Commencement address at Augusta Preparatory School
May 28, 2006
"Average is Not in Your Future"

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to speak with you today. I am keenly aware that you are not a typical high school student body. Average is not in your future. It's abundantly clear to me every time I visit your campus. There's always excitement in the air, a wonderful mixture of frivolousness and gravitas, and fun juxtaposed with plodding toward goals. In the brief time I have with you today, I invite you to consider with me what you as students in this extraordinary school have given up and what you have gained by being here, and what that trade-off means for this community and this country, both now and in the future.

Each of you has already made sacrifices in pursuit of a goal that differs from the mainstream. By choosing to enroll in this school, you have given up the traditional American high school experience. Whatever happens in the rest of your life, average will not be in your future, because you will not have had an average formative experience. Like your peers who are in all other high schools, you still have the option of being a compassionate individual or not, of being successful in a career or not, of being politically involved or not, of being committed to a religious organization or not, of being a useful member of your community or not, of being involved with your family or not.

In short, almost all options are still open to you. But my hope is that you have learned earlier than most of your contemporaries what it means to make a substantial choice. You may never be average, because you will see the world from a perspective that differs from many of the people around you. And when I say that, I don't mean it in the sense that Garrison Keillor lampooned in his fictional town of Lake Woebegone, which prides itself on being a place where "all the children are above average."

Although all of you have shared a wonderful high school tradition, there are nevertheless many, many differences among you all. I celebrate the diversity of your backgrounds and I take pride in the disparity of your interests. Yet as you celebrate these differences you also take on responsibility: responsibility not only to yourselves, to keep the fire of your creativity and exploration burning, but also to your community, to share the light that your talents have enabled.

The ultimate obligation of your scholarly work in whatever community you live is to share with others -- your insights and understanding, your exuberance as well as your thoughtful reflections. For those of you involved in the fine and performing arts, your work will serve to enrich the audiences sharing your vision and to recognize the emotional power, both the uplifting and the tragic, that is woven throughout the fabric of our lives. For those of you focusing on exploration in math and science, your work may have remarkable implications for progress in technology, in health care, in understanding the universe around us, in improving our quality of life, and in making that enhanced ability to enjoy life available to all.

During your journey here, you have had the opportunity to cultivate the seeds of something to share to fruition. If you master the art of self-discipline required to reap the harvest your talent is nurturing to maturity, that in itself will set you apart from many of your peers -- indeed from many adults. Talent is not uncommon, and dreams are plentiful, but the ability to hone talent and to give legs to your dreams through disciplined practice and perseverance in study is a rare commodity. I encourage you to find ways to communicate your awareness of the value of that dedication to the many children in your respective communities who have few or no role models to show the possibilities that can be opened in their lives. Many of them have not had the marvelous opportunities showered upon you. The circumstances of the lives of many of their parents are such that they cannot do more than tend to their children's most urgent needs. What these parents cannot supply, the community must, both for the development of those children, and for the health of the community as a whole.

I have been told that you already find opportunities to serve families such as these through the McG's Children Hospital program, Raiders of Lost Change, the Red Cross, the Interfaith Hospitality Network and two programs through the Golden Harvest Food Bank, "Spooky to be Hungry" and "Hope Soap": these efforts enable you not only to learn about those in circumstances often very different from yours, but also enable you to contribute to the community in which you live through helping change people's lives for the better.

In closing, let's fast forward to next year. What happens to you when you are in college and you choose not to pursue your major subject (once you settle upon a major) as your career? I had no fewer than six majors when I was in college, winding up with history. I then did graduate work in several fields other than history, and wound up with multiple careers -- high school teacher, guidance counselor in a maximum security prison, truck driver, and Presbyterian pastor before I became a university president at the ripe old age of 57! Parents, be patient. God forbid, but some of your children may emulate me and wander around the educational and professional landscape before they settle down in their late 50s.

What if you fall in love with the balance and symmetry of accounting and become a CPA rather than a mathematician? What if you become intrigued by the chemical properties of fine wine and the culinary combinations of great food and open a restaurant rather than launch a research laboratory? How about if you decide that you want to sell insurance or become a kindergarten teacher? Do any of these choices mean that you suddenly have become "average"? Not for a second! Even if you wanted to, you couldn't become average. You have embraced difference in your youth, and you'll be shaped by it until you are an old person -- older even than me, and shortly after Noah announced to his family on the ark that the flood had receded and it was safe to disembark, I graduated from high school. I remember from my own youth that the prospect of attaining the venerability that I now embody was impossible to imagine. But trust me, it almost always comes, if you've got the courage and luck and pluck to pursue it.

Perhaps the most often quoted poem at commencement ceremonies is Robert Frost's "The Road not Taken." The speaker invariably admonishes the graduates facing a choice between what Frost describes as two roads diverging in a yellow wood to take the road less traveled by. But that's not the point of Frost's poem: the point is that whichever of the two roads you take, that decision will make all the difference in the rest of your life. And because you have chosen Augusta Prep, your selection of a college has been influenced by your classmates and teachers here. Then your college classmates and faculty will have an additive impact on subsequent choices, such as career and marriage. "And that," in Frost's words, "has made all the difference."

Your life experiences will make you venerable. Your rough edges that are troublesome to others will be polished by wisdom, and your sharpest insights will be expanded from tiny rays of light to brilliantly gleaming suns. And whatever the source of your livelihood, you will have the responsibility of being a faithful steward of the talents so generously bestowed upon you. Use those talents wherever you are, whatever you are doing. It is that quality that makes you unique and embodies the most important contributions you can make to our society. Remember, average is not in your future. Godspeed in all that you do!