Among the 504 seniors at Sunday’s �ֲ���ý Commencement will be these 13, each of whom recently shared what they’ll miss most about �ֲ���ý, from professors attending their theater shows to unexpected joy found in Commons, while offering advice to the incoming Class of 2029.

In this collection of candid reflections (“Try everything — and then pick what makes you smile”), paired with striking and heartfelt photography by Phyllis Graber Jensen, the spirit of the �ֲ���ý Class of 2025 comes alive.

Alexandra Long

A mathematics major from Newtown, Pa., Long played varsity basketball and was an internship peer advisor with Purposeful Work, with academic interests in the intersections of data science and storytelling. 

On the heart of the �ֲ���ý experience:
“The thing I’m going to miss most about �ֲ���ý is the community. In the spaces I’ve worked, played sports, and learned supportive people were everywhere.”

On values lived out:
“Community has always been my number one value, and that’s a huge reason I came to �ֲ���ý. I’ve been able to live that out in the choices I’ve made and the relationships I’ve built.”

On advice to new students:
“Extend yourself to make meaningful and authentic relationships — they will last. People are the most important.”

Izzy Beck

A politics major from Montclair, N.J., Beck was a Purposeful Work peer advisor, coxswain on the men’s varsity rowing team, summer Admission intern, and completed her honors thesis investigating the development of the unitary executive theory in contemporary American politics. 

On what she’ll miss most:
“What I’ll miss the most about �ֲ���ý is the proximity I have to professors who are at the tops of their fields and excited to share wisdom with their students.”

On the �ֲ���ý vibe:
“�ֲ���ý students are interested in and enthusiastic about the many things they do.”

On academic advice:
“Take one random class each semester that just sounds interesting. You might uncover a passion you didn’t know you had.”

Emma Gay

A double major in anthropology and classical and medieval studies from Herndon, Va., Gay was president of the ski club, a member of the �ֲ���ý orchestra, and was an Admission senior fellow.

On what she’ll miss most about �ֲ���ý:

“In short, the people. I have been lucky enough to meet some of the most amazing people across campus that have helped me become the person I am today, and I’m going to miss all the smiling faces and joy that people spread around campus.”

On unequivocal support:

“From the faculty to staff to students, I have been able to succeed in all aspects of my life because of the support I had, and will continue to have after �ֲ���ý. These people, who have been with me through so many ups and downs, have taught me so much, and I will forever be grateful.”

On advice for incoming students:

“Take advantage of the offerings to get to know your fellow classmates — but don’t be afraid to say ‘no’ and take time for yourself during a really crazy transition period when it can become very overwhelming.”

Caroline Bibbens

A politics major from Claremont, Calif., Bibbens was an Admission senior fellow and a volunteer at Lewiston public schools.

On building lasting friendships:
“From day one, �ֲ���ý helped me feel socially comfortable. My first-year roommate is still my best friend, and I met five more on my AESOP trip who are still my closest friends today.”

On what she’ll miss most:
“It really feels like a second home. I’ll miss walking around campus and seeing the faces of all the people I’ve built such close friendships with.”

On finding community far from home:
“Coming from so far away, I was nervous at first, but �ֲ���ý is such a supportive and welcoming place. The friendships I’ve made here have meant everything.”

Kendall Jones

A double major in biochemistry and theater from Plymouth, N.H., Jones worked as a stage manager (including carpentry work) for many �ֲ���ý plays, also handling social media for the theater and dance department, and was an organic chemistry teaching assistant and summer Admission intern.

On professors who show up — literally:
“Almost all of my professors have come to my theater shows. My biochemistry professors know I’m in theater, and all my theater professors know I’m in biochemistry. They’re like, ‘Are you surviving biochemistry?’ You get hands-on learning — and a friend for life.”

On what she’ll miss most:
“I’m going to miss walking across the Quad and waving to everyone — even the people you just skateboard past every day. And I’ll miss my professors. They were such a big part of my time here.”

On how to make the most of �ֲ���ý:
“Try everything — and then pick a few things that really make you happy and smile. It makes the whole experience feel so much more full.”

Max Good

A double major in economics and Hispanic studies from Shaker Heights, Ohio, Good was a men’s squash captain, a member of the entrepreneurship club Bobcat Ventures, and a member of the Jewish Student Union.

On time well spent:
“I’ll miss walking into Commons intending to grab a quick bite but instead staying for hours chatting with friends until the next meal.”

On what Commons represents:
“It’s a space that brings together all kinds of �ֲ���ýies who pursue a plethora of passions.”

On everyday joy:
“At �ֲ���ý I get to hang out with friends every day for no purpose other than enjoying each other’s company.”

Maddie Kemp

A double major in politics and in art and visual culture from Bethesda, Md., Kemp is one of the �ֲ���ý rowing captains, regularly contributed to �ֲ���ý theater with her poster designs, and was a collections intern for the �ֲ���ý College Museum of Art.

On what she’ll miss most:
“The most important thing that’s prepared me to leave �ֲ���ý — and that I’ll miss the most — is the community of people I have. It’s a really wonderful group that I know I can go to for anything.”

On being ready for the world:
“I feel really well prepared to interact in a larger global community because I’ve spent so much time working in these smaller families, essentially.”

On advice to incoming students:
“You’re more prepared than you think. There are challenges beyond your wildest imagination — and you’re totally ready to take them on.”

Luke Dai

A double major in economics and psychology from West Hartford, Conn., Dai was a member of the varsity cross country and track teams, an Admission senior fellow, and a Purposeful Work peer advisor, and he interned with the Maine Immigrants’ Rights Coalition.

On the meaning of place and memory:
“I’ll miss the Russell Street track. When I think about my time at �ֲ���ý, I think about my experiences with my teammates. We’ve put a significant amount of work on this track, and it means a lot to me.”

On belonging and shared purpose:
“It gave me a sense of community and belonging. My coach always told us, ‘Run for each other, not just for yourself,’ and I really embodied that. My fondest memories were just competing with my friends and just going to practice with them every day. That’s why this track means a lot to me.”

On how athletics shaped him:
“Being a student-athlete at �ֲ���ý taught me discipline, time management, and motivation. It allowed me to be part of a greater purpose than just myself.”

David Nimura

A psychology major from New York City, Nimura was an Admission tour guide, a member of the men’s Ultimate team, and an Outing Club member who led the front country trip program while also officiating and coaching youth sports in Lewiston.

On what he’ll carry forward:
“I’ve really grown as a person, a student, and a caring individual. �ֲ���ý has prepared me to step into something new and has given me friendships and mentors I’ll cherish forever.”

On the little things that matter:
“You always feel seen at �ֲ���ý — a high five, a hug, a wave. Even if you don’t know someone well, they still acknowledge you. That’s something I’ll never forget.”

On the magic of the everyday:
“You’re never going to have the same day twice at �ֲ���ý. There’s always something unplanned, something surprising, and that’s where new connections are made. Currently standing by the Puddle in my hammock on a sunny day — it’s moments like that when you really understand how special �ֲ���ý is.”

Amanda Zerbib

A psychology major from Larchmont, N.Y., Zerbib was a varsity field hockey player, a Purposeful Work peer advisor, an Admission senior fellow, and a volunteer in Lewiston schools.

On community:
“I think what I’m going to miss most about �ֲ���ý is the genuine small-scale community. It’s hard to replicate once you graduate. �ֲ���ý has done a really great job at creating a genuine community: very safe, warm, and tight-knit.”

On learning and faculty:
“It’s such a unique opportunity to be surrounded by so many intellectual and generous people. I’m going to miss getting to choose from incredible classes and professors who truly care.”

On transformation and discovery:
“There’s so much I didn’t even realize �ֲ���ý was doing around me until senior year. Once you start paying attention, it can lead you onto a whole path of amazing things.”

Nora Fox

A philosophy major from Minneapolis, Minn., Fox was a Purposeful Work peer advisor, an editor for The �ֲ���ý Student, and a philosophy teaching assistant who completed an honors thesis on protecting human dignity and meaningful work from the ethical risks of AI in the workplace.

On faculty connection:
“I’m going to miss my advisor, [Professor of Philosophy] David Cummiskey, a lot. He’s been really instrumental in shaping my �ֲ���ý career. We met every week for my thesis — he always made sure I was understanding the material and learning well.”

On exploring the liberal arts:
“I was on the rowing team for a little. I joined Ultimate. I took classes from a bunch of different departments — and then I finally kind of homed in. You never know what connections you’ll make or what path you’ll find. �ֲ���ý is great at that.”

On work, purpose, and friendship:
“I’m going to miss my coworkers at Purposeful Work, helping other students, and of course, my friends. I just love coming home and having them as support.”

Aneeza Ahmad

A double major in environmental studies and philosophy from Sharon, Mass., Ahmad was a Purposeful Work peer advisor, a leader of the Muslim Student Association, and a violinist in the Small Ensembles Club, and she completed an honors thesis on the concept of a ‘good farmer’ in Maine by centering Wabanaki, white, and Somali Bantu farming perspectives.

On a caring campus:

“At �ֲ���ý, you are surrounded by people who care deeply about you and your success, and you are gifted with the beauty and surprises of Maine’s stunning landscape. You feel, with unwavering certainty, that you are home. That is what I will miss the most.”

On taking a chance:

“Try out that new sport or club, take that fun class outside of your major, have lunch with your professor, even if all of these things make you nervous.”

On the freedom of college life: 

“You are awarded the freedom and support to explore your intellectual and personal curiosities as far as you are willing to chase them.”

Danny Zuniga Zarat

A double major in art and visual culture and in Latin American and Latinx studies from Houston, Texas, Zuniga Zarat exhibited his artwork at this year’s Senior Thesis Exhibition, presenting work in charcoal, performance, and video.

On friendships that became family:
“Some friends became family along the way, and now that we’re stepping into adulthood, that’s going to be the hardest part: from seeing each other every day, to suddenly living our own lives.”

On following the heart through the liberal arts:
“Make use of the liberal arts. Take dance or theater or whatever calls to you. When you’re a senior, you’ll look back and say, ‘I did it because it’s what my heart desired.’”

On what he’ll miss most:
“I’ll miss the community I’ve created. Now that we’re stepping into adulthood, leaving that behind will be tough — but I know we’ll all manage somehow.”

This immersive photographic display captures �ֲ���ý’ distinctive Baccalaureate Service. Far from serious or somber, it is a “celebration that is particular to each graduating class,” said President Garry W. Jenkins.

Produced by �ֲ���ý Communications and Marketing with photography by Phyllis Graber Jensen and text by Jay Burns.

With a bonhomie well-suited to the occasion, with sharp wit that made topical points, and with empathetic insight into the human experience, Dr. Nirav Shah, director of the Maine Center for Disease Control, delivered the Commencement Address at �ֲ���ý College on May 29, 2022.

I feel like we should start a day of celebration by doing something celebratory, which is…taking a selfie. If I could ask everyone to stand up a second and stretch, and while we’re doing that, I’m going to cue up my phone to take the �ֲ���ý College Commencement selfie. OK, let’s do that.

You all looked great. I’m going to put that on Twitter later; if you don’t want to be on Twitter let me know now. I’ll blur out your face.

Thank you, President Spencer. It is an honor to be a part of �ֲ���ý’ 156th Commencement and join you, the faculty, staff, parents, and the random old people who come to these things, as we celebrate the accomplishments of the Class of 2022.

Especially this year — the first “normal” Commencement ceremony since 2019. I don’t know what happened during those intervening years. Some guy must have suggested that you change things around. What a jerk!

I am also grateful that you and the Board of Trustees have chosen to award me with a Doctor of Science degree. That’s extremely meaningful,and I’m very excited to start putting that to use.

It’s also such a pleasure to share the stage today with other �ֲ���ý honorands, whom you just heard about.

Graduates, none of you will remember this speech. Which, frankly, takes a lot of pressure off of me. 

We all like to think we got here on our own. But in reality, none of us gets to where we are on our own. When I graduated from college, I thought I had it all figured out. I was independent. I was a one-man wolf pack. But the truth is, I was basically a house cat — completely dependent on others, yet fully convinced of my own independence. 

We all have someone who helped us along the way, so I want to take a moment to recognize the parents and family members of the graduates who are here today.

Just remember: If you like what I have to say today, my name is “Nirav Shah.” If you don’t like what I have to say, just remember that my name is “Sanjay Gupta.”

Graduates, I ask that you also thank them for supporting you for the last four years. And also to remember that commencements are like weddings: they go on for a long time but they are pretty much for your family.

Many parents in the audience – especially if they are not residents of Maine – are looking at me right now and wondering the same thing. Who is this guy? Why is he here? Was the travel budget for Commencement speakers cut? The best they could do is a guy from down the street?

Just remember: If you like what I have to say today, my name is “Nirav Shah.” If you don’t like what I have to say, just remember that my name is “Sanjay Gupta.”

Many months ago, when President Spencer asked me to deliver this year’s Commencement Address, I pledged that I would take the honor seriously and commit to the careful craft of writing a speech in the same manner that many of that many of you, the graduates, committed to your senior thesis or capstone project. 

So last night, after downing a bunch of Red Bulls and literally reaching the end of Twitter, I started writing.

There is an uncanny correlation between speaking at the �ֲ���ý Commencement and then dying 30 to 50 years later. I need to have an epidemiologist at the Maine CDC look at this. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the pandemic, it is that correlation always equals causation. 

I looked at the list of prior �ֲ���ý Commencement speakers. Coretta Scott King, may she rest in peace; former Maine Sen. Margaret Chase Smith, may she RIP; anti-apartheid leader Bishop Desmond Tutu, may he RIP; renowned physicist Freeman Dyson, may he RIP; civil rights icon, the Rep. John Lewis, may he RIP.

When I looked at that list, my first thought was, “Man, why do all the preceding �ֲ���ý Commencement speakers end up dead?” What is up with that? There is an uncanny correlation between speaking at the �ֲ���ý Commencement and then dying 30 to 50 years later.

I need to have an epidemiologist at the Maine CDC look at this. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the pandemic, it is that correlation always equals causation. 

It’s meaningful being here today. It was three years ago, almost to the day, that my father died. He had a progressive illness, so his death, while painful, was not unexpected.

I think that he would have liked Maine. The mountains, the ocean, the solitude. One of my regrets is that he never got to see Maine. And he never got to know the Maine that my family and I have come to know, to love. 

He would have enjoyed being here today, too, seeing all of you graduate. Hearing me speak with you. It would have made him proud. 

Just like many of you, my dad came a long way. He went from picking mangoes in rural India to medical school. When he came to the U.S. in the 1970s, he worked as a busboy at the Gold Coin restaurant in Chicago, while he studied for his exams.

On the day he passed his exams, he walked in to work and sat down at a table. His boss barked at him and asked why he wasn’t working. My dad replied, proudly, that he was a doctor now and he wanted a cup of coffee. 

One of my life’s privileges was to spend the last five months of his life with him and my mother down in Houston, Texas. One day, while driving back from a medical appointment, my dad and I were stuck in traffic.

Above us was a burned out, old railway bridge over the interstate. And on that bridge, there was graffiti. It wasn’t just everyday graffiti. It was graffiti with meaning. There, on the rusted metal, someone had spray painted two words. 

The two words were elegant in their simplicity, compelling in their directness, and poetic in their brevity. Two words that struck me and have stuck with me and that I’ve spent the last three years thinking about. 

Be Someone. Be…Someone.

That’s it. Two words that capture how my dad himself lived his life. How I try to live my life. And how, today, I’d like to urge you how to live your lives.

Like any good poetry, as Ms. Giovanni can tell us, the phrase admits many interpretations. Are you supposed to be someone? Or to be someone?

Today I offer you three ways that my father exemplified those words. Through humility, through humanity, and through humor.

Let’s start with humility, which is at the heart of Being Someone.

For me, humility comes down to saying the three hardest words in the English language: “I don’t know.”

But in the face of a global pandemic, no one has a monopoly on knowledge or expertise. And yet so many are reluctant to say that they don’t know the answer to something. Instead, they just talk. 

I used to think that being intelligent, being someone, involved having all the answers. Not just some of the answers. But all the answers. This had a few implications: It led me to think that intelligence came from accumulating the largest warehouse of knowledge. Of minutiae, of trivia.

For me, being smart — being someone — was like having the only pin at a balloon party. And achievement was walking around popping everyone else’s balloons. 

Frankly, this approach led me to being tremendously unlikeable. I really should have changed my middle name to, “Well, Actually.”

But in the face of a global pandemic, no one has a monopoly on knowledge or expertise. And yet so many are reluctant to say that they don’t know the answer to something. Instead, they just talk. 

Please, graduates, don’t do that. If someone asks you what time it is, do not tell them how to build a clock. If you don’t know what time it is, just tell them that.

The second quality of Being Someone that my father exemplified was humanity.

I always marveled at my father’s ability to communicate with people who had an entirely different worldview from him. Rather than dismissing those who asked him skeptical questions, he treated them with humanity.

COVID has brought the challenges of misinformation to the forefront. And when we think about things like life-saving vaccines, the stakes are literally life and death.

But here’s the problem: We often treat skeptics like a high school debater would. We rattle off a litany of reasons why they are wrong, trying to pop as many balloons as possible with our pin. Thing is, in the history of recorded thought, not a single mind has ever been changed via that approach.

Even worse, we sometimes condescend those who question whether COVID-19 vaccines are effective. We treat those with different beliefs as not just incorrect, but as ignorant. And we wrongly dehumanize them, or anyone who doesn’t see the world our way.

Please, graduates, don’t do that.

I know that vaccines work because I am part of a “chain of trust” with the people who have concluded so:.

I’ve been asked numerous times how I know that the COVID vaccines are effective? After all, I didn’t perform the studies myself. So how can I know that the vaccines are doing their job?

Rather than overwhelming the skeptic with a bunch of journal articles or dismissing them outright, I am honest with them. I know that vaccines work because I am part of a “chain of trust” with the people who have concluded so: scientists, physicians, statisticians. I trust the ultimate conclusion because I trust each of the links in the chain.

Skeptics are often part of a different chain of trust, a chain whose links comprise lived experiences and relationships, not necessarily data in scientific journals. They are susceptible to misinformation because they don’t belong to the same chain of trust that scientists, that many of us do.

So what to do? First, do not dehumanize those who disagree. Rather, recognize that their skepticism may stem from being part of a different chain of trust.

Second, Be Someone who builds trust: Ask why they believe what they do? And what evidence might change their mind?

The thing is, trust happens one conversation at a time. It is like a bank account, and you may have to make multiple deposits in the account before you can start making withdrawals.

As my dad saw it, the third quality of Being Someone was humor. It’s a quality he kept through the end. He learned his English-language sense of humor from an old TV show called M*A*S*H. I was just chatting with my team about my favorite scene from M*A*S*H, describing war. I urge everyone to take a look at that.

M*A*S*H was about an army field hospital in the Korean War. 

We need the levity that humor brings. Laughter during dark days doesn’t diminish the weight of the shadows; it just makes them a little bit easier to bear.

What I marveled at was his ability to bring humor into situations where I would have least expected to find it. Even in the room of a dying patient and their family, my dad always found a way to lighten the heaviest of moods.

That’s important because you are allowed to laugh. These days, humor is considered fraught in some circles. The world is dark, and there are those who suggest that a well-timed joke is not always appropriate. I don’t see it that way. 

Indeed, it’s just the opposite. We need the levity that humor brings. Laughter during dark days doesn’t diminish the weight of the shadows; it just makes them a little bit easier to bear.

That’s because the human brain is a magnificent thing. We can be happy and sad at the same time. You can hold grief and joy in your hands at the same moment. Humor is what makes us human.

And humor is important, especially now. When I think of each of you, you all came into consciousness while the world was still reeling from 9/11, into a world punctuated by terrorism, unending gun violence, economic recessions, environmental catastrophe, and now, a global pandemic. 

Tom Brokaw hailed the people who survived the Depression and World War II as the Greatest Generation, not for who they were, but for what they overcame. I don’t know what your generation will be called, but one thing is clear: The world has handed you much more than your share.

Your generation has seen so much  and responded with wit, creativity, righteous anger, and a determination to take the reality you’ve been handed and make it better. Even through COVID, you managed to flourish under absurd circumstances. For many of you, junior year abroad turned into junior year abridged.

But your humility, your humanity, and your humor have helped you Be Someone who is about to graduate from �ֲ���ý College. Many of you will go on to remarkable careers: in business, arts, and government. The rest of you will become podcasters.

No matter where you go, what you do, you are likely to be one of the smartest people in any room that you are in. The first thing you should do is find a bigger room. But the second is to remember the tools that �ֲ���ý has given you. 

�ֲ���ý has prepared you to choose to be anyone, any time, in any place. But my ask is far simpler: that you choose to Be Someone. Choose to carry the qualities of humility, humanity, and humor with you wherever you go next. 

Congratulations to the �ֲ���ý College Class of 2022! Thank you for having me today. Thank you for honoring me today. Thank you for humoring me today. Go out there and Be Someone.

When we confront the skeptics of science, we tend to return fire with a fire-hose of facts and figures.

“We often treat skeptics like a high-school debater would: We rattle off a litany of reasons why they are wrong,” said Dr. Nirav Shah, director of the Maine Center for Disease Control and featured speaker of the 156th Commencement of �ֲ���ý College on May 29. “We try to pop as many balloons as possible with our pin.”

It’s a bad approach on two accounts, Shah told the graduating seniors. “In the history of recorded thought, not a single mind has ever been changed via that approach.” 

And worse, our refutation is often accompanied by condescension. “We treat those with different beliefs not just as incorrect, but as ignorant. Please don’t do that,” he advised.

Instead, try a little humanity. “Be someone who builds trust,” said Shah, a luminary of Maine’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic.

On a sunny and warm morning, Shah’s personal, insightful, and occasionally very funny address was heard by 498 seniors and their loved ones, faculty, and staff under the trees of the Historic Quad and watched around the world via livestream. After two disrupted Commencements — a virtual edition in 2020 and a split, morning-afternoon in-person edition last year — this year’s ceremony felt like a block party.

The complete 2022 �ֲ���ý Commencement video.

In the spirit that it’s always a good time to give offer thanks, appreciation, and maybe just a “way to go,” President Clayton Spencer changed up her traditional welcome, pausing early on to ask the audience gathered before Coram Library to raise a cheer to this year’s seniors for all they’ve been through.

That cheer — which timed out at a generous 14 seconds — helped mark the joyful return of �ֲ���ý Commencement pomp and circumstance, accompanied by sweet and well-chosen words from Spencer, Shah, and others, including senior speaker Teresa Chico ‘22 and Alumni Association president Jennifer Crawford ‘01. 

Shah was one of four honorary degree recipients, the others being:

• Michael Bonney ’80, a nationally recognized biotech CEO whose extensive philanthropy has funded the Bonney Science Center, new professorships, and innovations in STEM education at �ֲ���ý.
• Nikki Giovanni, a widely acclaimed poet, teacher, and voice of the Black experience for more than 50 years.
• The Rev. Becca Stevens, an author and social entrepreneur whose Thistle Farms organization supports those who have experienced trafficking, prostitution, and addiction. 

With the pandemic not yet in the rear-view mirror — it’s more in the side mirror — Spencer sought to illuminate what the seniors gained despite all they lost. 

External events, whether COVID-19 or the “pervasiveness of racism and racially-motivated violence in this country,” radically transformed the minute-to-minute campus experience of this year’s seniors, intruding “insistently and persistently, into every dimension of your college experience since the spring of your sophomore year.”

Yes, the Class of 2022 has missed much, Spencer and others noted. For example, while typically nearly 60 percent of a �ֲ���ý class would study abroad at some point in their college careers, less than 10 percent of the Class of 2022 got that opportunity.

Four straight sports seasons were canceled or severely curtailed. Campus offerings, especially in the arts, were stripped down to the physically distanced minimum. Students ate from take-out containers for the 2020–21 year.

“It would be easy to focus on what you may have missed in your college experience,” Spencer said. “I urge you, however, to think about what you have gained,” the ability to “move through the world more consciously and intentionally than a typical graduating senior.”

Any graduation is a singular accomplishment, she said, and “we are so very proud of all of you. But I also want to lift up and recognize these other gifts — the broadened perspective, the early wisdom, and the deepened empathy — that will be your superpowers as you venture forth to make the world a better place.”

In delivering Shah’s honorary degree citation, Dean of the Faculty and Vice President for Academic Affairs Malcolm Hill said that Shah used his “powerful intellect and profound humanity” to become Maine’s “calm and sure-footed guide through uncharted territory” as COVID-19 barreled into the state in 2020. 

Whether leading daily media briefings, joining public radio call-in shows, convening Zoom discussions with community leaders, or through his own deft and often witty forays into social media, Shah became “not just our doctor in chief but our counselor, philosopher, and sage.”

In many ways, this year’s Commencement rhetoric helped to deliver, as they say, the cure for what ails us. And if laughter is the best medicine, that cure was also in ample supply at Commencement, thanks to Shah’s wit and humor, setting the tone with a selfie from the Coram Library porch as he kicked off his address. “If you don’t want to be on Twitter, let me known now,” he quipped to the audience of several thousand.

He kicked off his address with these standup-quality one liners:

• “Just remember: If you like what I have to say today, my name is Nirav Shah,” he said. “If you don’t like what I have to say, just remember that my name is Sanjay Gupta.”
• Shah said he devoted the same energy and care to his talk that seniors devoted to their theses. “So last night, after downing a bunch of Red Bulls and literally reaching the end of Twitter, I started writing.”
• When he graduated from college, he said he thought he was powerful and independent, “a one-man wolf pack. But the truth is, I was basically a house cat, completely dependent on others, yet fully convinced of my own independence.” 

Shah listed notable �ֲ���ý Commencement speakers, including from the 1960s and 1970s, and noted that they have since died. “What’s up with that?” he asked. “There is an uncanny correlation between speaking at �ֲ���ý and then dying 30 to 50 years later. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in the past two years it’s that correlation always equals causation.” (A well-delivered pandemic-era joke that prompted a long round of applause.)

Shah’s address was packed with insight and delightful personal details as he asked the graduates to approach life with humility, humanity, and humor, three qualities that Shah learned from his father, a man who went from picking mangoes in rural India to earning his medical degree in America. 

Shah’s theme was “Be Someone,” a phrase that’s crackled in his mind for a few years. His voice breaking, Shah told the audience that he’d lost his father three years ago after a long illness. But before that, knowing his father’s health was declining and his help would be needed, Shah lived with his mother and father in Houston.

One day he and his father were driving back from a medical appointment and passed beneath a graffiti-strewn railroad bridge. “It wasn’t just everyday graffiti. It was graffiti with meaning,” Shah said. Two words captured his attention, “elegant in their simplicity, compelling in their directness, and poetic in their brevity: Be Someone.”

The two words captured “how my dad himself lived his life. How I try to live my life. And how, today, I’d like to urge you to live your lives.” Shah asked the seniors to Be Someone the way his father did, with humility, humanity, and humor.

Humility, he said, “comes down to saying the three hardest words in the English language: ‘I don’t know.’” Shah said that he used to think that “intelligence came from accumulating the largest warehouse of knowledge,” and Shah does have a big store, holding both a medical and law degree from the University of Chicago.

But “frankly, this approach led to me being tremendously unlikeable. My middle name should have been ‘Well, actually,’” he quipped. “For me, being smart was like having the only pin at a balloon party. And achievement was walking around popping everyone else’s balloons.”

If you don’t know something, just say so. “If someone asks you what time it is, do not tell them how to build a clock. If you don’t know what time it is, tell them that.”

Humanity, Shah said, is how his father confronted skeptics. “Rather than dismissing those who asked skeptical questions, he treated them with humanity.” And humanity strengthens the “chain of trust” that allows Shah to have full confidence in his fellow scientists, specifically believing in the effectiveness of the vaccines for COVID-19.

“I’ve been asked numerous times how I know that the COVID vaccines are effective? After all, I didn’t perform the studies myself. So how can I know that the vaccines are doing their job?”

He knows vaccines are effective because he is “part of a ‘chain of trust’ with the people who have concluded so,” including scientists, physicians, and statisticians, to name a few. “I trust the conclusion because I trust each of the links in that chain.”

Skeptics, on the other hand, are often “part of a different chain of trust whose links comprise lived experiences and relationships, not data in scientific journals. They are susceptible to misinformation because they do not belong to the same chain of trust that scientists do.”

But do not dehumanize those who disagree. “Rather, recognize that their skepticism may stem from being part of a different chain of trust. Be someone who builds trust: Ask why they believe what they do. What evidence might change their mind?”

Shah’s father learned American and English-language humor by watching American television, especially M*A*S*H, the classic 1970s comedy-drama series about an Army field hospital during the Korean War.

At its best, M*A*S*H showed how humor and sadness can coexist. Shah said his father could “bring humor into situations where I would have least expected to find it.” And that’s being human.

 “The human mind is a magnificent thing,” said Shah. “It can be happy and sad at the same time. You can hold grief and joy in your hands at the exact same moment.”

Even during a pandemic, “you’re allowed to laugh,” he said, even if, these days, “humor is fraught. The world is dark and there are those who suggest that a well-timed joke may not be appropriate. Don’t believe them. We need the levity that humor brings. Laughter during dark days doesn’t diminish the weight of the shadows; it just makes them a little bit easier to bear.”

As they head out into the world, the new �ֲ���ý grads will often see themselves as one of the smartest people in the room, Shah said. “The first thing you should do is find a bigger room.” 

The second is to use the tools of a �ֲ���ý education. “�ֲ���ý has prepared you to be anyone, any time, in any place,” he concluded. “But my ask is that you chose to be someone. Choose to carry the qualities of humility, humanity, and humor with you wherever you go next.“

In her Senior Address, Chico used a seasonal metaphor to describe her growth at �ֲ���ý as a first-generation college student. ​​A self-described “plant person,” Chico thought she was like her sturdy pothos plant when she arrived at �ֲ���ý, so resilient it barely needed nurturing.

“Like so many first generation students and people of color…I thought that I owed it to my family and everyone who helped me get here to be perfect.” 

That meant being a science major — never mind that she didn’t really like science — and then advancing to medical school. “I had this crazy standard for myself that was really stressful and overwhelming, but like the pothos plant, I thought I would just take care of myself for these next four years. I was lucky to be here and I would make the most of it. No water or sunlight required.”

As she pivoted from science to the humanities, as a double major in Africana and in rhetoric, film, and screen studies, Chico discovered that it’s OK to need and ask for help, like her “dramatic” Chinese money plant.

“I had to learn to believe in myself, but I also had to learn that it was okay to ask for help. Like the Chinese money plant, I had days where I was drooping, feeling defeated. But it was on those hard days that my professors watered me with their knowledge and support.”

The awarding of the day’s honorary degrees featured a moment of sweet disorder as President Spencer conferred the honorary degree for Michael Bonney ’80 not once but twice.

The first time, Spencer, who worked closely with Bonney in his nine years of service as chair of the Board of Trustees, choked up as she delivered the conferral. So a few minutes later, just before Shah was presented his honorary degree, Spencer paused the proceedings, apologized, and asked Bonney to return to her side so she could present him his degree, “again and correctly.” She said:  

“Whenever and however we tell your story, we tell it with gratitude and pride. We know what this college means to you, and we only hope that you know how very much you mean to us.”

As Commencement approached its close, Jennifer Crawford ‘01 welcomed the newly minted graduates to their alumni lives. “No matter where life takes you, you will forever be part of an accomplished and dynamic community of over 24,000 Bobcats strong who…will forever be part of your extended family.” 

In her benediction, the Rev. Brittany Longsdorf compared the seniors to the resilient Eastern white pine, the official Maine tree. She asked the seniors to remember how much they have always been valued as they leave �ֲ���ý and begin their next chapter.

In this moment of awe and wonder, may you breathe deep as you prepare to begin again; feel our collective blessing on the journey ahead just as you have been and continue to be a blessing to �ֲ���ý. It is time to cross this threshold. 

The Class of 2022 gathered for their class photo at Garcelon Field this morning. Wrapping up a college career is hard work, but the seniors did a good job, showing up only fashionably late.

Here’s a time-lapse video of how it went down:

The class photo included toasts with sparkling wine that were delivered in two directions. Longtime �ֲ���ý dean James Reese toasted the seniors, saluting their resilience and achievement. Then the seniors were asked to toast the incoming Class of 2026.

At first, with good humor, the seniors — certainly not ready to give up their seniority just yet — booed rather lustily when Christine Schwartz, associate vice president for dining, conferences, and campus events, asked them to welcome the soon-to-be �ֲ���ý newbies.

After all, when one class arrives, one leaves.

But good spirits prevailed, the seniors raised their cups high, and the toast was made. After a cheer of “Great Day to be a Bobcat!” another ritual of Commencement was in the books.

Then everyone departed Garcelon, much quicker than back in May 1960, when the annual all-college photograph — everyone: students, faculty, and staff — was pranked. A fence encircled Garcelon Field in those days, and during the photo session someone chained and locked all the exits.

“And no one had keys,” recalled legendary �ֲ���ý admission dean Milton Lindholm ’35 back in 2005. “Then someone remembered the basement door to Alumni Gym. It took an hour for us all to depart, single file, through the locker room and out to the campus. It was a prank in the best sense: no harm was done.”

Four hundred and sixty-three members of the Class of 2020 are set to graduate on Sunday, May 31.

• 37 States (plus D.C.) represented
• 38 Students from Maine
• 52 Countries represented (including U.S.)
• 32 Receiving departmental honors
• 41.5% varsity athletes
• 12.3% first generation to college
• 63.9% studied abroad*

* Defined as a semester or more.

Academics

The Class of 2020 has accumulated 576 academic majors.

• 348 single majors
• 114 double majors
• 0 triple majors

Majors distribution 

American Cultural Studies: 6

Anthropology: 12

Art and Visual Culture: 19

Biological Chemistry: 11

Biology: 27

Chemistry: 9

Chinese: 2

Classical and Medieval Studies: 8

Dance: 5

East Asian Studies: 5

Economics: 71

Engineering: 2

English: 16

Environmental Studies: 30

European Studies: 3

French and Francophone Studies: 11

Gender and Sexuality Studies: 1

Geology: 7

German: 4

History: 18

Interdisciplinary Studies: 5

Japanese: 2

Latin American Studies: 2

Mathematics: 32

Music: 3

Neuroscience: 16

Philosophy: 17

Physics: 14

Politics: 76

Psychology: 58

Religious Studies: 6

Rhetoric: 23

Sociology: 31

Spanish: 12

Theater: 5

Women and Gender Studies: 7

“Put some effort into this. You’ll be glad you did,” one Bobcat athlete said to a first-year teammate.

The occasion was the annual Athletics photo session to create head-and-shoulder portraits — pretty much unchanged since Robert Cornelius created the first photo portrait in 1839 — to populate online rosters and awards stories.

“We always have so much fun watching each other do crazy photos — the more absurd, the better.”

But that’s only half the game. After their roster portrait is done, photographer Brewster Burns encourages the Bobcats to let it all hang out, celebrating both self and team by posing for stylized “sportraits” — poses and props of their choosing, with teammates often helping out.

It all creates a fun team event, says Julia Panepinto ’20 of Buffalo, N.Y., a two-sport athlete in softball and volleyball.

“We get to be together for an hour, talking about our season to come. It’s the first time you put on your uniform, and it definitely has a game-day feel,” she says. “We always have so much fun watching each other do crazy photos — the more absurd, the better.”

Below are a few of our favorite 2019–20 sportraits. Enjoy! (None of the photographs have been digitally changed, aside from accepted practices of sharpening and exposure adjustment.)

Aqua Man

Dan Waterland ’22, a swimmer from Chadds Ford, Pa., found a fun way to show how swimmers work out, donning all kinds of training gear at once: paddles, snorkel, fins, and a resistance parachute.

“We don’t just jump in the water and swim laps. We use equipment just like other sports to help us perform better. We like to have fun, too!”

(About that gear: a snorkel helps a swimmer with body position; paddles help a swimmer “catch” the water better; the parachute creates resistance during training; and the fins help a swimmer move faster, creating a race-like feel.)

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Celebration Ball

For her senior-year softball portrait, co-captain Julia Panepinto ’20 of Buffalo, N.Y., gave a fist-pumping yell as teammates tossed balls into the frame.

The photo session was held in February before the COVID-19 pandemic put a stop to the spring season and the rest of the in-person �ֲ���ý experience.

Still, Panepinto holds tight to the feeling she had at that moment: “It’s a celebration: how I feel about this team, this sport, this program, and this college. It’s the high energy and intense, competitive spirit I hope to leave with the softball team.”

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Home on the Range

Golfer Preston Haugh ’21 (right) of Alexandria, Va., pretended to get a distance to the pin on his rangefinder. Completing the portrait are Nick Beati ’20 (left) of Chelmsford, Mass., and Jim Stevens ’20 of North Kingstown, R.I.

“I got 160 yards,” said Haugh.

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

‘Wonderment and Power’

Part Esther Williams spectacle, part Red Sea miracle, the women’s swimming and diving team paid homage to the “sheer wonderment and power,” explains Emily Erard-Stone ’20, of “our beloved Bobcat mascot” — played by a snarling Lily Scott ’21 at bottom center.

As the photo was taken, “we all fell away as if a sea were parted and a Bobcat emerged from the depths above all other sea creatures,” says Erard-Stone, a geology major from Richmond, Va. One of the tallest members of the team, she’s at top center with arms outstretched, giving a big hug to the entire team. 

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Here and Now

Mohamed Diawara ’23, a receiver on the football team, says that his sportrait pose “shows everyone that I’m finally here and the ball is in my hands.”

The pose also says thanks to his coaches for putting him “into a position to make plays. Giving me the ball is all I could ask.”

“Being an inner-city kid from Philadelphia, it’s very tough,” he says. “I had to overcome a lot and work hard to get to �ֲ���ý. It’s a blessing to get to play college football, as many people never get that opportunity, and I just wanted to make the most of it.”

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Bold Bobcat

“This photo encapsulates the pure bold and wild spirit of the �ֲ���ý rowing team,” says team captain Hannah Fitts ’20, a physics major from Pawtucket, R.I.

“We are fearless and loud and unapologetically ourselves.”

Winner of three NCAA team championships during her �ֲ���ý career, Fitts was a second-team All America selection by the College Rowing Coaches Association in 2019.

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

‘Hungry Dogs Run Faster’

The men’s lacrosse players who handle faceoffs are specialists, known as “X men” because the faceoff takes place on a small X at midfield.

X men trot onto the field for the faceoff, battle mightily for the all-important possession, then scamper off for an immediate substitute.

To evoke that high-intensity of their work, �ֲ���ý’ X men created this wild sportrait.

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Clockwise from upper left are Chris Costello  ’21 of Putnam, N.Y., Jack Walsh ’20 of Huntington, N.Y., Peter Ackley ’23 of New Albany, Ohio, and Jackson Williams ’23 of Cumberland, Maine.

The concept is that Costello and Walsh are restraining two large, leashed, and crazy-hungry dogs — Williams and Ackley — “back from a juicy steak 10 feet away,” explains Costello. The steak, of course, is the ball. And Williams’ and Ackley’s frothing is courtesy of a mouthful of Alka-Seltzer tablets.

The photo conveys the group’s watchwords: “Confident, fearless,  pugnacious, controlled aggression,” says Costello.

As faceoff experts, “we have to want the ball more than our opponent, and be willing to do whatever it takes to get it,” says Costello. “As they say, “Hungry dogs run faster,’” explains Walsh.

Power of Three

Friendship and excitement were the theme when these three first-year track members posed together.

“The three of us had the idea to take this photo to highlight both the excitement of taking sportraits — it was the first time in our uniforms — and being able to take creative pictures with people we’d grown close to,” says Megan Lacey ’23 (right) of Braxton, Miss.

She’s with Abigail Otterbein ’23 (left) of Beverly, Mass., and Alice Cockerham ’23 of Kingfield, Maine.

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Calling All Sports

For her sportrait, track and field athlete Elise Lambert ’22 of Amherst, N.H., pulled in young Henry Walter, son of head coach Jennifer “Jay” Hartshorn.

In her first year at �ֲ���ý, Lambert saw a senior use his shoe like a telephone (some readers will get the Maxwell Smart reference) for a sportrait.

“I thought that it was really funny, so when Henry showed up to our session, I knew I wanted to take a goofy picture with him, and this idea popped into mind.

“It was super silly and really fun — then Henry stole the shoe I gave him and I had to chase him around Alumni Gym in my socks to get it back.”

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Wolverines!

Elijah Coyne ’22 of Newtown, Pa., uses the tools of his track trade, relay batons, to go for a Hugh Jackman / Wolverine look.

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Strong Serve

Tennis player and psychology major Lauren Hernandez ’20 brought a childhood photo to her sportrait session.

The photo shows Hernandez right before her first tennis lesson, when she was about 4 years old. “My grandma made the skirt I am wearing in the picture,” she explains. “That’s indicative of how involved my family would later become with the sport.”

Playing tennis has taught Hernandez that “consistency, commitment, and purpose are the building blocks to a successful path” forward in any endeavor. Her �ֲ���ý teammates, she says, “have shown me what unwavering and loyal friendship is.”

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Love of the Game

“This portrait ,” says Eric Opoku ’20, a men’s soccer player and history major from Accra, Ghana.

“He’s the reason why I love soccer. For him, happiness was much more important than just scoring goals and winning a game. Watching him over the years inspired me to make loving the game itself my primary focus. That is why I always try to model my game after him.”

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Flex Plan

“The pose in the photo is a pike position used in diving. It’s my favorite pose,” says Julia Bisson ’23, a diver from North Yarmouth, Maine.

“As a diver, you have to be flexible so you can spin faster and do more flips. I chose this pose because it represents the flexibility and strength that is required for diving.”

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Force of Nordic

This is a Star Wars–inspired sportrait, says Carter Ros ’21, a history major from Hailey, Idaho. “I wanted it to look like I was using the Force to levitate my skis and poles.”

Star Wars and Nordic skiing? Stick with us.

“Nordic is an individual sport, just like this is an individual photo. But you need help from your teammates to push you in training in order to succeed.”

In this case, the help comes from four of Ros’ teammates, just outside the frame holding all the equipment, just so, for the photo.

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Gabrielle Eustache ’20 of New York City

Volleyball player Gabi Eustache ’20, a neuroscience major from New York City, is a defensive specialist known as a libero. Her sportrait shows one of her favorite plays (and one of the sport’s most exciting), the pancake, which requires quickness, intensity, and eyes-on-ball focus.

It’s fun, she says, because “I get to sprawl out on the ground and just barely get the ball up with the top of my hand.”

Volleyball has been incredibly rewarding, she says. “I would not be the woman I am today without my teammates or my coaches.”

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Row Your Boat

In this group photo, some of the first-year members of the women’s lacrosse team show their solidarity while offering a nod to another talented group of Bobcats, the national champion women’s rowing team. Acting as coxswain, at right, is Cammie Lavoie ’23 of Epping, N.H.

“Looking back, we realized our facial expressions didn’t quite match with what we were going for, but that made it funnier in our opinion,” says Shelby Howard (far left) of Ashland, Mass.

From left,  Howard; Hadley Nolan of Bethesda, Md.; Allison Greuel of Freeport, Maine; Chloe Robinson of North Salem, N.Y.; Sophie Scola of San Mateo, Calif.; Stella Stone of Providence, R.I.; Annie Conway of South Salem, N.Y.; Zoe Knauss of Buffalo, N.Y.; and Lavoie.

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College

Joy of Running

Often, photos of long-distance runners emphasize exhaustion, if not outright pain.

“Running is often hard and painful, but I wanted my sportrait to show the joyful side of it,” says Vanessa Paolella ’21, a geology major from Dingmans Ferry, Pa.

“Running makes me feel like I can do anything,” she says. “While my form in this photo is more dynamic than usual, I think it captures the feeling really well.”

Brewster Burns for �ֲ���ý College