‘This Liminal Phase Right Now Matters’: NCHS Class of 2026 Graduates [VIDEO]

Dr. Jonathan Schwartz—an educator for more than 25 years and a member of the New Canaan High School social studies department for the last 10—on Tuesday morning cited a cultural anthropologist’s 1909 term “liminal transformations” for 300-plus students in caps and gowns, and their hundreds of family members and friends in the stands at Dunning Field.

Developed by Arnold Van Gennep, the term represents “the middle stage of significant cultural transformations,” Schwartz said.

For Van Gennep, he said, “important rituals exist in every culture to bridge the liminal phase, as it is also a time of great upheaval and vulnerability for those members of society who are undergoing these transformations.”

“Although Van Gennep focused exclusively on small-scale tribal societies, it’s apparent to me that a high school graduation ceremony perfectly demonstrates what he was driving at,” Schwartz, guest speaker during the NCHS class of 2026 graduation ceremony, said from the podium on a comfortably sunny, breezy day. “You graduates have left the familiar routine of high school behind, but you haven’t yet stepped into what comes next. You are suspended between two worlds, sitting on this field in caps and gowns that make you look less like young adults and more like a secret society of initiates.”

And those new initiates also will experience something unique, with their vulnerabilities and insecurities, Schwartz said: “communitas.” That’s a 1967 idea developed by symbolic anthropologist Victor Turner where there’s a “unique state of being, a flash in time, in which a group of disparate individuals, all about to head off in unique directions and blaze new trails, will, just for one magical moment, be exactly the same,” Schwartz said, an “exceedingly vulnerable,” “achingly ephemeral” and “beautiful moment” that “will be forever etched in their collective memory” and upon which they will “build their future selves.”

“Our liminal phases, this liminal phase right now, matter precisely because there is a chain of events that lead to it, and that it might not have occurred had this community not banded together and done thousands of imperceptible and relatively tiny daily individual tasks that cumulatively allowed the great transformation of which these graduates are now on the cusp,” he said. “This liminal phase right now matters because of the thousands of tiny daily details that brought us here.”

Schwartz told the graduates that he is “in the business of producing scholars rather than students.”

“The difference between the two matters,” he said. 

Schwartz continued: “Students are largely motivated by grades, scholars by ideas. Students can, and do, become scholars. Scholars never go back to being mere students. Graduates of New Canaan High School class of 2026, you are, right now, in this poetic, predictable, muggy, magnificent, liminal phase, formally marking this very transition. You are being acknowledged as scholars and invited to make this transition as meaningful as possible. I know many of you, and with confidence, I can say you are ready to make the world a significantly more interesting place. The late night cramming sessions, football games, missed family dinners, coffee runs, senior skip day, pretending to work in the library, physics-defying parking options, the advanced mathematics required for calculating late to class, but not too late, based on dozens of different teacher reactions, the proms, jalopies dotting the lawn during safe-driving week, morning announcements, weekly broadcasts, puppies in the building because pretending to be stressed has its privileges. The list is practically endless.”

Each graduate has their own version of that list, Schwartz said.

“And yet, owing to communitas, today, right now, collectively, you, approximately 313 New Canaan High School graduates, despite all the individual variation, are forging an eternal and unbreakable bond,” he said. “You are, on this day, in this moment, one and the same.”

Schwartz concluded: “For you, soon-to-be graduates, it means that today, the hierarchy collapses. There are no social tiers. Today, you are all simultaneously the straight-A valedictorian and the student who forgot there was a midterm. You were all-star players on the field, winning the Turkey Bowl, and you were all student spectators freezing in the stands. You are one. Tomorrow you will start divergent paths again. But today, right now, you are a newly established community. These moments are increasingly rare in our polarized times. I would humbly request that you all embrace your unity, your equality, your humanity. We all spend most of our lives spinning off in directions away from our roots, forging our own paths. That is necessary, powerful, and inspiring. But, as communitas dictates, it is only possible because of brief points in time when we are all the same. This is yours, 2026 graduates of New Canaan High School. It is yours forever. It will be remembered, misremembered, anguished over, laughed about, and profoundly missed someday. But, now, right now, it is clear and perfect and identical for all of you. We look forward to what you do next, but we cherish what you did here. You should, too.”

The stirring speech anchored a memorable morning at Dunning. The ceremony featured a welcome from Kristi Carriero, administrator for the class of 2026, “The Star-Spangled Banner” performed by the NCHS Clarinet Ensemble, Pledge of Allegiance led by student coalition president Jordan Alexander, “An Irish Blessing” performed by the NCHS Madrigals and comments from First Selectman Dionna Carlson, NCHS Principal Bill Egan and Superintendent of Schools Dr. Bryan Luizzi, and “Moments of Reflection” from graduating seniors Anne Vertin, Whitaker O’Reilly and Larkin Celiberti.

During his remarks, Egan honored three NCHS educators who are retiring—Leo Flicks (orchestra teacher), Cindy Rivera (director of counseling) and Priscilla Schulz (physical education teacher and coach).

“Their dedication and artistry have shaped the very soul of NCHS,” Egan said.

He continued: “Leo Ficks, our beloved orchestra teacher, is retiring after years of filling our halls with harmony. Leo didn’t just teach notes on the page; he taught our students to listen to one another and to find beauty in collective effort. His talent, passion for music, and unwavering belief in his students’ potential have left a symphonic legacy that will resonate throughout this community for generations. Cindy Rivera, our director of counseling, is also beginning a new chapter. Cindy has been a steady compass for so many families, navigating the complexities of high school with grace, wisdom, and an open door to students, parents, and staff. Her leadership has ensured that our students weren’t just successful, but seen and supported. Her commitment to the well-being of every student has been the heartbeat of our guidance department. For nearly five decades, Priscilla Schulz has been a cornerstone of the New Canaan High School community, leaving an indelible mark as a dedicated teacher, passionate coach, student council leader, and, above all, a deeply kind and decent person. Throughout her career, Priscilla has poured her heart into fostering a culture of teamwork, inclusivity, and mutual support both on and off the field. Her remarkable tenure is defined not just by the programs she championed but by the profound personal impact she made daily. As she steps into retirement, the entire NCHS and New Canaan community feels the weight of losing an extraordinary mentor and a cherished friend whose legacy of giving back will inspire generations to come.” 

Following the awarding of diplomas, the students gathered in the parking lot alongside Dunning, as is tradition, to greet each other and their families.

Here are highlights from more speeches delivered at graduation:

• Carlson: “You graduate at a remarkable moment in history. In just two and a half weeks, our nation will celebrate the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776, following the action of the Second Continental Congress gathered in Philadelphia. A quarter of a millennium has passed since a group of courageous individuals declared that free people could govern themselves and shape their own future. This year is also special, much closer to home. We celebrate the 225th anniversary of the incorporation of the town of New Canaan. For more than two centuries, generations of residents have built, strengthened, and improved this community. Think about how much has changed over those years. The United States has grown from 13 states along the Atlantic coast into the most dynamic nation in the world. New Canaan has evolved from a small rural settlement into a thriving community known for its schools, civic engagement, and quality of life. Yet despite all that change, something important has remained the same. The people of New Canaan have always shared a commitment to working together to make this town better than they found it. Each generation has accepted the responsibility of continuous improvement—improving our schools, our public spaces, our institutions, and the opportunities available to those who follow. Today, that responsibility passes to you. You are the future leaders of this community, this country, and this world. The residents of New Canaan have invested in you year after year. They have willingly contributed their time, talent, and treasure to ensure that students graduating from New Canaan High School have the tools necessary to solve the next great challenges our community and nation will face. We do so gladly. But I ask you not to take those gifts for granted. Take them with you wherever life leads next. Leave every place you go a little better than when you arrived. Do it through your kindness to others. Do it by helping those who are less fortunate. Do it by creating something that improves your campus, your workplace, your community, or even the world.”
• 

  Dr. Bryan Luizzi speaks during NCHS graduation, June 16, 2026 at Dunning Field. Credit: Michael Dnan

  Luizzi: “It is an honor and a privilege to lend my voice to the many who are congratulating you today on this wonderful achievement. You have worked hard. You have learned and experienced an extraordinary amount. And you have done all of the right things to prepare yourselves for what comes next. There will undoubtedly be times in the months and years ahead when you question whether you have what it takes. Trust me: you do. And when this doubt creeps in, always remember once a Ram, always a Ram. You have impressed all of us through the years — academically, artistically, athletically, and most importantly, personally. We are immensely proud of all that you have accomplished, and we are even more proud of the outstanding people you have become. We are so very proud of you. Congratulations — and onward.”

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  Anne Vertin speaks during NCHS graduation, June 16, 2026 at Dunning Field. Credit: Michael Dnan

  Vertin: “We are sitting among future artists, surgeons and yes, maybe even some superheroes, costumes we once donned as excited kids, ready to wreak havoc on South Avenue each Halloween. We are about to embark on a journey that could very well end with us in a grown-up version of those costumes we once wore. So with our younger selves in mind, I want to take you all on a short trip back to, yes, middle school. I think that we can all remember and appreciate the competitiveness that engulfed middle school recess. While many of our memories from this time likely revolve around an especially intense basketball game or four-square match, my most memorable recess? It involved a fence. Long story short, a ball was catapulted over said fence, and I volunteered to retrieve it. Quick mental math told me that the fence was high and therefore not worth clambering over for a ball. This was the decision my parents hoped I would’ve made. In true middle school fashion–I pushed that reasoning aside and, with all eyes on me, reminded myself that I, too, am tall. Sorry, mom, decision made. In a matter of seconds, I learned two very important lessons: One: It’s possible to–simply–walk around the fence at the Saxe courts and two? It really is that easy to break your arm. While this was five years ago and probably not the greatest example of my judgment, I believe that the moral of this story rings true as we, the class of 2026, stand before 306 unique new beginnings: consider the landing before you leap.”

• 

  Whitaker O’Reilly speaks during NCHS graduation, June 16, 2026 at Dunning Field. Credit: Michael Dnan

  O’Reilly: “The ‘off and away’ policy represents something much greater than the funny memories it left us with, or even the changes it forced us to make. As the policy became the new normal, the familiar, involuntary reflex of reaching into our pockets when the bell rang, after leaving class, or just walking through the halls, left us in an unfamiliar situation: the pocket was empty. The immediate comfort was no longer there when we reached for our phones. But something else filled that space. People looked up. Hallways got louder. Conversations happened that probably never would have if everyone had their head down staring at a screen. We adapted, and in doing so, we built something better than what we had before. Reflecting on this, a parallel can be drawn between the ‘off and away’ policy and life. Up until now, NCHS, this community, our friends, teachers, and staff have been our safety net when we faced a challenge or problem. As we move on, we won’t have that anymore. Each of us is facing our very own ‘off and away’ policy, not regarding our cell phones, but rather our comfort zones. Next year will throw things at us that we’ve genuinely never dealt with before. Making friends from scratch when you don’t know a single person in the room. Figuring out what to do when you’re sick and your parents aren’t right down the hall. Navigating situations where the familiar faces and places that always made things easier simply aren’t there. The temptation will be to look back, to reach for that safety net, for the comfortable life that we’ve known for so long. To the class of 2026: When those moments come, and they will, don’t reach for the phone that isn’t there. Remember what happened when we stopped looking down at our screens. We looked up, we found each other, and we figured it out. In every new room, every unfamiliar situation, and every moment that feels bigger than we’re ready for, look up, and face what’s in front of you, exactly as we learned to do in these halls.”

• 

  Larkin Celiberti speaks during NCHS graduation, June 16, 2026 at Dunning Field. Credit: Michael Dnan

  Celiberti: “Before I begin, I have a confession to make, one that I’m sure many of you sitting here can relate to: I don’t respond to all the Instagram reels my mom sends me. But hear me out, because it’s not entirely my fault. First, my phone is supposed to be ‘off and away,’ right, Mr. Egan? And second, sometimes the reels are funny — and sometimes not so much. And third, I just don’t have the heart to tell her that the dancing bear is AI. But not too long ago, buried between about seventeen sentimental graduation videos that probably had her shedding a tear or two, she sent me one I actually watched. The reel imagined every version of yourself sitting around a dinner table. Every school year of your life was there, talking about what mattered most to them at the time. The little worries. The big dreams. The phases you’d forgotten about, and the ones you’d rather just forget. And at the very end of the table sat the oldest version of yourself, listening to all the younger ones talk. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I decided to try it myself: If every version of me sat around a table together, I imagined it went something a little like this: 8th grade was naive, full of expectations for what high school had to offer. Tenth grade laughed at the decisions 9th grade made, while 1st grade was still trying to learn how to make her own. Second grade loved the color green and tried to talk about it with 7th grade, but she was busy trying to figure out how to fit in and stand out at the same time. Third grade wouldn’t stop talking about becoming a professional soccer player. And if anybody was curious, that was never really in the cards. Just don’t tell her that. Fifth grade talked about foursquare and cafeteria cookies to 6th grade, who asked when things would finally go back to normal. Fourth grade was kind of in the corner alone, starting to figure out who she really wanted to be. Eleventh grade was excited and terrified to make decisions about what came next. They all talked while I sat and watched. Then I noticed kindergarten sitting at the other end of the table. She looked all the way across to see me, Twelfth grade, dressed in a cap and gown. I wondered if she recognized me. I’ve grown a lot taller. I don’t wear headbands and bows anymore. And I’ve definitely downgraded my shoe game from my light-up Sketchers. I’m positive that I didn’t turn out exactly how she thought I would. But I think kindergarten still saw someone who works hard, with friends and family she loves. Someone with goals she cares about and stories she’s excited to tell. She looked at me from across the table, proudly. But here’s the thing: She wasn’t proud of me because of where I ended up. She didn’t know what college I’d attend, what grades I’d get, what awards I’d win, or what mistakes I’d make. She just believed in me. So somewhere between watching that reel and imagining all thirteen versions of myself sitting around that table, I realized something: We’re willing to give our younger selves a kind of grace that we almost never give ourselves.”