Class of 2021 – News

Aiming for ‘different’: the story behind the 2021 ivy stone

Mary Pols — Wed, 09 Jun 2021 15:07:21 +0000

As a student, Muskan Verma ’21 of Shimla, India, always paid attention to the ivy stones around campus, particularly the newer ones she saw while passing Pettengill Hall.

Ivy stones have been placed on campus buildings since 1879 as a rite of graduation; old or new, they feature familiar elements. Like ivy, for one, seen on most of them. Other campus features pop up occasionally, like Hathorn and its bell tower (in closeup in 2020, 1973 and 1963 and from a distance in 2019), and lantern and lamp motifs (1980, 2005, and 2014). The Class of 1999 went a little meta, sketching bricks on their design along with the ivy.

“What if ours could look different?” Verma asked herself.

After Commencement on May 27, Muskan Verma ’21 poses next to the Class of 2021 ivy stone that she designed. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

The best way to make that happen, she reasoned, was to do it herself. Regardless of the outcome of the competition, even the prospect of having something she’d made etched in stone was a good motivator. “I didn’t really expect my submission to be selected,” she says. “I just wanted to give it a try.”

Yet the rhetoric and theater major’s design was indeed selected, by a vote of the senior class. (Voters did not know who the designers were.) It now adorns Pettengill itself, installed by �ֲ��ý mason Ron Tardif on May 25, just to the right of the front door entrance.

It features a few very specific motifs. There’s the Bobcat (not unusual, the Bobcat can also be found on 2011’s and 1929’s stone) but just below the cat’s noble face is a sign of the times circa 2020–21: a pandemic face covering.

The Class of 2021 ivy stone features the Bobcat and two signs of times: a face covering and a raised fist. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

“At first I thought about not including anything related to COVID-19 in the design,” Verma says. “But it felt incomplete to me. It would be a disservice to everyone who was adversely affected by this pandemic in different ways to completely skip over a tough but important part of our �ֲ��ý experience.”

The mask, Verma felt, was the “most universal symbol for the pandemic” but it was also a reminder of one good thing: “the efforts the �ֲ��ý community put in to keep each other safe.”

She softened it by adding a few ivy leaves growing around it, a very deliberate choice to represent how the campus community grew from the experience. “I wanted to make it look dynamic, hopeful and a step towards better,” she says.

Near the Pettengill Hall main entrance, �ֲ��ý mason Ron Tardif puts the finishing touches on the Class of 2021 ivy stone on May 25, two days before Commencement. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Verma also made the bold move of including a raised fist, the century-old, iconic symbol of resistance and activism made freshly ascendent in the Black Lives Matter movement. For a class that witnessed the country explode in powerful protest after the June 2020 murder of George Floyd by police officers in Minneapolis, it made great sense to Verma that the symbol be present.

”Our class has been around to experience and more importantly, stand up and highlight that by protesting the oppression of marginalized people,” she says. Included in that was taking a stand close to home, to interrogate the story of �ֲ��ý’ founding and to issue a wake-up call to �ֲ��ý “to do more in the struggle for equity, inclusion and antiracism.”

�ֲ��ý mason Ron Tardif uses a brick jointer to smooth the mortar around the Class of 2021 ivy stone. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

“To me, [the fist] symbolizes the non-violent strength of the masses. People power,” she says, mentioning causes like feminism, socialism, labor rights, and the Black Power movement. “But that’s just a personal take. I understand different people and generations associate it with different types of resistance.”

It was already resonating even before the mortar was dry. “Power to the people,” said Tardif approvingly as he put the finishing touches on the 2021 ivy stone.

This is one of the very few ivy stones to make direct reference to contemporary events. The Class of 1970 seems to feature the Earth — though it could be the sun — on its stone, perhaps in homage to Earth Day, first held in April 1970.

The 1946 stone includes what looks like a ship’s wheel, a nice nod to the presence of the Navy at �ֲ��ý during their years. And the 2015 stone is illustrated with palindromic binary code — 11111011111 — that signifies the numerals 2015 to reflect the digital age.

The Class of 1970’s ivy stone: a nod to the first Earth Day? (Jay Burns/�ֲ��ý College)

Ultimately though, for Verma, “this was just as much a symbol of the power of the student body that makes up this college and holds the power to make change.”

Verma’s hope is that people who see the stone will think of the resilience of the Class of 2021. It should stand as a symbol, “that our work isn’t yet done and that resistance will be even more important when we are out there, not together anymore, but still a community.” Ideally, the message is personal for her classmates. “I hope the design represents at least in some ways, every single person from my class and that they are able to think of our time here when they come across it.”

Picture story: ‘Gems of love, gems of endurance’ at �ֲ��ý Commencement 2021

Phyllis Graber Jensen — Thu, 03 Jun 2021 17:21:07 +0000

The immersive photography of Phyllis Graber Jensen and Theophil Syslo shines brightly in this picture story about Commencement 2021 on May 27.

‘I hate grass’: Confessions, quirks, and authenticity from Hoi Ning Ngai’s Baccalaureate Address

Hoi Ning Ngai — Fri, 28 May 2021 15:15:53 +0000

One of the things that I say to every �ֲ��ý student I meet is that, whatever it takes, know yourself and know yourself well.

Engage in the critical self-reflection that’s necessary to really know who you are, who you’ve been, and who you want to be. So often we go through the motions of life not thinking about what exactly we’re doing and why exactly we’re doing it. And then we wonder why we feel unfulfilled.

Life is hard enough — why live it with less intention, meaning, and purpose than we have to? It can be difficult to look inward and think deeply about our whys. Sometimes it’s because we’ve never done it so we don’t know how, sometimes it’s because we’re worried about what we’ll find or not find. And yet, it’s through knowing the whys that we find clarity, direction, and focus.

Baccalaureate Address
Hoi Ning Ngai of the �ֲ��ý Center for Purposeful Work delivered this address during the virtual Baccalaureate Service on May 23, 2021. An associate director of employer engagement and business advising with Purposeful Work, Ngai also serves as an interim associate dean of intercultural education. The Baccalaureate speaker is chosen by the senior class.

As you reflect on your own lives and next steps, and because you don’t all know me yet, I thought I’d share a few thoughts and confessions that you may find helpful — or at the very least sufficiently amusing. I hope you’ll get a sense of my whys as well as who I am, who I’ve been, and who I want to be.

You may (and probably should) ask for advice and guidance from others, but you should always be the final arbiter of your own destiny.

To start, I’ll confess that I’ve always wanted a tattoo. Of course, my pain threshold is pretty much non-existent, so it still hasn’t happened yet. But I’m only 42, so there’s still plenty of time, right? Specifically, I’ve always wanted a tattoo of a compass, on the back of my neck, with the needle pointing upward. It’s because I know that I am my own true north — and you are yours.

You may (and probably should) ask for advice and guidance from others, but you should always be the final arbiter of your own destiny. As soon as you relinquish your decision-making power, you take a back seat to what could be an amazing journey of your own design. Even if you run into challenges along the way, don’t let anyone else take the steering wheel. All of the bumps and detours — they will test you. How you respond to them and what choices you make ultimately contribute to a narrative, a story, a life that’s truly yours.

If I listened to everyone’s “You must do this” or “You can’t do that” — I’m not sure I’d feel quite as empowered as I do at this point in my life.

I’ll confess that I don’t know how to drive, so I really should avoid all car and road references since I honestly have no idea what I’m talking about. I used to have the line: “I’m so excited to learn how to drive in Maine” in my bio. Six months ago, I specifically asked my colleague Sheila to remove that line. At some point during the pandemic, I decided that I simply don’t care enough. I’m a free and independent spirit — a Sagittarius born in the year of the horse — so not knowing how to drive has definitely limited how far I’ve been able to go.

However, I’ve been able to see more of the world without a license than most would ever think possible. More importantly, I have other things that I’d rather do with my time. As this crazy and intense year has shown us, you never know what life will bring, so you need to figure out what your priorities are, separate from what everyone else has to say. If I listened to everyone’s “You must do this” or “You can’t do that” — I’m not sure I’d feel quite as empowered as I do at this point in my life. For now, my priorities are: finding community, building relationships, and making friends. And y’know what? They all have cars!

Hoi Ning Ngai, photographed at her Purposeful Work office on Wood Street in February 2021. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

I’ll confess that I’ve always been afraid of public speaking. I literally cried when I had to memorize two lines for my fifth-grade play — a play that neither I nor my classmates nor our parents remember the title of three decades later. In school, I hated getting randomly called on in class. At work, I hated making presentations, especially to strangers. I either talked way too fast, jumbled my words, or sounded like a robot. Or some combination of all three.

Unlike driving, though, public speaking is something I’ve always wanted to get better at. I mean, it literally shows up in every aspect of my personal and professional life. And if I’m being completely honest, I know that 1) I have a dramatic streak and 2) I’m a bit of a ham.

When something matters enough, you’ll do what you need to. And even if it’s not always the best show, try to make it your best effort.

So I took a deep breath and then a deep dive straight into the fear. While I was in grad school, I became a fitness instructor, because what could be more terrifying than having 30 people staring at you, in a wall of mirrors, for 60 minutes? On one occasion, I completely crashed and burned on a routine. No one knew what was going on — including me. It was an epic fail, but no one got injured (thankfully) and the entire class was really supportive. And despite the embarrassment, even I couldn’t help laughing about it.

When I worked at Penn, I signed up for Acting 101. We could take one class for free every semester and this was the motivation I needed. I still remember the shock — and thrill — of being able to memorize 10 whole minutes of dialogue with my scene partner Adriana, a junior who was incredibly patient whenever she sensed my anxiety level rising. I can’t say public speaking has gotten that much easier over time, but I’ll own all of the progress I’ve made since that fifth-grade play. When something matters enough, you’ll do what you need to. And even if it’s not always the best show, try to make it your best effort.

I’ll confess that I hate grass. Especially live grass. With bugs. I grew up in the urban jungle of New York City, where I spent more time on concrete pavement than dirt roads. My family was poor, so I never had the chance to go to sleepaway camp or get exposed to nature in a way that was deeply impactful. So it meant a lot to be able to go away to Dartmouth for college. I couldn’t wait to escape the noise and pollution of the big city for the fresh air and mountains of New Hampshire. I also love snow, so I was always so excited for the first snowfall of the year. Of course, when the snow melts and spring arrives, the grass comes out.

You may have people who dismiss you for your quirks and idiosyncrasies, but the ones who love you are the ones who’ll allow you to be who you are and make space for your strange and special qualities.

So when I say I hate grass, I really mean it. I hate walking in it. I hate sitting in it. I don’t even like the smell of it. One spring, my best friend, Derek, really wanted me to watch him play ultimate frisbee on the green. Of course, I immediately said no. And he knew exactly why. It’s not like he’d never teased me about it, but he certainly never made me feel bad about it either.

So what did he do? He found the biggest blanket he could find. In my fuzzy memory, it seemed as big as a 10-foot square. He laid it out on the grass and had me sit right in the middle of it. Just me in a sea of blanket. You may have people who dismiss you for your quirks and idiosyncrasies, but the ones who love you are the ones who’ll allow you to be who you are and make space for your strange and special qualities. No strings attached.

I’ll confess that I love shooting. Ever since I met my first-year hallmate Doug, who shot and hunted regularly with his family in Montana, I’d really wanted to try it. Of course, it’s not something everyone wants to do and back then I wasn’t sure about doing it on my own — I mean, it’s not really a city girl hobby. So when I visited my friend Victor from grad school at home in Texas, he made sure the local shooting range was on my itinerary.

Like Doug, he’d also grown up shooting, so he was comfortable showing me the ropes. Despite being petite and lightweight myself, to everyone’s surprise, I preferred shooting the .45 — a higher-caliber gun — where I could feel the weight and recoil more intensely. I also hit the bullseye multiple times from 100 yards away.

�ֲ��ý Center for Purposeful Work colleagues Beverly Vari (left) and Hoi Ning Ngai (right) hold their weekly check-in meeting on the Historic Quad in September 2020. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

For a long time, I used to ascribe that to beginner’s luck, but after shooting more regularly, I realized that I’m pretty good. It’s because I’m careful, and focused, and committed. Over the last six years, I’ve taken group classes, gotten private lessons, and worked on my accuracy and precision. During the pandemic, I even got the chance to shoot a rifle, which had been on my to-do list for some time.

For me, being able to shoot isn’t about causing harm or inflicting pain. It is however about flipping the script on who I can be and what I can do.

Let’s be clear. As a 5-foot-2-inch Asian woman, I navigate a multitude — a multitude — of gender and racial stereotypes every single day — ones that constantly frame me as quiet, passive, and weak. And whether the world admits it or not, these stereotypes exist, and they persist, and they continue to impact how others experience me and how I experience them. And because I don’t subscribe to all of the assumptions, presumptions, and norms applied to me, I simply want everyone to know that I’m a boss. For me, being able to shoot isn’t about causing harm or inflicting pain. It is however about flipping the script on who I can be and what I can do. Whenever I have the chance, I make it a point to challenge the expectations of the world. I strive to be and do more because I know that I can.

I’ll confess that I’m terrible at poker — and anything that requires deception. I wear all of my emotions on my face — from delight to disdain, from glee to gloom. I can’t bluff, I can’t lie, and if you deserve it, I definitely won’t hesitate to give you side-eye. Whether I’m extremely excited or deeply disappointed, I don’t want to hide it. At the end of the day, authenticity is my deepest of values, and all I ever want is to be wholly me. I want to say what I’m thinking and what I’m feeling. I don’t ever want people to wonder what’s on my mind.

You have to accept your voice for what it is and what it can do. Embrace it, own it, and use it — hopefully to make the world a better place.

Of course, that hasn’t always won me favors, or friends, or followers. Not everyone wants to hear the whole truth and nothing but the truth, especially when it’s criticism. You can always work on your diction and framing, your timing and tone. At some point though, you have to be comfortable with your voice and saying what you need to say. You may not always get the response you want and you have to figure out how to navigate that possibility, but you have to accept your voice for what it is and what it can do. Embrace it, own it, and use it — hopefully to make the world a better place.

I hope these confessions have helped you get to know me a little bit better and what I care about. I share them with you earnestly because I want you to be comfortable embracing all of the ways that you’ve grown, all of the ways that you’re still growing, all of your strange and special qualities, and all of the people who love you for them.

As I like to say, there’s nothing between the lines — what you see is what you get. But if a summary would be helpful, here’s what I hope you heard:

Believe in yourself and write your own story. There’s only one author.
Set your own priorities. Do what you want. Achieve what you want.
Embrace your fears and become a better version of yourself in the process.
Find people who love you just the way you are. Keep them around.
Be fierce and exceed the expectations the world has for you.
You have one life, one truth, and one voice. Do good with them.

I’m so excited for what the future will bring you as you find your meaning, your purpose, and your pathway. I hope that you’ll keep us updated as you imprint yourselves on the minds and hearts of those who have the honor of meeting and knowing you.

Cheers to your success in the world!

With a doubleheader Commencement on May 27, �ֲ��ý celebrates Class of 2021

Jay Burns — Thu, 27 May 2021 17:02:42 +0000

After fending off curveball after curveball hurled by COVID-19 during 2020–21, the �ֲ��ý community today got a pitch to hit out of the park.

On a breezy bluebird May day, the �ֲ��ý Class of 2021 was able to celebrate an in-person Commencement and all the comforts of its familiar rituals, including words of wisdom and love.

After a year’s absence (2020’s Commencement was entirely virtual, featuring pre-recorded segments), the �ֲ��ý graduation ceremony returned to its familiar stage, the Coram Library Terrace, in front of physically distanced seniors, family, friends, faculty, and staff seated on the Historic Quad.

And as baseball great Ernie Banks once said, “Let’s play two.” To achieve physical distancing, �ֲ��ý did just that, hosting a daytime Commencement doubleheader, two ceremonies on the Historic Quad, one at 9 a.m. and one at 3 p.m.

Two seniors reach out to make a connection during the afternoon Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Each ceremony celebrated half the senior class, which all told numbers 469. (We say “celebrated” not “graduated” due to one of those COVID curveballs, a compressed academic calendar, which means the seniors’ final grades aren’t in yet, so they technically haven’t graduated just yet.)

While there was no real thunder on the partly-cloudy day — Wednesday night’s raucous storms had skedaddled by early Thursday morning — the rumbling power of thunder was invoked by President Clayton Spencer in her welcoming remarks, as she quoted from the poem “A House Called Tomorrow,” by Alberto Ríos, including these four lines:

Make us proud. Make yourself proud.
And those who came before you?

When you hear thunder,
Hear it as their applause.

“You have already made us proud,” Spencer told the seniors. “Now please hear the thunder of our applause.” And boom like that, the audience responded.

‘Something extra special’

“There will always be something extra special about the Class of 2021, with all that you went through together, and the trust you placed in each other and in the college,” Spencer said in her welcome.

Signaling a theme of the day’s remarks, the hard-tested resilience of the Class of 2021, Spencer lauded the seniors’ contributions to �ֲ��ý and to the local community throughout their �ֲ��ý years, and especially during the pandemic.

James Reese, associate dean of students, surveys the scene on May 27, 2021, at his most unusual Commencement in his 44 years at �ֲ��ý. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

“You have knit this campus and community together over the past four years” through their various activities and “remarkable intellectual accomplishments.”“Over the past 15 months, the world has taught us all lessons that we didn’t sign up for and probably wouldn’t have chosen,” she said.

During the pandemic year of 2020–21, she said, “your flexibility, your solid efforts — at least until recently — to follow irksome public health guidelines” (a humorous nod to the spread of another communicable phenomenon, spring fever, in recent days), “and your perseverance allowed us to keep the college operating safely, and your lives moving forward, in the face of some pretty high hurdles.”

President Clayton Spencer congratulates a member of the Class of 2021 during the morning Commencement on May 27, 2021. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

Along with praise came an acknowledgement that the pandemic, and the public-health response to it, had diminished their college experience, creating extreme stress and difficulty. Students had so much less of �ֲ��ý at their fingertips this year. Some had experienced the deeper distress of family deaths from COVID “at a time when you were not able to gather with loved ones to honor and mourn them.”

“For some of you, the love of learning that brought you to �ֲ��ý has been stretched to the breaking point by the pace and pressure of modules, the limitations of Zoom, and the loss of the joy and insight that come from the spontaneity of being actually, physically present with classmates on a journey together with a fabulous professor.”

Still, she said, the life lessons learned during the pandemic, however hard-earned, “may stick with you longer than the things we thought we were here to teach you and that you thought you came here to learn.”

A senior takes a peek at the video monitor on the Coram Terrace during the morning Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

In her benediction, the Rev. Brittany Longsdorf, �ֲ��ý’ multifaith chaplain, offer the hope that, “In the future, when someone asks you about the challenges you’ve faced in your life, you may think of this last year — not with sorrow alone but also with pride and revelation.”

As she traditionally does, Spencer ticked off statistics and facts about the class, whose members are from 38 states and the District of Columbia and from 43 countries besides the U.S. Sixty-five seniors are first-generation students. Thirty-two seniors received honors in their major; two of those completed two honors theses.

Forty percent of the class played a varsity sport. Two received Fulbright Student Awards for 2020–21 (fewer than in past years due to pandemic disruptions), and one earned a prestigious Watson Fellowship.

Still a pandemic

To be sure, markers of the pandemic were still seen everywhere today. Along Alumni Walk, where the seniors gather for the traditional academic procession, �ֲ��ý staff had painted hundreds of pawprints, each 6 feet apart, as another reminder of the physical distancing rule students have lived under for more than a year.

Admission to each ceremony was by ticket only — two tickets per in-person senior — and the seating area in front of Coram Library was enclosed by 112 sections of 7-foot metal crowd-control fencing.

During the morning Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021, a photograph of Rhiannon Giddens is displayed on a large monitor as her honorary degree citation is read. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

Within the enclosure, each senior’s chair was 6 feet from the next, measured just so by the �ֲ��ý grounds crew earlier in the week using purpose-cut sections of PVC trim. The guest seats, meanwhile, were charmingly arranged in groups of two. And, of course, everyone was wearing face coverings. (In a nod to the ubiquity of masks in 2020–21 and the concerns of the current era, the seniors’ traditional ivy stone design features a COVID mask, Bobcat, and a Black power fist.)

Because the seating was spread out for physical distancing, the very last row of chairs was a football field away from the Coram stage, back near the flagpole. But binoculars weren’t needed: a large video wall displayed with LED clarity the day’s four-camera livestream.

Bobcat pawprints were painted 6 feet apart on Alumni Walk to remind seniors, and the feet, to stay physically distanced as they gathered for the procession on May 27, 2021. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Echoes of 2020

As joyous as the day was, echoes remained of the Class of 2020’s experience, including its hasty departure last March and a virtual Commencement. (The college plans to welcome the class back when health guidelines allow.)

Michael Murray, the Charles Franklin Phillips Professor of Economics, carries the mighty �ֲ��ý mace during the morning Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

The senior member of the �ֲ��ý faculty, Michael Murray, the Charles Franklin Phillips Professor of Economics, carries the mighty �ֲ��ý mace at the head of the academic procession at Commencement. Last year, the “procession,” just Murray and a few others, was pre-recorded on a nearly-empty Quad for the virtual program.

When he carries the mace, Murray, who has acted in a number of �ֲ��ý theater productions, imagines performing for an audience. Last year, as he walked, he imagined “all the seniors who I knew who should have been here.”

A significant difference

While many elements of the a.m. and p.m. ceremonies were the same, there was one striking difference (besides an entirely different cast of seniors and guests!): two different senior speakers.

Layla Dozier ’21 of the Bronx, N.Y., celebrates Commencement during the morning ceremony on May 27, 2021. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

Both coincidentally from Zimbabwe, Nicole Kumbula ’21 addressed the A–K group in the morning, and Munashe Machoko ’21 spoke to the L–Z cohort in the afternoon.

Kumbula invoked the �ֲ��ý custom of holding the door for a fellow �ֲ��ý person. The custom is practical — without some help, “that sandwich box the other person is holding could fall into the snow.” It’s also symbolic, of “someone willing to wait a bit, just to make sure the door is open wide enough so that I can enter into the space with them — or at times even before they do.”

Nicole Kumbula ’21 of Chinhoyi, Zimbabwe, delivers her Senior Address during the morning Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

Even when �ֲ��ý doors were shut tight during the strictest part of the COVID lockdown last summer, which Kumbula spent on campus, she felt connected to her community by joining with others to make handmade face coverings for the essential �ֲ��ý campus workers. “This gave us purpose and something to look forward to once every week.”

Machoko described the resilience that he learned at �ֲ��ý before and during the pandemic, “the ability to know that whatever I might be going through, no matter how unfamiliar, I will certainly figure it out, and so will each and every one of my graduating peers here with me today.”

His coursework paid dividends, he added, because it was spiced with the “camaraderie, collaboration, and mutual respect that make �ֲ��ýies special.”

Munashe Machoko ’21 of Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe, delivers his Senior Address during the afternoon Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

Watch the full morning Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021

Watch the full afternoon Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021

The pandemic necessitated remote presentation of the day’s four honorary degrees. But what may have been lost by not having the honorands present was gained by another difference in this year’s ceremony.

Rather than one honorand delivering a single Commencement address, each offered recorded video remarks that were poignant and pointed, in which the settings themselves underscored the message.

Chase Strangio

Chase Strangio is an ACLU lawyer and trans-rights activist who has been a crucial force behind the most important U.S. Supreme Court victories for LGBTQ rights in the past decade.

A senior poses with President Clayton Spencer for the Commencement photographer during the afternoon Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

He recorded his remarks from his New York City apartment, noting that while it feels “bizarre to be wearing this regalia and speaking to you from my Queens apartment, it also feels quintessentially right now.”

“There are things so fragmented about living in 2021. But there are also things so internally fragmenting about major life transitions and all of the expectations that come with them…. Whatever comes next for each of you, you’ll undoubtedly take with you the lesson that struck me most from the past year: We truly never know what’s coming.”

He said,

When I graduated from college in 2004, two things I knew for sure were that I would never become a lawyer and I would never live in New York City. Yet here I am speaking to you from my home in New York City, where I’ve lived for more than a decade, practicing law….I keep surprising myself. And that’s one of the gifts of being alive, I have found. I find comfort in living in contradiction, accepting that I definitely don’t know what’s coming, and hoping to meet others and myself with grace, as we all continue to navigate the nonstop project of learning that comes with being human and alive.

In conferring his citation, Spencer said:

Activist and advocate, challenger and champion,
You carry the standard and raise the bar for justice and visibility
Crafting a better future by breaking with an unjust past.

Family and friends cheer the seniors during the afternoon Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2021. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Vanessa German

Vanessa German recorded her remarks from her , the community creativity center in the Homewood neighborhood of Pittsburgh. The building was seriously damaged by a Feb. 14 fire.

“When Art House was on fire, some of my best friends in the city came and they just stood by me,” she said. Unfortunately we had to stand and watch the house burn. But I have so much gratitude for them. You’re going to need people to stand by you and be in support of you.”

Then she did a twirl in her cap and gown, “channeling Megan Thee Stallion,” before continuing her remarks about being kind to one’s self: “I’m graduating into the triumph of loving my whole self wholly.”

German said,

There is so much subtle, generative, creative, powerful information swimming around us all the time. And inside of that powerful, magical information are gems of love and gems of deep endurance that are for us. So as you go forward into the world [think] about how you can fully inhabit your humanity and every day, inhabiting the fullness of the miracle of your humanity with as much wisdom and guts and honesty and heart and body and soul as you can muster.

In conferring German’s degree, Spencer said:

You are the power figure, the poem, the purpose —
Focusing our attention and widening our perspective
Ensuring that art is for — and by — and in celebration of — one and all.

James Mortimer ’21 of Sudbury, Mass., looks at his diploma case after receiving congratulations from President Spencer during the afternoon Commencement ceremony on May 27, 2027. Due to the compressed academic calendar, the seniors’ final grades aren’t in yet, so they will receive their diplomas in June. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

Yvon Chouinard

Patagonia founder Yvon Chouinard, who was born in Lewiston, delivered his recorded remarks in front of a bright white background, an austere presentation that underscored the simplicity of his message, the state of “our home planet. If you find yourself getting depressed about [climate change], then do something.”

Chouinard said,

Climate change is trumping all other problems that we have. David Brower, the environmentalist, said that there’s no business to be done on a dead planet. There’s probably nothing else to be done on a dead planet. I….believe in karma. If you do good work, then good things will happen to you. So I wish all of you graduates the best of luck in doing something about the state of our home planet.

In conferring Chouinard’s degree, Spencer said:

From the humble Androscoggin to the mighty Pacific
You have scaled peaks both topographical and commercial
Giving 100 percent of your passion
For people and planet.

Professor of Chemistry and Biochemistry Paula Schlax displays a Dr. Anthony Fauci action figure holding the word “Congratulations” prior to the morning Commencement procession on May 27, 2021. Fauci received an honorary degree from �ֲ��ý in 1993. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Rhiannon Giddens

Rhiannon Giddens, who recorded her remarks at home in Ireland, is a bluegrass and Americana musician and ethnomusicologist who has peeled back the layers of a historical fraud, the whitewashing of country music’s origins.

She said she felt a connection with �ֲ��ý, noting that Oberlin, her undergraduate college, “is a kind of sister school to �ֲ��ý with its tradition of activism. This is a really lovely connection for me in a lot of ways.”

Giddens said:

As you go out into this uncertain future, I encourage you to find those people who can support you through the challenges, who can give you the ideas and the inspiration and the encouragement to get up off of the floor, who will give you a hand, who don’t ask, “Why are you down there?” but who just say, “Come on, I was down there yesterday, let’s figure out what we’re going to do together. Find those people, find that energy, because what we all need going forward is the idea that we’re holding each other up.

In conferring Giddens’ degree, Spencer said:

Across years and continents
Between sense of self and the perceptions of the wider world
You find truth in both major and minor keys
Mining meaning from music.

‘You can always return’

At the conclusion of each Commencement ceremony, Longsdorf delivered the benediction. None of us who attended both ceremonies minded hearing it twice:

May you feel in your soul all that you have gained and all that you have added to this place. May you sense in your bones the resilience and courage that has nestled inside of you in your time here. May you know in your heart that this is a home you can always return to.

With that, it was a doubleheader Commencement sweep, a hard-earned win for the home team.

Both from Zimbabwe, Commencement’s two Senior Speakers also have compelling stories in common

Mary Pols — Fri, 21 May 2021 16:06:25 +0000

It’s never easy, picking a senior to speak at Commencement, a tradition started by President Clayton Spencer.

Any senior can submit a speech; from all submissions, upwards of two dozen some years, a committee of seniors, staff and faculty select several finalists to deliver their speeches in person.

And always, says Kerry O’Brien, committee member and assistant dean of the faculty, there are “many resonant, heartfelt speeches that capture the senior experience.”

Commencement Day Livestream

The two 2021 Commencement ceremonies will be publicly livestreamed for all to watch:

�ֲ��ý Website: /commencement/live/ (via Facebook embed)
Facebook:

The spring of 2021, hard on so many levels, did make the committee’s choice slightly easier though.

That’s because Commencement 2021, in adherence to physical distancing guidelines established for COVID-19, is happening in two parts on May 27, the first half of the class (divided by alphabet) graduating at 9 a.m. and the second at 3 p.m., opening the doors to not one Senior Speaker, but two.

By coincidence, the two speakers selected share not just their interest in the sciences (both are STEM majors) and their international status, but they are from the same country: Zimbabwe.

And both speakers, Nicole Kumbula and Munashe Machoko, will tell “compelling stories that are personal and universal, capturing the deep value of the �ֲ��ý experience,” says O’Brien.

Kumbula, a chemistry major, will go first, and touch on the wonder of her early days at �ֲ��ý, starting with her first trip down the stairs at the Portland Jetport to see a driver there, holding a sign with her name on it and ready to bring her to Lewiston, a place she had only visited through images and imagination.

Senior Speaker Nicole Kumbula ’21 is a chemistry major from Chinhoyi, Zimbabwe. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Kumbula attended the prestigious Monte Cassino Girls High School in an eastern province of Zimbabwe, almost a five-hour drive from her home in the town of Chinhoyi. At Monte Cassino, she studied mathematics, physics, and chemistry and as school progressed, began to plan a path to college in the U.S..

During an internship at the U.S. Embassy’s education advising offices, one of her duties was organizing college fairs. That’s where she first saw the words “�ֲ��ý College,” on a cap worn by Kudzaiishe Irene Mapfunde ‘19, a fellow Zimbabwean who was home for the summer and staffing the �ֲ��ý table. “I remember she was wearing this African print, it was colorful, it was orange, but she had a �ֲ��ý cap,” Kumbula says.

A friend who graduated from Amherst encouraged her to look at NESCAC schools, including �ֲ��ý. She looked into financial aid. “I was looking for a school that offers financial aid to international students,” she says, since relatively few U.S. colleges and universities do. She was accepted to �ֲ��ý, Early Decision, on Dec. 17, 2017. “So that was a good Christmas,” she says.

At �ֲ��ý, one of her first courses was a newly created First-Year Seminar on race, gender, and identity in STEM, taught by Aleksander Diamond-Stanic, an assistant professor of physics who was also her first-year adviser.

He made a recommendation that she considers crucial in her adaptation to life at an American college as a Black woman. She was trying to figure out how to get a bank account, a phone, even how to understand American food, but also had larger questions about America. “I was asking him all these questions,” Kumbula says. “And he advised me to take a sociology or a psychology class so I can understand the social setup of the U.S.”

The international community at �ֲ��ý was supportive and so were the Africana club and her Africana Big Sisters and Big Brothers. She also made a best friend, Roman Hudgins ‘21, whose family in Winchester, Mass., has welcomed her into their home for holidays and breaks during her time at �ֲ��ý (getting back to Zimbabwe, always a financial and logistical challenge, became impossible during the pandemic). “I really appreciated Roman’s mom,” Kumbula says.

A major theme of Kumbula’s speech is gratitude, including faculty mentors, who she’ll describe as “the amazing women in STEM who believed in me even in times when I did not believe in myself.”

She recalls how worrying about grades was “getting in the way of actually understanding the material” and Geneviève Robert, an associate professor of earth and climate sciences, was particularly helpful. Kumbula had grown close to Robert when the two traveled to Missouri to run viscosity experiments in summer 2019.

Kumbula gives her professor “so much credit” for giving her advice about managing her classes and assignments without panicking about having a less than perfect grade at any given time. “It took a whole year of her telling me, ‘It is OK Nicole, it’s OK, this is what you should do.’” And it worked, Kumbula says. “Ever since I let go of that obsession over the grades, my grades started going higher.”

After a long-delayed visit back to Zimbabwe after Commencement, Kumbula will return to the U.S. to begin graduate work in environmental chemistry at Texas A&M Corpus Christi, at the Harte Research Institute for Gulf of Mexico Studies. “I’m on a Ph.D. journey,” she says. “I want to be an environmental chemist because I want to make sure that women and children in sub-Saharan Africa are able to have a clean and healthy environment.”

Munashe Machoko, the afternoon Commencement speaker, says he didn’t even know until far into the process that Kumbula was also submitting a speech. “But for me,” he says. “ I feel like it just worked out perfectly that we both got it.”

Munashe Machoko ’21 is a biochemistry major Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

The biochemistry major, with a minor in math, is from Chitungwiza, Zimbabwe’s third largest city. It’s about a three-hour drive from Kumbula’s hometown. They met after he saw her in the Class of 2021 Facebook group. He’d just come back from China, where he’d been on a scholarship for the International Baccalaureate high school program, so he went over to visit her at her embassy office.

His road to �ֲ��ý began at an admissions event in China. “�ֲ��ý sounded perfect,” Machoko says. He was looking for a small school where he could have close relationships with professors.

But it took him a while to understand that �ֲ��ý was in Maine and what that might mean for his future winters, which were chillier than he even expected, and which he’ll talk about in his speech. “I knew about New York City and Chicago and D.C.,” he says, laughing. “But nothing about Maine.”

His summers have been packed with internships since he arrived at �ֲ��ý. After first year, he did computational neuroscience work with Assistant Professor of Neuroscience Michelle Greene, an experience he found eye opening. “It was like, ‘Wait a second, so we can actually use computers to address the things that we’re seeing in life sciences? That is cool.’ And I’ve just been stuck on that ever since.”

He’s had two internships at Massachusetts General Hospital, the second a remote gig working on a project for screening for COVID-19. “That was really cool.”

Machoko and Kumbula, holding the Zimbabwe flag, walk toward Hathorn Hall for a portrait. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

His senior thesis, which he hopes to be binding on Sunday, is a computational approach to studying the virus, “using a computer algorithm to look at this structure of the coronavirus itself and try to identify possible areas of it on which it’s more realistic or more effective to develop a vaccine on.”)

Mass General has extended a job offer to him and he’ll start there in August, joining an interdisciplinary public health team. “I’m really grateful for the opportunity,” he says, adding with a smile that he hopes to “stick around the U.S. for a little while,” where opportunities for work in research labs abound. “There are very few countries that have as good funding for research.”

He’ll spend the summer studying for the MCATs, the grueling, day-long test for medical school, which he plans to enroll in, eventually. “I also want to volunteer and get to know the Lewiston community better before I leave for Boston in July.”

And when he leaves for Boston in the summer, he’ll take with him the memory of how the �ֲ��ý community came together to figure out how to stay on task, and together, during the pandemic.

“To me, that’s the power of a �ֲ��ý education,” he will say at his Commencement. “The ability to know that whatever I might be going through, no matter how unfamiliar, I will certainly figure it out, and so will each and everyone of my graduating peers here with me.”

Convocation remarks: President Clayton Spencer

Clayton Spencer — Fri, 08 Sep 2017 17:28:36 +0000

"I cannot remember a time in my professional experience when matters of context and principle have intruded so insistently into the project of teaching the next generation of students."

Walter Washington ’19 welcomes the Class of 2021 at Convocation

�ֲ��ý News — Fri, 08 Sep 2017 17:14:35 +0000

Text of the 2017 Convocation Welcome by �ֲ��ý College Student Government President Walter Washington ’19 delivered on Sept. 5:

Good morning, and welcome to the 2017—2018 academic year. Greetings to all faculty, staff, returning students, and, most importantly, to the Class of 2021! Congratulations, you are all officially Bobcats!

It was not too long ago, two years specifically, that I sat in the very seats you all are sitting in right now. I remember it was a pretty hot day ,and as I sat there in the heat, listening to all the speakers tell us how life-changing these next four years would be, I somehow could not keep my mind off how much I missed my mom and her home cooking. What was also running through my mind was, how in the world was I supposed to navigate these next four years: manage to get straight A’s, make friends, play football, sleep, and find time to get involved, all while trying to make my law school application more compelling than the next? I’ll be honest, I had no idea how, but what became apparent to me was that not knowing was okay, and that it would take time to adjust.

How in the world was I supposed to navigate these next four years: manage to get straight A’s, make friends, play football, sleep, and find time to get involved, all while trying to make my law school application more compelling than the next?

What I can spend time speaking to you about today is how my academic life somehow intertwined with my social life here at �ֲ��ý; how my First-Year Seminar, “Searching for the Good Life,” with Professor Michael Sargent, changed my overall outlook on life’s journey; and how Constitutional Law with my adviser, Professor Stephen Engel, reinforced my desire to continue a career immersing myself in law and politics. But what I want to talk to you about today places �ֲ��ý somewhat in the background.

Let’s go back to the summer of 2014, when I was a rising senior in high school. I was ecstatic not only because I was on my way to becoming a senior, but also because I was transferring to a beautiful boarding school in Readfield, Maine. I spent the summer training, getting ready for football season, when my family’s life took an unexpected turn. I found out that my mother was diagnosed with cancer.

I have five siblings. I am the youngest, and with such a close-knit family, you could imagine the heartbreak that this brought upon us. I watched my mother, my entire life, give so much of herself to ensure that everyone else was taken care of. And to be completely honest, I was angry that, out of all people, this had to happen to my mother, someone so genuine and kind. I immediately told my parents that I wasn’t going to transfer, and they told me in no uncertain terms that I was given an opportunity and that I was going to take it.

Walter Washington ’19 of Fleetwood, N.Y., president of the �ֲ��ý College Student Government, gives the welcome address to the Class of 2021 during Convocation. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

I went through my senior year trying to focus on school as much as I possibly could, but everything in me just wanted to be back home with my mom. With cancer, there comes chemotherapy, radiation, hospital stays, doctor visits, and all of that costs a pretty penny, and meanwhile, I have a $52,000 boarding school education to worry about.

There were times when I got called into the business office, and they told me if my parents couldn’t keep up with the payments, that I would be kicked out of school, and for a senior applying to colleges, you could imagine how difficult that would be. Back home, my mother’s health was deteriorating, and the one thing I wanted was for her to see me graduate. She did and was able to watch me go through my freshman year of college.

Fast forward to sophomore year, and her good days were off and on. Luckily, she was able to string together a few good days during the fall to come up during Parents Weekend. In that weekend, she watched her son sing a solo in his newly-joined a cappella group and the next day watch him register his first college sack against Williams. That was a pretty awesome weekend.

The winter came, and it was pretty tough, as she was again great for a few days and then back in the hospital days later. We spent Christmas in the hospital as she had another surgery. The new year arrives, and I hear a lot from my parents in the month of January, telling me that things are looking great after my mom’s second surgery, and she’s stringing together consistent good days.

To make a very long story short, February comes along, and on a random Wednesday, I get a call from my mother asking me if I was sitting down. She tells me that she had a visit to her doctor, they ran all of these tests, and they couldn’t find any more cancer in her body.

There is no way, absolutely no way, that I could have persevered through such an ordeal without being a part of the community that is �ֲ��ý.

An amazing miracle, but I’m sure you are truly wondering, how does �ֲ��ý fit into that story? I’ll tell you. There is no way, absolutely no way, that I could have persevered through such an ordeal without being a part of the community that is �ֲ��ý.

My coaches became more than just coaches, but a supportive resource for me outside of my academics, Jessica Perez, my student support advisor, was always willing to talk and made herself available for whatever I needed, and I couldn’t forget my two best friends, Nolan Burgos and Brandon Galloway, who quickly became my brothers, always around — not only for conversation and a good laugh, but they constantly challenged me to be the best possible person and not let such a situation define my time here. �ֲ��ý is more than just a college. It’s an accepting, strong, encouraging community and filled with people that you will someday call your family.

On a larger scale, the true moral of that story is that in the midst of all of the success, joy, and accomplishments you will have here at �ֲ��ý, I guarantee you that there will also be times where you feel like you cannot keep going. When that problem set becomes too difficult to complete, when each of your professors are all assigning homework as if theirs is the only class you have, or when it’s finals week and your nights sleeping in Pettingill Hall are still not long enough to help you retain all the material for that terrifying cumulative exam. But take a moment, and look at the people to your left and to your right. This place, the people sitting right next to you, the relationships, friendships and extended family you will make during your next four years here — it is that that makes this place so special.

�ֲ��ý is more than just a college, it’s an accepting, strong, encouraging community and filled with people that you will someday call your family.

My freshman year, I knew this kid who was a shell of himself; he was quiet, he joined no clubs, didn’t go to Gala, and he was terrified to walk into the jungle that is Commons. I say that for all of you to understand that where you are right now, captivated by those feelings of excitement, anxiousness, and probably a pinch of fear, are all perfectly okay. More importantly, I guarantee you that those feelings will someday fade, because that same terrified, uninvolved, quiet freshman, joined an a capella group, got involved within a few committees, became student body president, and now has the fortuitous opportunity to begin his junior year, speaking to all of you.

It was Mark Twain who said, “Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do rather than the things you did do.” So, as you go through this four-year journey, I challenge you all to explore, travel, take that class, dance with your Commons crush at Gala, and do the very thing that even your wildest of dreams cannot have you do, because this is the place for it.

Walter Washington ’19 of Fleetwood, N.Y., president of the �ֲ��ý College Student Government, talks with President Clayton Spencer before processing on the Historic Quad for Convocation 2017 (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

As you experience all of the great things that this place has to offer, I leave you will three final tips. One: call the people you love. They are worried about you and are expecting a call. Two: do your laundry on Mondays. Everyone does it during the weekend. You will have to wait forever for a dryer. And lastly, make sure you actually go to class. There is often no more than 30 students in each, so trust me, your professors will know when you aren’t there.

Your next four years here are not just the clichéd learning experience, opportunity, or a time for you to carry out the liberal arts mission. Your next four years here are the definition of a truly unique journey. As you go through this journey, allow �ֲ��ý to help you define yourself, and take the time to not only use �ֲ��ý to catapult you into your future, but as a fundamental cornerstone of your right now. Explore, dream, go out change the world, because this is the place for it. Once again, welcome to �ֲ��ý, and we are so proud to welcome you into your new family. Thank you.

�ֲ��ý’ memorial tree planting embraces the ‘sacred tension’ of gratitude and grief

Emily McConville — Fri, 08 Sep 2017 16:25:24 +0000

At Convocation, the �ֲ��ý community looks forward to the new academic year, surrounded by the college’s beech, ash, and pine trees, some of them more than a century old.

Following this year’s ceremony, a service held near the Class of 1929 Gate honored 17 faculty and staff who had died in the past year, in whose memory a young red oak was planted.

A memorial service as part of Convocation — to acknowledge grief and loss while welcoming new people — has been a �ֲ��ý tradition for 20 years.

During the service, Multifaith Chaplain Brittany Longsdorf invited faculty, staff, students, friends, and family to come forward to a bowl filled from Lake Andrews. Those who did collected and poured water cupful by cupful onto the soil around the tree, to keep it healthy and strong.

Members of the �ֲ��ý community participate in a memorial service near the Class of 1929 Gate immediately following the Convocation on Tuesday. A red oak was planted in memory of those in the �ֲ��ý community who died during the past year.

“The community that’s gone and the community that’s just arriving — it’s actually a beautiful gesture to say, dead or alive, you’re still a part of the �ֲ��ý community,” Longsdorf says.

The trees surrounding the memorial red oak sapling are — like the �ֲ��ý community — young and old, short and tall, of many different kinds. Many are themselves memorial trees.

The tradition was started in 1997 by College Chaplain Kerry Maloney, who is now Harvard Divinity School’s chaplain and director of religious and spiritual life.

“I wanted to tie so many holy endings to the great holy beginning of each new academic year,” Maloney says.

“We embrace this complexity, this sacred tension between grateful remembrance and grief.”

Landscape architect Bill Bergevin, who selected and planted the red oak about three weeks ago, will continue to water the sapling until it’s ready to thrive on its own. In the next 60 years or more, it will grow tall like the older trees surrounding it. Friends and family of those departed can return to it. Students will pass it daily; they might lean against it to read books, or escape underneath it for shade.

During that time, the tree will become part of the �ֲ��ý community, while it stands as a sign of the pain of loss and of the joy of remembrance, says Longsdorf.

“We embrace this complexity, this sacred tension between grateful remembrance and grief,” she said during the ceremony. “Thus we water new life in the form of a small tree, embracing that complexity and embracing the hope that we continue to honor our colleagues’ memory and presence that lingers still.”

The faculty and staff whose lives are commemorated by the red oak are: Robert P. Bowen Sr., John W. Creasy, Roger C. Dutil, Kenneth Fitzherbert, James G. Hepburn, Yvette A. LaChapelle, Marcia A. Makris, Bernice I. Michel, Kenneth Moore, Germaine J. Morin, Margaret T. Nichols, Marcy Plavin, Judy Rosen, Paul M. Szott, Kate L. Vale, and Beatrice C. Verville.

Slideshow: Click the kaleidoscope and see the Class of 2021 everywhere

�ֲ��ý News — Fri, 08 Sep 2017 15:32:06 +0000

Carrie Murphey ’06, assistant dean of students for first-year programs, likens the experience of Orientation to a kaleidoscope.

“If one thing isn’t fitting quite right, or they’re feeling like, ‘Hmmm, not quite sure how this feels,’ they have lots of opportunities and lots of clicks of the kaleidoscope to see themselves in other parts of �ֲ��ý,” she says.

Photographers Phyllis Graber Jensen and Theophil Syslo followed members of the Class of 2021 for much of Orientation, as they walked Lewiston, learned about the importance of reasoned inquiry, and spent their days and nights in the woods, on a farm, or at sports practice.

The clicks of the kaleidoscope started Tuesday, Aug. 29, as the new students met advisers in various First-Year Seminars, continued with off-campus AESOP trips and on-campus varsity sports practices late in the week, then returned to campus for Tuesday’s Convocation and the start of classes on Wednesday.

Jaelene Perez '20 of the Bronx, Precious Johnson '20 of Chicago, and Jesus Carrera '20 of Waco, Texas, pose for student photographer Alexandria Onuoha '20 of Malden, Mass., during the OIE reception. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Wednesday, Sept. 6: Catching up at the OIE's reception, from left, are John Collantes '18 of Park Ridge, Ill., Sally Ceesay '18 of the Bronx, Jeanne Hua '18 of Honolulu, and Frederick Cheng '18 of San Leandro, Calif. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Wednesday, Sept. 6: Brooke Drabkin '18 of Roslyn Heights, N.Y., (facing camera) hugs Cash Huynh '18 of New Orleans during an Office of Intercultural Education reception held to welcome the Class of 2021 and give returning faculty, staff, and students a chance to connect and reconnect. (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Wednesday, Sept. 6: Students listen to a discussion about the "Odyssey" during the first lesson of Lisa Maurizio’s First-Year Seminar, “Classical Myths and Contemporary Art.” Students in the course “explore the ways in which myths give members of a society, whether ancient or modern, meaningful tools to describe and explore issues, values, and conflicts.” (Phyllis Graber Jensen/�ֲ��ý College)

Tuesday, Sept. 5: After Convocation, Marshall Vale pours a cup of water from Lake Andrews on the soil around a red oak sapling near the Class of 1929 Gate. Each year, a memorial tree is planted to honor members of the �ֲ��ý community who have died in the past year. Marshall Vale’s wife Katie Vale, college librarian and vice president for information and library services, died in December. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

2017 Convocation address: ‘Summer Posts, Fall Possibilities,’ by Professor of Sociology Emily Kane

�ֲ��ý News — Thu, 07 Sep 2017 21:25:19 +0000

Text of the 2017 Convocation address, “Summer Posts, Fall Possibilities,” by Professor of Sociology Emily Kane, delivered on Sept. 5: Good morning everybody. It’s an honor to be here, to welcome new students to the college and to the new academic year, to welcome the brand new faculty members joining us today, and to welcome back returning students, faculty, and staff. I know all of you out there in the Class of 2021 and the transfer students from other class years have heard a chorus of welcomes lately. I hope the one I’m about to offer can add a little bit of a new angle. So here’s what I’m going to do- to get started, I’ll tell you about just seven of the many posts that have shown up on my social media feed and in my e-mail over the summer.

First, a fellow sociologist shared a blog post she wrote that has 14,000 likes on Facebook, with 21 tips for the incoming college Class of 2021. They’re great tips, I’d love to read them all to you right now, but I’m headed somewhere else with these anecdotes, so please just bear with me for a bit.
I also had beautiful summertime photographs come my way, from someone with a remarkable eye; she sent close-ups of freshly picked strawberries and haunting images of pathways through the deep woods, composed to draw the viewer into an appreciation of the vibrancy of the world around us.
In another post, an activist environmental writer sent news of her recent invitation to give a TED talk about the toxic legacy of plastics, sharing the excitement and also the fear inspired by the chance to engage such a critical public health issue both live and for a potentially endless digital audience.
I had an update from a talented writer, who told me about some very difficult life questions he’s been struggling with, and their intersections with long conversations he and I have had in the past; this e-mail brought me to tears through the honesty, vulnerability, and piercing insight of the writing.
I also heard from a scholar-activist who studies political violence, who asked me to contribute to a bank of resources to help faculty advocate for undocumented students at this time of alarming changes to US policy, a resource bank they updated again in August in the aftermath of white supremacist violence in Charlottesville.
Another post included adorable pictures of a 3-year-old throwing out a pitch and high-fiving Slugger the mascot at a Portland Sea Dogs minor league baseball game, just one of many amusing summer adventures for this special kiddo’s family.
And the final one I’ll share this morning is an update I got about a fellow sociologist’s keynote address at a conference promoting equity in the construction trades, focused on how to expand inclusion for women, people of color and LGBTQ workers in jobs that pay a sustainable wage.

So why am I listing all of these things off? You might wonder if maybe I just grabbed some random Facebook posts and e-mails to get out of coming up with something to say to you this morning. But I’ve got a reason, I promise — all of these summer updates have a connection to everyone here, because everything I listed came from former students who graduated at least five years ago, and some as far as 20 or more years back. All of them are people whose senior thesis I advised, all of them took multiple courses of mine, and all of them started college as strangers to me. For whatever reason, they picked a course I happened to teach. A few of you students out there will still be in touch with me 5 or 10 or 20-plus years from now, and whoever you are, I look forward to meeting you soon. But more importantly, I hope all of you will be in touch with one or more of your �ֲ��ý professors for years to come.

That’s one of the joys of working here: Every year brings a new group of strangers with fresh energy and fresh ideas to our campus.

Every faculty member sitting out there with you has their own stories of former students with whom they’ve developed lasting relationships, connections forged in learning together and sharing a passion for a particular set of topics and commitments in the world. And like me, all of those other professors got started on forming those relationships by watching strangers arrive on campus as new students. Whether you are a professor or a student, right here, sitting within 10 or 20 yards of you, are strangers who will eventually become very special to you. That’s one of the joys of working here: Every year brings a new group of strangers with fresh energy and fresh ideas to our campus. And here we are now, coming together on the day before classes begin for the new academic year, constituting a refreshed and renewed �ֲ��ý because of everything that you bring with you. Your energy and insights, your talents and life experiences, bring us all a world of new possibilities. Over the summer, while I was enjoying those updates from inspiring former students (and there were many, many more beyond those I shared), you were getting ready to come join us here on campus. And of course one task in that summer prep was to pick out the courses you wanted to take this fall. I bet you pored through the options pretty carefully, and maybe you thought about the professor, but I think it’s more likely you thought about the topics of those courses, each of you picking your own unique combination of subjects you wanted to explore as part of your broad liberal arts education. As you were picking out those courses, we were busy back here too. �ֲ��ý professors were researching in our labs, creating in our studios, advocating with organizations promoting the public good, gathering evidence in archives or in the field, crunching numbers, writing articles and books, and pursuing all sorts of ideas and action in the many fields we are so passionate about. We were also preparing courses, our paths beginning to cross with yours as we watched members of the incoming class pop up on our online enrollment lists. But you were just names, strangers with whom we would soon share our passion for those many fields.

Professor of Sociology Emily Kane gestures while delivering the Convocation Address on the Historic Quad on Sept. 5, 2017. (Theophil Syslo/�ֲ��ý College)

So now it’s time for all of that to really unfold. Throughout move-in and Orientation, I know that you new students have met some of the amazing staff members with whom you’ll also develop transformative relationships. From Dining Services and Facility Services to the Student Affairs staff and the Registrar’s office, from the Harward Center to the Office of Intercultural Education, from Athletics to the College Store and to so many more, these people will be part of your journey at �ֲ��ý, and you will become part of theirs. You’ve taken a walking tour around Lewiston, and I hope all of you will continue to enjoy the rich history, striking architecture, many cultures and faiths, activities, shops, and restaurants, as well as the natural beauty that your community has to offer. This is your home now in many ways, and you should get out there and get to know it if you aren’t already from right nearby. And for some of you, I know from long experience that you’ll build some of the most transformative relationships of all by getting even more deeply involved in this community: by working with, learning from, and living alongside the many local community members you’ll meet and the many local community initiatives with which you’ll participate.

We’re also eager to see how you engage and transform our campus with your fresh energy and perspectives.

But my main focus this morning is the faculty angle on all of this, so I especially want to emphasize new relationships with the professors you meet in your courses — the First-Year Seminar that has already met, and the other courses that begin tomorrow and Thursday. Maybe already, maybe tomorrow, but definitely over time, you’ll begin to find the particular faculty members with whom you’ll forge those especially deep bonds. I hope you’re eager to get into the classroom, to get started learning with and from your new professors. And we’re eager for that too. We’re also eager to see how you engage and transform our campus with your fresh energy and perspectives, joining with classmates who’ve been here longer to keep pushing for all that �ֲ��ý College aspires to be. You’ll throw yourselves into local politics, create art, start organizations and teams or help sustain and transform existing ones, protest inequities and injustices you see right here on our campus and beyond, keeping all of us accountable to our best ideals at this deeply troubling time. As you do all that, you’ll find support from particular professors and staff members, from the broader community, and from your peers, but you will also provide support to all of those people, bringing your own talents and passions into the story of �ֲ��ý and the story of Lewiston. I hope that for many of you new students, the people and places you’ve encountered during Orientation so far have left you excited and hopeful about your future at �ֲ��ý. But I also know this is a time of complex emotions, a potent mix of anticipation and anxiety, of new possibilities and sadness for what you’ve left behind, of excitement and loneliness and disappointing moments. We’ll all have good times and tough challenges in the year ahead, and it’s a very challenging time in the U.S. and the world. There are lots of faculty, staff, and fellow students who will help you make your way through all of that. But I also know you will offer your own wisdom and energy back to all those other folks as they too navigate life’s complexities and society’s injustices. When I teach a First-Year Seminar, one of the first assignments I give is to ask students to post just three words about Convocation. We discuss those words the next day, and we come back to them again at mid-semester, so we can talk over how the opening excitement is matching up with the more nuanced reality. Several times now, at a reunion I hold for my First-Year Seminar students four years later, just before their graduation, I’ve shared a word cloud of the words they posted, together with some images of their Convocation ceremony. And guess what they say? They say, “What? I don’t remember that assignment!” They don’t really remember much about the specific content of Convocation either. But what they do tend to remember is the feeling of the event, the sense of anticipation and anxiety, that eager readiness to get started. I hope to see many of you new students in my classroom over the next four years, but for the handful of you out there I come to know best, I bet you will be surprised if I remind you that I was the faculty speaker at your Convocation. You will probably say “What? That was you?” But I hope you might vaguely remember feeling a new layer of welcome had been added to the many you’d heard throughout Orientation. And I hope that if I remind you what I talked about, you’ll feel that some of the possibilities I sketched have been realized for you. And of course that’s my hope for all of the faculty and students gathered here today. May you begin, tomorrow and in the semesters to come, to forge new relationships with each other, and among those, find the particularly special ones that will continue on for decades — connections that leave you students wanting to update your former professors on your achievements, your struggles, your moments of joy and your moments of loss, teaching us as much as we taught you. Welcome to you all, thank you for joining us, and best wishes for getting started on those relationships, and all of the other possibilities that lie ahead.