Lion’s Head local, Tyler Cameron, Founder & CEO of wrksourcing, delivered this moving commencement speech at the recent Grade 12 graduation ceremony at BPDS. It was too good not to share with our readers.
Let me take you back.
It’s 2002. I’m sitting in Grade 12 math. I am not doing well. I’m not grasping it like I used to when I won the math award in Grade 8 (not a big deal). But this time, it didn’t end up in an award, it ended up in me failing the class — despite my best efforts.
My relationship with school was complicated. I liked gym. I was good at gym. Everything else was negotiable.
But here’s the thing nobody tells you when you’re sitting in class daydreaming about who knows what (when you should be paying attention by the way) – this is just one chapter of your life. You may not have loved all your classes – despite having the amazing teachers here at BPDS. Trust me, I wasn’t a “great” student. On paper I was average at best. But I knew I was creative. I knew I could read a room, sell an idea, and I genuinely loved connecting with people in a way that didn’t show up on any report card.
I just hadn’t found the place where that mattered yet.
Fast forward a few years. I’m 23 years old, sitting in a boardroom in Toronto, managing millions of dollars in advertising budget for Pepsi. Thank God for Excel and my trusty calculator.
The kid who failed Grade 12 math is now responsible for decisions that I may or may not have been ready for. And the whole time I’m sitting there thinking — nobody in this room knows I failed Grade 12 math. And it does not matter one single bit.
For the record, that’s the only class I failed. And I’m actually pretty good with numbers now — so I didn’t just peak in Grade 8.
Now you might be wondering — who is this guy and how did he get from Lion’s Head to a Toronto boardroom?
For those who don’t know my background, I spent my first 18 years right here. My parents Don and Wendy owned the garden centre for 35 years. My brother Justin still lives here. My sister, Kaitlin is a teacher in Kincardine.
My roots go deep here.
But 18-year-old Tyler could not wait to leave — not because I didn’t love this place, but because I was genuinely excited to see what the world had to offer. And that distinction matters. I wasn’t running away from Lion’s Head. I was running toward something.
Some of you will stay here. Some of you are heading off to your next chapter. Both are valid. Both are exciting. Because it’s not about where you go — it’s about what you’re chasing when you get there.
If your path keeps you here — if you build something in this community, raise a family on this Peninsula, or become the person this town calls when something needs doing — that’s not settling. That’s a choice. And it’s a damn good one, as my brother and so many of my friends still call this amazing place home.
The point isn’t where you end up. It’s about following your passion and staying curious about what’s next.
For me, I left here with a great foundation and followed the thing that actually lit me up. Sports. Media. Storytelling.
I went to Mohawk College in Hamilton — which, if you’ve never left the Peninsula, felt about as far away as the moon — and I went all in.
Leaving the Bruce was a big deal. And when I got to Hamilton, surrounded by people from everywhere, I had this moment of — okay, who am I when nobody here already knows me?
Turns out, I was the same person. Which sounds obvious, but it’s actually the most important thing I can tell you.
The best thing this place gave me wasn’t a diploma. It was a foundation. A sense of self that held up when the world got loud and confusing. Small towns do that for you, whether you realize it at the time or not.
I went to Mohawk ready. Not because I had it figured out — I absolutely did not — but because I was genuinely excited about what came next. And that energy is contagious. People notice it. Doors open for you.
My career took me from college straight into the deep end.
I worked at a major advertising agency. Then landed at theScore television network, which was my dream job at the time. I’m going to events, meeting athletes, sitting across from executives at companies like Pepsi, negotiating deals that would have made my Grade 12 math teacher genuinely concerned for everyone involved.
But here’s what I noticed in those rooms.
The people who stood out weren’t always the smartest. They were the ones who could actually connect. Who could read what someone needed, make them feel heard, and build trust fast. My wife actually says that’s my superpower — the ability to genuinely gain people’s trust very quickly.
That’s a small town skill. That’s a Lion’s Head skill.
We grow up knowing everybody. We learn early that your reputation follows you, that how you treat people matters, and that there’s no such thing as a throwaway conversation. Take that into a big city and you have an edge most people spent years trying to develop.
Eventually I stopped working for other people’s dreams and started building my own.
Today I run a company called wrksourcing. We go into founder-led businesses that are growing faster than their operations can handle — and we fix that. We map how they actually work, build better systems, and embed the right people to support their growth. Think of us as the operational backbone for businesses that are scaling but starting to crack under the weight of their own success.
I built it from scratch. No investors. No safety net. Just the skills I gained in this school and the ones I’d spent fifteen years collecting in the corporate world.
And the foundation of all of it — every client, every deal, every system we’ve built — traces back to the same thing. Staying curious. Staying real. And never pretending to be someone I wasn’t, even when the rooms I was in made that feel tempting.
So here’s what I want to leave you with.
You don’t have to have it figured out today. I didn’t. Most of the interesting people I know didn’t.
What you need is a direction. Even a loose one. Something that makes you forget to check the clock because you’re actually paying attention.
Follow the thing that lights you up, even if it doesn’t make sense on paper. Especially if it doesn’t make sense on paper. The most important career advice I ever got wasn’t in a classroom — it was watching people who loved what they did and deciding I wanted that.
Stay curious. Not just about your career — about people, about how the world works, about why things are the way they are. The people who win long-term are the ones who never stopped asking questions.
And when you leave here, take the best of this place with you. The realness. The work ethic. The fact that you grew up somewhere where people actually know each other. That’s not a limitation. That’s a unique life experience not everyone gets the benefit of.
Your small town roots are not the thing you grow out of.
They’re the thing you grow from.
Congratulations, BPDS Class of 2026.
You have no idea what’s coming.
And that is genuinely the best part.
Now go find your thing.
Tyler Cameron
