EVHS Class of 2026 Graduates Embrace Kindness and Resilience

The air inside the gymnasium was thick with the kind of nervous energy that usually precedes a car crash or a championship point. It was Saturday. The tassels had been turned. The Class of 2026, all 199 of them, stood ready to step off the stage and into a world that didn’t care about their GPA.

Here’s the thing though: we tend to treat commencement like a finish line. We frame it as the moment the hard work stops and the real living begins. But looking at the speeches delivered by Ella Weisberger, Iris Sheldon, and Dan Dussault, it’s clear that for these kids, the diploma is just a receipt for a transaction that’s still ongoing. The education isn’t over. It’s just changing venues.

The EVHS Concert Band kicked things off with “Pomp and Circumstance,” a piece of music so overplayed it risks losing all meaning, until you remember it’s being played for these specific kids. The Eagle Valley Singers hit the high notes on the national anthem and Kelly Clarkson’s “Breakaway,” while the Senior Musicians offered a rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” that actually landed. It was flawless. It was polished. And it was exactly what a community needs when it wants to feel good about itself.

Weisberger, the valedictorian, didn’t talk about college rankings or job prospects. She talked about kindness. She quoted Maya Angelou, urging the class to “astonish a mean world with acts of kindness.” It’s a nice sentiment, sure, but it’s also a challenge. Because if you live here in Eagle County, you know the world can feel pretty mean when the snow piles up and the traffic backs up on I-70. Weisberger wanted them to build relationships that matter, not just relationships that look good on LinkedIn.

Then there was Sheldon, the salutatorian. She didn’t just give a speech; she ran a survey for her speech and debate team to find out what “EVHS legacy” actually means to the kids. The answers weren’t about prestige. They were about respect. About being yourself. About making connections that stick. It’s easy to forget that high school is a social ecosystem, not just an academic factory. Sheldon noted that becoming an alumnus means taking that community focus and applying it to “bigger environments.” That’s a tall order for eighteen-year-olds, but it’s a necessary one.

Dan Dussault, the social studies teacher chosen to deliver the faculty address, cut through the sentimentality with a dose of reality. He told them not to fear failure. “Life is filled with hills and valleys,” he said. It’s a cliché, but he meant it. He warned them that the fun moments in their twenties and thirties will be interspersed with struggles, and the key is not giving up on yourself when things don’t go your way. It’s simple advice. It’s also the hardest thing to follow.

Principal Thomas LaFramboise added a personal touch that grounded the whole event in the physical reality of being human. He admitted that despite being “pretty healthy throughout his life,” he’d had three surgeries this semester — one planned, two unplanned. He spent almost 20 days in the hospital. Two former students were there as medical students, one even in the operating room with him. It was a reminder that you can leave the valley, become a doctor, and still be connected to the place that shaped you.

The ceremony ended, the music faded, and the graduates walked out. They weren’t just leaving a school. They were carrying a specific set of values — kindness, resilience, community, into a world that needs them more than we realize. The tassels are on the right. The real work starts now.