Matt Bolton. Commencement Speech. Page 1
Commencement Speech May 30, 2014 Matt Bolton Thank you, Mr. Lyness, Mr. Oroszlany, Mr. Sheehy, members of the board, parents, faculty members, and students. It is an honor and a privilege to speak to you today. I feel a particular connection to this commencement and to this senior class, not only because, like you seniors, I am closing out my final year at Loyola, but because I have always found you to be a particularly smart, funny, kind, and personable group of individuals. I’ve been lucky enough to teach Freshman English throughout my time at Loyola, and was lucky enough to have taught many of you back when you were fourteen or so. You were smaller then, and quieter, and at the beginning, full of trepidation. If you were given a quiz or a homework assignment, you would ask questions like, “Where it says name, should I include my middle name? Is just an initial okay?” Asked to write a paragraph, you would say “How many sentences should be in each paragraph?” and “Does a question count as a sentence?” and “Can I start a sentence with “and”? During those first few weeks and months, you wanted to get everything just right. But you also had the enthusiasm that seems to be hardwired into all freshmen. You would play any game with gusto, from an organized contest like Jeopardy to some half-baked activity I thought up on the walk upstairs to class. Asked to bring props to class for staging Romeo and Juliet in the Jugyard, you would show up bearing lightsabers, capes, fencing foils, and swords made of paper towel rolls wrapped in tin foil. Later, you would claim that all of this stuff belonged to your little brother, but we knew the truth. The truth is, freshmen throw themselves into group activities with abandon. Put three or four freshmen into a randomly-selected group, and it’s like they have found their long-lost brothers and sisters. Immediately, without fail, they have to give the group a name, and immediately they believe that their group is the best ever. Where does it come from, this combination of earnestness and enthusiasm, of trepidation and joy? Perhaps from a common source: a desire to belong, to be known and accepted, to find a new home away from home. Freshmen bring these same qualities to the books that we read together. They have, as their name implies, a fresh perspective on classic stories. Every year, for example, someone is shocked that Romeo and Juliet don’t end up living happily ever after. And every year, I, too, learn something new about the books I teach, because I’m experiencing them with a new set of readers. Of all the books on our freshman syllabus, the one that most rewards this kind of annual re-reading may be Homer’s Odyssey.
Matt Bolton. Commencement Speech. Page 2
It seems, at first glance, a daunting choice for a ninth-grade class. At 485 pages—not including the maps and notes—The Odyssey is a veritable doorstop of a book. And what relevance does the story of a hot-tempered, duplicitous, philandering middle-aged sailor have for a roomful of 14-year olds anyway? Quite a bit of relevance, I would argue. In the popular imagination, the term “odyssey” suggests a long and adventurous journey. But Odysseus’ journeys take up only a fraction of the epic: just four of its twenty-four books are about his adventures with the Cyclops, the Sirens, and all of those other mythological creatures. And that section is just a flash-back anyway, an entertaining story Odysseus tells to his hosts after dinner. The vast majority of The Odyssey unfolds after the wandering is over. By the midpoint of the book, Odysseus has returned to his home of Ithaca. When he left, years before, he was at the very top of the heap: he was the king of the island, the captain of a ship, the leader of a crew and of a people. Now, nobody knows him from Adam. In other words, Odysseus is a bit like the former eighth grader who’s now the smallest kid in high school, or like a high school senior who is about to be a college freshman. This may be why the book works so well for freshmen: they know what it means to have to re-establish themselves. There’s something thrilling about watching Odysseus, in the guise of a humble traveler, enter into contests and conversations with people who continually underestimate him. In each of these encounters, his words and actions impress the people around him. They routinely ask him variations of this question: “Who are you, stranger, and where have you come from?” Odysseus may be new in town, but he has the benefit of all of his past experiences and adventures. When he was younger, he was always getting himself into trouble: mouthing off to the Cyclops, dallying on strange islands, mis-stepping here and overreaching there. But he has learned from all of this trial-and-error. By the time he arrives on Ithaca, he has developed patience, self-awareness, and an ability to reflect on his plans and actions. In this sense, Odysseus might be the first character in literature who learns from his past experience. I think that your own personal odysseys will be much like this. College will be new and wonderful, but also familiar, in the best sense of the word. After all, you have succeeded as a freshman once before. Think of how much you have grown and learned over the past four years. Think of all of the knowledge and self-knowledge that you now carry with you on your journey. You will not be strangers on your new campuses for long; like Odysseus, you will make your mark, and everyone will want to know who you are, and where you come from. I think that you will do us all proud, when you answer that you came from Loyola School.
Matt Bolton. Commencement Speech. Page 3
Your lives beyond college will likewise be marked by continual renewal and growth. Economists and demographers tell us that the men and women of your generation will hold many different jobs and learn many different skills during your working lives. In her gradat-grad talk of a few weeks ago, Ms. Cerussi talked about the importance of having a growth mindset. People with a growth mindset see themselves as works in progress, rather than finished products. They are willing to take on the humble role of learner. Both in college and beyond, you will find opportunities to keep growing in ways both big and small. Like Odysseus, or like a plucky freshman, you’ll need to take on new endeavors with an equal measure of humility and confidence. As for me, I know that working at a new school and living in a new city will offer both challenges and opportunities. A few months ago, I was asked if I’d like to teach a class next year, and if so, which one. If you’ve ever worked at a school, you know that this kind of blank-check opportunity doesn’t come along very often. So I gave it a lot of thought. Maybe I’d like to teach AP English, or a senior elective. It probably won’t surprise you to learn that I picked… Freshman English. In a year that promises to be full of new experiences, I am looking forward to having the continuity of teaching Freshman English for a sixteenth year. I think it will feel like a little piece of home. And yes, Homer’s Odyssey was already on the syllabus. In closing, I am invoking freshman year not to wax nostalgic or to look back at who you were four years ago. Rather, I do so in order to look forward. I hope that in your long and happy lives, you have many moments like this commencement, in which you are recognized for your years of hard work and your many accomplishments. But I also hope that you seize just as many opportunities to be the proverbial freshman: to throw yourself into a new venture, to discover your untapped talents, to make new friends and form new groups, to once again show the world who you are and where you come from.
Thank you.