May 30, 2024
It is now my privilege to address the Class of 2024 on the occasion of your Commencement.
I remember when I sat, as you do now, surrounded by classmates, wearing identical gowns, and waiting to receive our degrees. It is a surreal experience. It’s a moment you’ve been working toward diligently since you entered college. But it is also a transition so momentous and abrupt that it is difficult to believe it is actually taking place. It’s an out-of-body experience that feels like it must be happening to somebody else. Your minds are swirling with emotion as you anticipate, a cruelly short time from now: saying tearful goodbyes to your closest friends, with whom you have spent these precious years; simultaneously sharing joyful reunions with your families, who are bursting with pride and happiness; and then facing that hard, inescapable reality of driving down the road, while your beloved campus recedes in the rearview mirror. It’s also a safe bet you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.
All of which makes it difficult for you to listen to me. Yesterday, Kiersten Barnet, class of ’05, our Baccalaureate speaker, confessed that she cannot recall a word from her own graduation here at W&L because she was preoccupied in that moment by the pressing question of whether her relationship could survive long-distance. I was struck because the day I graduated from college I was distracted by that very same question. My relationship turned out just like hers did, which is to say not well, and I can’t remember anything from Commencement either. So, I realize I am competing for your attention. But I’m going to keep right on talking, and you can let me know at your 10th reunion whether you recall anything I have to say.
I do hope that some of you absorbed the wise advice dispensed by Kiersten Barnet yesterday. In particular, never forget her exhortation to be ready for opportunity, and that is not a passive thing. Most good things in life are serendipitous. They happen when you least expect them. It’s important to have skills, which you do. It’s important to be well prepared, which you are. But the most important thing that you can do always and forever is show up. Put yourself in a position for the action to find you. Because you never know when the game will come your way.
When I was your age, straight out of college, I got hired as an analyst for an energy company. And my first boss is here today. He is now the proud grandfather of a member of the class of ’24 — all good things connect to W&L, eventually. A few weeks into that job, I was trying to get the hang of it, and I found myself working very late on a Friday, until I thought I was the only person in the building. I eventually packed up, I got on the elevator, which had come down from the floor above, and I found myself alone with the CEO. I introduced myself. He said, “It’s nice to meet you, Will. But it looks like we’re not paying you enough.” I was taken aback. I replied, “Oh, no, sir, I feel appropriately compensated.” To which he said, “Well, the wrinkles on that shirt suggest you can’t afford dry cleaning.” It was a very long, awkward ride 16 floors down to the parking garage.
You might think the moral that story is that I would have been better off staying home from work that day. But to the contrary, two very important things came from that chance encounter on the elevator, which only happened because I was in the office after almost everyone else had left. First, the CEO never forgot me. He always thought of me as wrinkled-shirt guy, which wasn’t great. But he also thought of me as the new guy who was willing to work very late on a Friday night in the summer, which turned out to be good. I also learned from that experience that you never know when you are about to make a first impression on someone who could materially influence your prospects. So, always be ready to present yourself in the most positive way.
A year later, I was still working there, making $30,000 a year, which was very good money to my 23-year-old self in 1990. And one day I attended the monthly meeting at which the executives gave status reports to each other on their divisions. They welcomed all employees to sit in, and I always went to listen and learn. I heard a vice president say he needed another person on his team, and he planned to hire an MBA at a starting salary of $60,000. I went back to my office, and I thought about it. I got my courage up, walked down the hall, and I knocked on his door. And the vice president invited me in, and I said, “I don’t have an MBA, but I can do that job, and I’ll do it for $45,000.” He said yes so fast I immediately knew I didn’t ask for enough. But I got myself a promotion and a 50% raise, and now I could afford dry cleaning, and it only happened because I showed up at a meeting that I wasn’t required to attend, I wasn’t expected to attend, and I paid attention to the opportunities that presented themselves.
Kiersten Barnet’s advice applies to all fields of work and to every human endeavor. Make yourself available. Take notice of what needs to be done. Get yourself noticed for helping to do it. And opportunities will appear, serendipitously. Be prepared to seize them. Good things will happen.
I’ve gotten ahead of myself. I’m supposed to give you advice regarding your future at the end of the speech. So, I want to take a step back and, like Martha, remember your arrival at W&L in the fall of 2020.
That was the only other time I’ve had the opportunity to address all of you, together, as a class. It was the evening before Fall Term got underway. You were nervous about the same things that have worried first-year students for generations. Will I get along with my roommate? Can I handle the work? Is the food any good? But the class of 2024 had a few special concerns of your own. How do I look in this mask? Where do I get my Covid test? Will the pandemic ever end?
You had a lot on your mind. And there I was, in a little box on your computer screen, welcoming you to Washington and Lee over Zoom.
I offered your 18-year-old selves an observation, a prediction, a promise, and a plea.
I observed that although 90% of you were in the top 10% of your high school class, 90% of you would not graduate in the top 10% at W&L. A number of you have told me you did not like hearing this. But the final grades are in, and I was right. I was a math major. I also told you it wouldn’t matter, and it doesn’t.
I predicted, to an audience of 450 barely acquainted teenagers who were required by Covid protocols to remain at least 6 feet of distance at all times, that some of you will eventually marry each other. And I stand by it. This morning I also reissue my warning to the parents: Be nice to each other, because you might be sitting next to your future in-laws.
I promised you, students, that I would always keep my cell phone in my pocket, so I could greet you whenever our paths crossed on campus, which has been often. The speaking tradition, simple but powerful, is a special element of our culture, and I encourage everyone to join me in refusing to let technology get in the way of our personal connections.
I pleaded with you to get to know as many of your classmates as possible, and to explore the full breadth of our curriculum. Never again will you be surrounded by such interesting and capable peers, or such knowledgeable and dedicated teachers. I hope you have taken advantage of the extraordinary intellectual and personal diversity that make W&L a rewarding place to live and learn.
I also posed a question, as you embarked on your collegiate journey: I asked, as did Professor Pickett at Convocation this fall, “Why are you here? What do you hope to get out of college? Why did you choose to come to Washington and Lee? Colleges and universities are not interchangeable diploma factories. This place is special. How can you make the most of your opportunity to be here?”
And I suggested that our mission statement is a good place to look for an answer. Some of you have taken my philosophy seminar and, if you did, you’ve got the mission statement inscribed on your soul and you can recite it along with me (it’s only two sentences):
“Washington and Lee University provides a liberal arts education that develops students’ capacity to think freely, critically, and humanely and to conduct themselves with honor, integrity, and civility. Graduates will be prepared for life-long learning, personal achievement, responsible leadership, service to others, and engaged citizenship in a global and diverse society.”
Note that this institution exists for your benefit. The entire university is an incubator devoted to helping students cultivate their potential. When you arrived four years ago, you were eager and anxious teenagers, and we placed you in an environment carefully constructed to be conducive to your intellectual and personal growth. W&L is small, it’s rural, it’s residential, it’s resource intensive. You are surrounded by extraordinary peers, professors, coaches, and staff. The variety and intensity of curricular and extra-curricular activity is astonishing. The incubator never sleeps. I know this because I live in the incubator, and I’m surrounded by Graham-Lees, Gaines, and the Williams School construction site. I hope you appreciate what a rare and remarkable privilege it has been to live in a community that is intentionally and wholeheartedly committed to your flourishing.
Our mission statement has a beautifully simple logic. The first sentence stresses the investment that Washington and Lee makes in you. We provide a liberal arts education that develops your intellect and character. The second sentence stresses what is now expected of you. You have been prepared to learn, to lead, and to serve. You may not have studied leadership or citizenship. But if we’ve done our jobs, and you’ve done your jobs, you are ready to make significant contributions wherever you go, for the benefit of yourselves and your families, but also for the benefit of those who are less fortunate and the communities in which you live. By investing in you, W&L has made a long-term investment in the public good.
What does the world need from you? It is a very long list. Of course, we need all the work that you will do. Your professional endeavors and your volunteer service will be considerable and consequential. But we are in even greater need of the kind of people that you have become.
At Washington and Lee, you have learned to treat each another with respect, to express yourself and your own views with candor, and to carefully consider alternative perspectives. The honor system, as Martha emphasized, has asked you to be trustworthy, and to trust others. The speaking tradition has encouraged you to acknowledge strangers as if they were friends. Liberal arts education has taught you to listen attentively, interpret judiciously, and reason persuasively.
These habits — of intellect and character — are what the world needs. It needs these habits to chip away at mistrust, at partisanship, at polarization, to find and forge more common ground, to foster kindness and decency toward everyone, regardless of our differences and disagreements. And each and every one of you is well prepared to contribute to this monumentally important task. I urge you to embrace it, to set an example, and to lead the way.
Take the habits and character traits that you developed at W&L and change the world, one small encounter at a time.
If that sounds like a big challenge, it will be. But you are well prepared for it, thanks to your time in the incubator.
College is sneaky. You probably thought you were just having fun, at least most of the time. Making friends. Sharing meals. Practicing and competing with your teammates. Singing, dancing, and acting. Breaking it down at Fancy Dress or with Waka Flocka Flame. You guys put me on the Waka Flocka Flame T-shirt, which gave me street credibility with my kids, so thank you for that. You were having fun. But at the same time, when you weren’t looking, you were becoming adults increasingly capable of makingmeaningful differences. And that’s the important business of education. And it’s compatible with fun. Indeed, the effort it takes to accomplish important things is better sustained if you find joy in what you’re doing. You have experienced this at W&L. Rising to the challenge posed by difficult classes, difficult workouts, difficult performances, is easier when you take pleasure in your purpose, and when you surround yourself with others who work, and smile, and laugh right alongside with you. And that’s a lesson that will help you surmount challenges throughout your lives.
When I’m on the golf course, where I’m prone to confront challenges, my ball’s behind a tree, there’s a pond in front of the green, the wind is blowing 20 miles an hour sideways, and I say to myself, “Will, this is an opportunity for greatness.” Try to see the challenges you face as opportunities for greatness. Be grateful that you have those opportunities, and take pride and satisfaction in always giving it your best shot.
I have an actual box of gratitude on my desk. Every week I record the moments that gave me joy on a scrap of paper, which I deposit in the box. Here’s a sample from this Winter:
Week 1 – Students (that’s you) returned to campus – it’s too quiet and lonely without you.
Week 2 – I taught the first class of my philosophy seminar, and the Colonnade was covered in snow.
Week 3 – The students in my seminar came over for dinner, and the Martin Luther King concert was outstanding.
Week 4 – The sports team captains came over for lunch, and the faculty presented their research over pizza.
Week 5 – Mock Convention knocked it out of the park.
And on into this Spring:
The water polo club asked me to referee their scrimmage.
Employees achieving service milestones were celebrated over lunch.
Retiring faculty came over for dinner.
And last week, to cap it off, a student took me fly fishing on the Jackson River.
Apparently, I’m a simple man. I like to eat. And I like spending time with students. Best of all, I like eating with students. I’m grateful for you, and you bring me joy. It’s why I love living and working at Washington and Lee.
And today, even though we love you, we are ejecting you from the incubator. We will always welcome you back. But your college education is complete, and it’s time to go.
450 bright futures is a beautiful thing to behold. You cannot see, much less plan, all that lies ahead of you. Embrace the serendipity but live deliberately, as your classmate Katie Yurechko encouraged you to do. Ask yourself, at every stage of your life: Who am I meant to be? What do I want to achieve? How do I define success? What will bring me satisfaction?
Do the challenging work that gives you joy. Seize the opportunities for greatness. And never forget to be grateful for those opportunities.
I look forward to seeing you at your fifth reunion, at your 10th reunion, and to hearing where life has taken you, and to asking whether you remember anything I’ve said today. But, for now, I’m going to send you on your way with congratulations, pride, and my very best wishes. Thank you.
