Fairfield University Valedictory Address | Press Releases

Beth Wittenberg, biology major, College of Arts & Sciences, from Mount Sinai, N.Y.

Good morning Father President, members of the Board of Trustees, honored guests, members of the faculty and administration, family, friends, and members of the graduating class of 2006.

Several months ago, following one of Father Carrier's Monday night masses, a handout was given to students. This story comes from the Seattle Special Olympics:

For the 100-yard dash, there were nine contestants, all of them so-called physically or mentally disabled. All nine of them assembled at the starting line and at the sound of the gun, they took off. But one little boy didn't get very far. He stumbled and fell, hurt his knee and began to cry. The other eight children heard the boy crying. They slowed down, turned around, and ran back to him- every one of them ran back to him. One little girl with Down's syndrome bent down and kissed the boy and said, "This will make it better." The little boy got up, and he and the rest of the runners linked arms together and joyfully walked to the finish line. They all finished the race at the same time. And when they did, everyone in the stadium stood up and clapped and whistled and cheered for a long, long time. People who were there are still telling the story with obvious delight. And do you know why? Because deep down we know that what matters in this life is more than winning for ourselves. What really matters is helping others win too, even if it means slowing down and changing our course every now and then.

Now I know many of you are sitting in your seats on this happy occasion thinking that the story of the Seattle Special Olympics is a touching one, while others may be put off by the sugary sentimentality of its message. It contains sentiments that one might expect in a valedictory address at a fine Jesuit University where we have learned the importance of being there for others. This story, however, struck me for another reason: its message of how important it is to change our course every now and then.

The whole notion of "changing course" is indeed frightening. It often means opposing others and going against the status quo to fight for what we believe in; for what we believe to be important and just. We all must admit that it's easy to get wrapped up in everyday life, to effortlessly blend in with our peers, follow the crowd, and seek the American dream. The desire to conform has pertained to all of us at some time in our lives, and I'm sure we have often found it difficult to oppose what was expected of us.

With our desire to conform comes the notion that most of us need to feel significant. Our walls are filled with plaques, awards, and trophies; all to remind us of how wonderful and accomplished we are. This isn't to say we are not deserving of such awards, but we certainly yearn for recognition. Ironically, the way we often choose to be recognized involves not standing out too much. We choose to be like everyone else. We follow our friends. We accept the political and religious beliefs of our families, without ever deciding for ourselves what we think about such issues. We work for the luxuries that society deems important. Herein lies the challenge that we all face as we leave Fairfield. Do we want to be just another face in the crowd? Do we want to do what is expected of us at all times in order to conform? Do we want to be passive in order to be recognized? Or, instead, do we want to challenge ourselves, to think for ourselves and be unlike others, and to make a difference?

When we first arrived at Fairfield our freshman year, we may have had expectations for our college years that differ dramatically from what we've experienced. Some of us arrived here excited to embark on a journey of intellectual or spiritual growth, while others were driven by a newfound independence; the opportunity to break away from our comfort zones. Our first days at Fairfield may have been difficult. Some of us struggled with feelings of homesickness; missing family and friends. On the other hand, many of us reveled in being away, loving the social environment and avoiding all calls home, leaving parents somewhat worried as to our whereabouts. By "changing our course" upon entering college, we opened ourselves up to something new and different; a world outside that we might never have experienced. In some sense, the changes that we've undergone in these past four years will define us for the rest of our lives, and we can only be grateful that we opened ourselves up to this change.

During our sophomore year, many of us began to question ourselves; our beliefs, our goals for the future, the kind of men and women that we ultimately wanted to become. Fairfield University's Ignatian Residential College served to guide many of us through this period of enlightenment. By asking the questions: "Who am I?," "Whose am I?," and "Who am I called to be?," the Ignatian Residential College invigorated students to question themselves, to reflect, and to discover more about themselves and others. Regardless of one's involvement with the Ignatian Residential College, sophomore year was a time that served to build and cement friendships, as well as to continue our intellectual journeys. Our courses, which stressed the Jesuit ideals, taught us to put others before ourselves, and to live for others. Had we not had the opportunity to question ourselves, or the desire to learn more about ourselves, we would not have evolved into the men and women we are today.

For many of us, our junior year epitomized "going against the grain." Remembering back to the second semester of our sophomore year, I recall how badly I had wanted to study abroad in the fall of our junior year. My plans to spend a semester studying in another country were not well-received by my parents. I decided, however, to apply anyway, without their consent, and was quite delighted when I received my acceptance letter into the program at Lorenzo de Medici institute in Florence, Italy. I accepted without the permission of my parents. With some persuasion, I eventually gained the support of my family, and I, like many of you, enjoyed one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

Whether we studied in Ireland, Italy, France, China, the UK, Spain, Australia, or elsewhere, we learned more about ourselves and others in this world than we ever could have imagined. We were offered the opportunity to travel the world, to embrace other customs, foods, and languages. We may have realized that perhaps our passions differ from those of our families. We may have also realized that as privileged individuals who have been afforded unprecedented opportunities, there comes an immense responsibility to the world community. We "changed our course," opened ourselves up to something new and revealing, and consequently are more enlightened and empowered individuals for having done so.

Finally, reunited at Fairfield again for our senior year, we spent our last few months finishing up our courses, building upon past experiences, meeting new friends, and strengthening established friendships. This year served to cement our newfound beliefs, gave us the confidence to be ourselves, and the desire to take what we have learned and put it to good use in the world outside. Now, as we move out of our beach houses, townhouses, or apartments, we must face the world ahead, keeping in mind all that Fairfield has taught us.

We must decide what is meaningful in our lives, to determine how we are going to make a difference, and to find our place in society. We must "change our course" and recognize how important it is to ask questions, form our own opinions, and challenge the majority.

Fairfield University, as a Jesuit Institution, forced us to look at ourselves, to ask questions, and to explore. We were encouraged to become not merely better students, but better people, who live to serve others. It is necessary for us to take this open-mindedness and sense of hope with us. We should no longer be as impressionable as we once were. We have learned to discern which voices to listen to and which to ignore. We must not become slaves to the voices that call us to conform, consume, and cash in on our talents.

If we think back to the story of the Seattle Special Olympics, we must realize that the crowd of people cheering on those young athletes, prior to their turning back to help their injured competitor, were most likely families and friends who wanted their athlete to be the winner of the race. They, in some sense, are not unlike our families and friends, who support our endeavors. Despite the cheers of their supporters, however, those children believed that it was more important to listen to the voices within themselves, to stand by one another, and to challenge the desire for recognition. The crowd, at the end of the story, could not help but be overwhelmed with joy by their acts of kindness.

Friedrich Nietzsche once said, "The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself." And so this is the challenge that I leave you with as we all leave Fairfield today. Be yourself and be sure to "change your course every now and then."