but in order to see the beauty in the people around us, we must be brave enough to ask, be the one who asks, who listens, and who, through your curiosity, leads to no story untold. Thank you. [Applause] You, Bri Massachusetts. [Applause] I love you too. Thank you, Miss Hughes Johnson, and the Board of Trustees, Dr. Kalen, Mr. Re, Mr. Bowen, members of faculty and staff, friends, family, students, and the class of 2024. [Applause] I love my parents more than anything in the world, and yet I, despite being their son, cannot confidently say that I know them. Yes, I know that their names are Suti and Uum, that their birthdays are on August 2 and April 12th, and that they love me and my older sister just as much as we love them, at least I hope so. But it wasn't until I started my journey at Milton 4 years ago, just as one of my parents had finally returned to their home country, Indonesia, that I began to realize just how little I knew.

my own family. You see, you can spend your entire life with someone, love them with all your heart, think you know them, and still not know their whole story, not truly know them at all. So what then does it mean to know someone? When I first arrived at Milton, I decided that I wanted to have as many friends as possible, except there was one problem. Despite being excited to meet new people, I was a shy, introverted kid with the most horrific buzzcut you've ever seen. It felt like I was entering a community that had already been created. Every time I entered the dining hall, I felt overwhelmed by the sheer number of unfamiliar faces. And every day, if I didn't see anyone I already knew, I would grab a green to-go box and retreat to my dorm to eat alone. The days turned into weeks, and not long after, I found myself aimlessly drifting through the school year. Freshman year went on, and even though I slowly gained friends along the way, I still didn't feel like I knew anyone, at least not in any real

meaningful way. So by my sophomore year, I tried a different approach. I wanted to make people laugh and smile, and maybe this way, I would make more friends. At Beat Nick, I performed songs like Grenade and You Belong with Me in the dining hall. I made stupid jokes about the chicken being so undercooked it was still alive. And for Halloween one year, I dressed up as a hot dog and frolicked around campus, hoping that my funny costume would bring people closer to me. And for most of the year, this approach worked. I suddenly had more friends than ever, and I loved being the person that could make other people laugh and smile. But when sophomore year finally came to an end, I left feeling the same as it did the year before. While I knew more people, I didn't really know anything about them. When I look back on these years, I used to ask myself why it was so hard for me to form those deeper, more meaningful connections. And for the longest time, I thought that maybe it was because I didn't know enough people.

that I wasn't funny enough, but it wasn't until my junior year English class that I had finally found the piece I was missing. During one of our first classes, my English teacher offered to begin class with a checking question. The way it would work is that someone would come up with an easy-to-answer icebreaker, and we'd go around the horseshoe table sharing our response. It was supposed to be a relatively light-hearted question, something like What's your favorite ice cream flavor? But that day, I, without knowing at all how my class would react, posed the question, What are you most afraid of in life? I was met with a deafening silence, and I instantly regretted asking such a question. But when the first person spoke up, followed by the next person, and then the next, my uncertainties quickly faded away. And all it took was a question, one thought-provoking, open-ended question, for my classmates to open up about their fears of being trapped in a 9-to-5 job, the idea of becoming a parent one day, or the thought of growing old.

without anyone to call friend, and for the first time in my high school career, I felt the warmth and joy that came with knowing my classmates, not just as classmates, but as people. People with their own stories, fears, and dreams. Our English class loved the idea of a check-in so much that it became a routine. Every day, my classmates would look to me to generate a check-in question, and for the first 5 to 10 minutes of class, we answered questions like: What's the story behind your name? If every job paid the same, what path would you choose? When was the last time you cried? And by the end, I had learned more about the people in that class in a single year than I had learned about my own parents in 18. So when I visited my parents in Indonesia, I started to ask them questions too. About the choices they made in raising me, about religious beliefs I had simply accepted, about the story of how my mom and dad first met. Before asking, I didn't know that my father grew up in a small farming

Village in Indonesia didn't actually have a last name until he come came to America. That my mother's childhood dream was to become a teacher. Or that I was actually named by my four-year-old sister, whose favorite teacher at the time was Miss Ryan. And so, naturally, B for boy plus Miss Ryan equals Brian. Growing up, I never saw my parents as more than the roles they play for me as Mom and Dad. To my younger self, they were just my parents. Only through asking did I fully begin to uncover the dreams they had to set aside, side the sacrifices they had to make, but also the incredible gifts they gave me by choosing to raise me here in America. As I look at all the people here today, I wonder about all the amazing rich stories you all have to tell and how many of them will go forgotten or untold because nobody thought to ask. The single most important thing I learned during my time here at Milton is how to ask a good question. It's in the way we look people in the eye to remind them that we're

listening it's in the way we pause every time we ask someone, How are you? to invite more than empty one-word responses like good or fine, because to ask someone a question is the greatest gift we can give to a world that is desperate for more empathy, more understanding, and more people willing to look up from their screens and ask, Who are you and what is the story only you can tell? To the class of 2024, we are entering a time in our lives in which our understanding of the people around us is only just beginning to unfold. Soon we will begin to see our parents not just as Mom and Dad, but as actual people. Soon we will begin to see our friends and classmates as the friends that will be by our sides forever. But in order to see the beauty in the people around us, we must be brave enough to ask, be the one who asks, who listens, and who, through your curiosity, leads no story untold. Thank you. [Applause] Get it, BR, get it, get it, hey! [Applause]

Pidato Kelulusan Bryan Sukidi, Peraih Penghargaan Bakat Luar Biasa di AS

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