Something I believe many Berkeley High School students don’t realize, or maybe just don’t talk about, is how unique our school is when compared to high schools around the nation. It is my belief that BHS imbues its students with a certain je ne sais quoi that leads us, on average, to enter the adult world with a greater level of preparedness, ingenuity, and tenacity than even kids from larger or wealthier high schools. Today, I’m going to do my best to “sais quoi:” what is the X factor at BHS that produces alumni like Bobby Seale, Andy Samberg, Philip K. Dick, Daveed Diggs, Ursula K. Le Guin, an endless list of professional athletes, at least three Bay Area mayors, and musicians in bands like the Grateful Dead, Tower of Power, and Operation Ivy (side note: if you have never looked through the Wikipedia page “List of Berkeley High School people,” you really ought to)?
An essential component in shaping BHS’ unique culture is its place within Berkeley Unified School District and Berkeley at large. For decades, especially in the 1910s and later in the 1960s, Berkeley was a city in which smart, worldly people who were less bound by tradition congregated to further their unique academic, counter cultural, political, and artistic pursuits. Over time, those people had children, who had children, who were mostly funneled through Berkeley’s only public high school. Berkeley’s counter cultural history is in the literal DNA of BHS students, whose protests enjoy a relative lack of administrative censorship, further contributing to a lively, passionate, politically active student body.
It’s not difficult to find evidence of BHS’s long-standing interest in and respect for diversity. A recent conversation with my dad, another BHS alumnus, revealed we’d both thought that “Olla Podrida” was a relatively new name for the BHS yearbook, perhaps born out of Berkeley’s unique political climate of the 60s and 70s. A quick look at the BHS yearbook archives actually shows that our yearbook has been named after a rich, mixed Spanish stew — meant as a literal nod to the Berkeley “melting pot” — since at least 1896. When it comes to diversity, BHS has a very long history of walking the walk. It was the first public school in the nation to establish an African American Studies department. It was closely involved in protests against the Vietnam War, South African Apartheid, and development at People’s Park. In 1971, five years before California decriminalized homosexuality, BHS students elected a gay Black man to be Homecoming Queen. By no means is our school perfect in this regard — BHS still suffers from an appalling racial achievement gap, exacerbated by the small school system originally designed to close it — but there’s something to be noted and even admired about the cosmopolitanism and genuine interest in the “other” that defines BHS students.
I’ve got about 100 words left, and I’d like to use them to express my gratitude to the community that has defined my life for the past four years. I am the fourth person in my immediate family to graduate from BHS. The first was my paternal grandmother, a Polish-Jewish refugee who arrived in Berkeley at the age of 14 with almost nothing. I’m very proud to have attended this school that has intermittently taught my family over the past six decades and given us the independence, critical thinking, and fighting spirit necessary to adult success. To the class of 2026, I wish you the best of luck in whatever is next — and don’t forget everyone who helped you get to where you are today.