But I am certain of one thing—we have all, in some way, been embraced by the respect and love our Harrow teachers have given us. We have all, at some point, been moved by the feeling of being treated as an end in ourselves, not a means to something else. As Karl Marx once said: “To exchange love for love, trust for trust.”
Over the years at Harrow, I’ve become increasingly “greedy”—not for success, but for the number of ships I want to board. From further math and physics, to minority struggles and education equity. What Harrow has gifted me is the courage to step aboard unfamiliar vessels—as a captain, a jib trimmer, or simply a passenger—and, more importantly, the passion to learn how to steer them. I’m no longer afraid of STEM, or of expressing myself. I’m no longer afraid to step out of my comfort zone—nor to fail. I know that the decision my younger self made four years ago—to leave Inner Mongolia and travel 2,800 kilometers to Haikou—and the choice I made two years ago to return to Harrow from Guangzhou, were the two best decisions of my life.
I often feel that my life resembles the Fibonacci sequence: each new self is formed by the sum of past experiences—knowledge, emotions, mindsets, and love—accumulating into something new yet shaped by everything before. Like a golden spiral, this movement gives shape to a self that is ever-changing yet never detached from its origins. But truly, I carry the shadows of many people within me. I am astonished by how, despite gravitational force being one of the weakest forces among humans in the universe, human connection still finds its way into our lives, forming all kinds of relationships. It’s not that I claim to be rich in life or experience, but I want to say this: thank you—to every beautiful soul who has approached me, slowly or quickly, and spilled a bit of their own light onto me. Because of this, I’ve found strength I didn’t know I had. I’ve learned how to stay positive, how to love, how to reconcile. From the bottom of my heart, I’ve silently wished that my life might be blessed with many more four-year chapters like the one I’ve lived at Harrow.
I used to wonder why graduation speeches always end in a long list of thank-yous—until today. Standing here now, I realize that this gratitude is instinctive and irrepressible. I want to thank my family, my teachers, my friends—and also those who support us behind the scenes: the cheerful canteen ayis, the school bus drivers and teachers, security guards who work through all weather, and iss staff who maintain our campus quietly and diligently.
As Yale President Maurie McInnis once said, we live in a time that called for both conviction and compassion. We must seek ways to recognize our common humanity, and revive the spirit of humanism. Harrow has taught us to continue our journey with humility—to listen when it’s easiest to dismiss, to extend grace when grievance feels warranted, and to defend our ideals while still respecting those who differ from us. In the future, we’ll each assume different roles across every sector of society, but it is this sense of humanity, deeply rooted in our hearts, that will inspire the gentlest—and most revolutionary—actions of all.
Thank you.