Senior Class Speaker

Good morning. One moment please. Okay. Good morning, everyone! I’m so honored to get to speak to you all for such a special celebration. And I really wanted to talk about something that I felt we all could relate to here at Knox, so naturally, my speech is about misery and despair. [Laughter]

Since my first year, many of my friends and I have been fond of the idea of “shared misery,” which is the idea that sucky situations are made much better with company. A couple of summers ago, I found that this was really true on a canoe trip in the Boundary Waters between Minnesota and Canada. Some of the gear for that trip was actually paid for by a Richter grant, so shoutout Knox, thank you for funding that. Anyway, my best friend led a group of our homies across lakes and through the North Woods, carrying 80-pound canoes and huge packs on our backs through poorly-cleared paths. At one point, though, we completely lost the trail and we had to set our gear down along the side of an empty highway for hours while we wandered around and figured out how to get back on.

And here comes the “misery” part of the story. There was almost no cloud cover to protect us from the sun, so it was really hot. All of our water was really hot and it tasted like iodine because of the purifying tablets that we had to use to make it drinkable. There were one billion mosquitoes biting us through our clothes—which I didn’t know was possible—and also through the thick layer of dirt and bug spray and sunscreen and sweat. On top of all of this, our shoulders, backs, and feet ached from paddling, hiking, and carrying all the heavy gear. But it didn’t last forever: eventually, we found the other part of the trail, and we picked up our canoes, and trekked to the start of our next paddle (hooray!), where the clouds showed up and it immediately started pouring rain on us. It felt like there was no break from a constant onslaught of uncertainty and bad luck.

I found that I wanted to break down and cry from stress and exhaustion many times on that trip, but I never did. And I think it’s because I knew that the other people had my back, and I needed to be there for them in turn. Looking back at that experience now, I remember a group of college kids who kept finding ways to support each other and have fun through it all. When our shoulders ached from the weight of the canoe, we would stop to help and lift it off of the person carrying it or transfer it to someone else. When the rain was pelting us and the wind was pushing us away from our destination, we sang songs that helped us to paddle in a steady rhythm or we played guessing games to distract ourselves from the physical strain. That rainy night when we got to the campsite, we had tea, made a warm dinner, and some people even went cliff jumping. Not me though!  But there was so much joy on that trip despite all of the roadblocks that we faced.

I would say that that has been an accurate reflection of my time here at Knox, and I’m sure it has been the experience of many of my fellow graduates today. College was not easy. Life is not easy. Over the past four years, my friends and I have seen each other through disappointments and heartbreaks, missed opportunities, failed tests, the deaths of loved ones, legislative changes that aim to strip us and our neighbors of our humanity, and so much more.

We have seen each other through exceptional struggle, but we have also seen each other through unparalleled joy.

I remember stargazing my very first week in the Quads here at Knox with the group of friends that I now live with. Or, I guess, lived with. Ugh, cry about that later! I remember completely panicking every year at the prairie burn when the fire moved faster than we expected, and then screaming like little kids jumping into the cold lake after it was all over. I remember sitting in Harbach theater, losing my voice, cheering and screaming for all my friends in Terp. I remember a hot Saturday late in the Green Oaks term when we spent all day swimming and eating and laughing together in the sun. I remember many vaguely academic but deeply uncouth conversations held loudly at lunchtime, some of which made me laugh so hard and so loud I silenced the rest of the caf. Which, if you have heard my ugly laugh, you know that that’s true. I also remember singing in stairwells and churches and all over campus with the Knox College Choir, not caring if there was anyone else around. I remember late nights with friends on my front porch that were supposed to be jam sessions, but mostly we just caught up with each other and joked around.

All of this has taught me the importance of community. We have to carry one another, and we have to let others carry us when we can’t do it on our own. The world we are entering after Knox is uncertain, as some people before me have said too, and fear works really hard to isolate us from one another. But all of the misery of life feels a lot less miserable when you have a team you can count on.

At last year’s commencement, Governor J. B. Pritzker told the graduating class the importance of showing up for each other, and I think that message is still needed. When our immigrant neighbors are being taken from their families and their homes, we need to show up. When our trans siblings are having their identification and voting rights taken away, we need to show up. When accountability is removed from the authority figures who are supposed to be representing us; when foreign wars and genocides are being carried out against the will of the people, we need to show up.

Now, showing up will look different for every person. But when you don’t shoulder it all on your own, you can show up tired and imperfect. You can show up by supporting someone else who you know can do a better job than you. When you are part of a whole, it is never only on you, and that makes going through life a lot less scary.

In her book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer wrote. “Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.”

I want to choose joy over despair, and I want to do that in community. I am so grateful for the memories and the relationships that Knox has given me through good and bad moments. [Chokes up a little.] Sorry, guys! And when I leave this place, I want to go forward giving those gifts of joy and wonder and kindness to the world around me. And I hope you all will do the same.

Congratulations, everybody, and happy graduation!

Published on June 07, 2026