应届毕业典礼独特内涵三分钟英语演讲稿范文（通用31篇）
In the past decade alone, we’ve seen historic hurricanes devastate islands across the Caribbean. We’ve seen ‘1,000-year floods’ hit the Midwestern and Southern United States multiple times in a decade. And we’ve seen record-breaking wildfires ravage California and record-breaking typhoons kill thousands in the Philippines.
This is a true crisis. And if we fail to rise to the occasion, your generation, your children, and grandchildren will pay a terrible price. So scientists know there can be no delay in taking action – and many government and political leaders around the world are starting to understand that.
Yet here in the United States, our federal government is seeking to become the only country in the world to withdraw from the Paris Climate Agreement – the only one. Not even North Korea is doing that.
Those in Washington who deny the science of climate change are no more based in reality than those who believe the moon landing was faked. And while the moon landing conspiracy theorists are relegated to the paranoid corners of talk radio, climate skeptics occupy the highest positions of power in the United States government.
Now, in the administration’s defense, climate change, they say, is only a theory – yeah, like gravity is only a theory.
People can ignore gravity at their own risk, at least until they hit the ground. But when they ignore the climate crisis, they are not only putting themselves at risk, they are putting all humanity at risk.
you’re not supposed to be. Find the hope in the unexpected. Find the courage in the challenge. Find your vision on the solitary road.
Don’t get distracted.
There are too many people who want credit without responsibility.
Too many who show up for the ribbon cutting without building anything worth a damn.
Be different. Leave something worthy.In a few days, we will mark the 50th anniversary of the riots at Stonewall.
When the patrons of the Stonewall Inn showed up that night – people of all races, gay and transgender, young and old – they had no idea what history had in store for them. It would have seemed foolish to dream it.
And always remember that you can’t take it with you. You’re going to have to pass it on.
Thank you very much. And Congratulations to the Class of 20xx!
In just the four years that you’ve been here at the Farm, things feel like they have taken a sharp turn.
Crisis has tempered optimism. Consequences have challenged idealism. And reality has shaken blind faith.
And yet we are all still drawn here.
For good reason.
Big dreams live here, as do the genius and passion to make them real. In an age of cynicism, this place still believes that the human capacity to solve problems is boundless.
But so, it seems, is our potential to create them.
That’s what I’m interested in talking about today. Because if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that technology doesn’t change who we are, it magnifies who we are, the good and the bad.
Our problems – in technology, in politics, wherever – are human problems. From the Garden of Eden to today, it’s our humanity that got us into this mess, and it’s our humanity that’s going to have to get us out.
First things first, here’s a plain fact.
Silicon Valley is responsible for some of the most revolutionary inventions in modern history.
From the first oscillator built in the Hewlett-Packard garage to the iPhones that I know you’re holding in your hands.
Social media, shareable video, snaps and stories that connect half the people on Earth. They all trace their roots to Stanford’s backyard.
But lately, it seems, this industry is becoming better known for a less noble innovation: the belief that you can claim credit without accepting responsibility.
Now, some people say, we should leave it in God’s hands. But most religious leaders, I’m happy to say, disagree. After all, where in the Bible, or the Torah, or the Koran, or any other book about faith or philosophy, does it teach that we should do things that make floods and fires and plagues more severe? I must have missed that day in religion class.
Today, most Americans in both parties accept that human activity is driving the climate crisis and they want government to take action. Over the past two months, there has been a healthy debate – mostly within the Democratic Party – over what those actions should be. And that’s great.
In the years ahead, we need to build consensus around comprehensive and ambitious federal policies that the next Congress should pass. But everyone who is concerned about the climate crisis should also be able to agree on two realities.
The first one is, given opposition in the Senate and White House, there is virtually no chance of passing such policies before 20xx. And the second reality is we can’t wait to act. We can’t put this mission off any longer. Mother Nature does not wait on the election calendar – and neither can we.
Our foundation, Bloomberg Philanthropies, have been working for years to rally cities, and states, and businesses to lead on this issue – and we’ve had real success. Just not enough.
In my inaugural address, I remarked that just 60 years earlier, my father might not have been served in a D.C. restaurant – at least not certain of them. There were no black CEOs of Fortune 500 companies. Very few black judges. Shoot, as Larry Wilmore pointed out last week, a lot of folks didn’t even think blacks had the tools to be a quarterback. Today, former Bull Michael Jordan isn’t just the greatest basketball player of all time – he owns the team. (Laughter.) When I was graduating, the main black hero on TV was Mr. T. (Laughter.) Rap and hip hop were counterculture, underground. Now, Shonda Rhimes owns Thursday night, and Beyoncé runs the world. (Laughter.) We’re no longer only entertainers, we’re producers, studio executives. No longer small business owners – we’re CEOs, we’re mayors, representatives, Presidents of the United States. (Applause.)
Noe, I am not saying gaps do not persist. Obviously, they do. Racism persists. Inequality persists. Don’t worry – I’m going to get to that. But I wanted to start, Class of 20xx, by opening your eyes to the moment that you are in. If you had to choose one moment in history in which you could be born, and you didn’t know ahead of time who you were going to be – what nationality, what gender, what race, whether you’d be rich or poor, gay or straight, what faith you’d be born into – you wouldn’t choose 100 years ago. You wouldn’t choose the fifties, or the sixties, or the seventies. You’d choose right now. If you had to choose a time to be, in the words of Lorraine Hansberry, “young, gifted, and black” in America, you would choose right now. (Applause.)
Strength is a big part of the Boilermaker mystique. And it comes in forms more important than the physical strength of our terrific athletes or those of you I see at the Co-Rec and on our intramural fields. Purdue has always been known for sending into the world young men and women who are strong and ready in all the ways that matter in adult life. That’s never been more important, or a bigger advantage, than right now.
By making it to this hall today, you have proven that you are strong intellectually. Your university has never believed in participation trophies. Your parents can rest assured that, in the words of a long-ago commercial they will remember, you got your diploma the old-fashioned way. “You earned it.”
I can testify that you are strong in character. In each of your years here, our campus was rated among the safest in the country, in large part because of fewer incidents of student misconduct. Each year on our big event weekends, police calls here are a small fraction of those at nearby universities of similar size. Naming no names.
You have not just behaved yourselves well, you have demanded it of others. Bystander actions and reports that prevent harm to other students have risen sharply in recent years.
And your heart for others is truly inspiring. We watch with admiration your dance marathons and countless other charity projects demonstrating the ethic of service and selflessness that we associate with great character.
See most of us are afraid of the thief, they comes in the night to steal all of our things. But there is a thief in your mind who is after your dreams. His name is doubt.If you see him call the cops and keep him away from the kids because he is wanted for murder. So he has killed more dreams than failure ever did. He wears many disguises and like a virus will leave you blinded, divided and turn you into a kinda.See kinda is lethal. You know what kinda is? There is a lot of kinda people, you kinda want a career change, you kinda want to get straight As, you kinda want to get in shape. Simple math, no numbers to crunch. If you kinda want something, then you will kinda get the results you want.
having a view on these great men in the history of hunmanbeing,they all made full use of their youth time ,to do things that are useful to society,to the whole mankind,and as a cosquence ,they are remembered by later generations,admired by everyone.so do something in the time of young,although you may not get achievements as these greatmen did ,though not for the whole word,just for youeself,for those around!the young is just like blooming flowers,they are so beautiful when blooming,they make people feel happy,but with time passing by,after they withers ,moet people think they are ugly.and so it is the same with young,we are enthusiastic when we are young,then we may lose our passion when getting older and older.
Think about what’s at stake. Everything you write, everything you say, every topic of curiosity, every stray thought, every impulsive purchase, every moment of frustration or weakness, every gripe or complaint, every secret shared in confidence.
In a world without digital privacy, even if you have done nothing wrong other than think differently, you begin to censor yourself. Not entirely at first. Just a little, bit by bit. To risk less, to hope less, to imagine less, to dare less, to create less, to try less, to talk less, to think less. The chilling effect of digital surveillance is profound, and it touches everything.
What a small, unimaginative world we would end up with. Not entirely at first. Just a little, bit by bit. Ironically, it’s the kind of environment that would have stopped Silicon Valley before it had even gotten started.
We deserve better. You deserve better.
If we believe that freedom means an environment where great ideas can take root, where they can grow and be nurtured without fear of irrational restrictions or burdens, then it’s our duty to change course, because your generation ought to have the same freedom to shape the future as the generation that came before.
Graduates, at the very least, learn from these mistakes. If you want to take credit, first, learn to take responsibility.
While data, evidence, logic, and reason provide one way to make sense of the world, the arts provide another: a distinct, yet complimentary mode of understanding oneself and experiencing the world, beyond facts and figures. Engagement with the arts has been shown to elevate resilience in the face of change, empathy and understanding of others, and capacity to solve problems.
And in today’s volatile world, having a well-developed creative capacity, in addition to strong analytic skills, is paramount. In fact, a 20xx World Economic Forum report placed creativity as one of the three most important work-related skills anticipated for 20xx.
So, my message to you today is simple: Never relinquish your paintbrush, your pen, your musical instrument, or any other creative tool at your disposal, because there is always another stroke, another stanza, another measure, another chapter in the work that will forever be known as you.
And when you see an opportunity to engage with the arts, or to support the arts, embrace it with all you’ve got.
Iwonderedwhetherwecouldseeourfutureinthisway.Well,let’smakeafist.Whereisourfuture?Whereisourlove,career,andlife?Tellme.Yeah,itisinourhands.Itisheldinourselves.Weallwantthefuturetobebetterthanthepast.Butthefuturecangobetteritself.Don’tcrybecauseitisover,smilebecauseithappened.Fromthepast,we’velearntthatthelifeistough,butwearetougher.We’velearntthatwecan’tchoosehowwefeel,butwecanchoosewhataboutit.Failuredoesn’tmeanyoudon’thaveit,itdoesmeanyoushoulddoitinadifferentway.Failuredoesn’tmeanyoushouldgiveup,itdoesmeanyoumusttryharder.AswhatIsaidatthebeginning,“wearereadingthefirstverseofthefirstchapterofabook,whosepagesareinfinite”.Thepasthasgone.Nothingwedowillchangeit.Butthefutureisinfrontofus.Believethatwhatwegivetotheworld,theworldwillgivetous.Andfromtodayon,let’sbetheownersofourselves,andspeakout“Wearetheworld,wearethefuture.”
They wanted Stanford’s faculty, students, and staff to pursue knowledge and excellence not just as ends in themselves, but for the sake of humanity and the world.
I’ve often wondered what motivated the Stanfords to place this greater purpose at the heart of our university.
I think I got a clue recently, when, in January, I visited the Stanford Family Collection at the Cantor Arts Center.
Jane and Leland Stanford were some of the most influential citizens of California in the late 19th century, and the Cantor holds a number of artifacts relating to their lives. The collection also includes some childhood journals that belonged to their son, Leland Stanford Jr.
Reading these journals was, to me, a revelation. They are a record of Leland Junior’s childhood studies and interests: from arithmetic practice to sketches and photography.
But what truly leaps from the pages is Leland Junior’s extraordinary curiosity.
He was learning and absorbing everything he could about the world. Though he was just in his early teens, he had ambitions in anthropology and history and art. And he was fascinated by other cultures.
He spent his time studying and reflecting on contemporary and historical objects – from fossils to armor, to buildings and monuments, to the ruins of ancient temples.
Here we are again. My favorite moment of the year. It’s a genuine day of dreams: in the student section, dreams of new careers, marriage, children, new adventures. In the parents’ seating, dreams of what to do with that disposable income they’re no longer sending to West Lafayette. All in all, a day like no other.
My own dreams about today sometimes are more like nightmares. What to say that’s fitting – that’s meaningful but still concise enough to get us on to the main event quickly? Hardest of all, what to say that’s the least bit original?
While dreaming, or daydreaming, about today, I found myself thinking about Purdue Pete. Again, this year, Pete was ranked among the most identified college mascots in the country, and the favorite in our Big Ten Conference.
A few years before your class arrived on campus, someone tried to redo Pete and turn him into some new symbol of our school. I wasn’t here, either, but as told to me, the idea started an immediate backlash, a near-riot, and died within days. I got to thinking about “why?”
Maybe part of it was his uniqueness. At my last count, there were 64 Eagles, 46 Tigers, and 33 Wildcats among college mascots. But there’s only one set of Boilermakers.
But I think our attachment to Pete stems mainly from the way he personifies our self-image of strength. When our up-and-coming football program chose its slogan for this year, it was “Only the Strong.” One of the year’s YouTube sensations featured a five-foot-nine Purdue player squatting 600 pounds.
But make no mistake, engagement with the arts is integral to the experience of every Dartmouth student – not just those who actively create art. I grew up in a small mining town in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains. A rough-and-tumble place, my town had no shortage of taverns, but not a single movie theater. So, when I arrived at Dartmouth in the fall of 1973, movies were a magnificent, unexplored terrain; and the Film Society became my obsession. My freshman fall, the Film Society ran a series of John Ford classics, and I marveled at these films – how they could stir such deep feelings with their irony and nostalgia. A year later, the Film Society became yesterday’s news when Springsteen played at the Hop.
For me, the arts at Dartmouth opened my mind to entirely new ways of thinking, helped me see the world as it is, and imagine the world as it could be.
Class of ’19, you embody Dartmouth’s lofty mission: to prepare our graduates to lead lives of leadership and impact. The arts have always been a magnetic presence on this campus exactly because they are core to that mission.
At least for the foreseeable future, winning the battle against climate change will depend less on scientific advancement and more on political activism.
And that’s why Beyond Carbon includes political spending that will mobilize voters to go to the polls and support candidates who actually are taking action on something that could end life on Earth as we know it. At the same time, we will defeat at the voting booth those who try to block action and those who pander with rhetoric that just kicks the can down the road.
Our message to elected officials will be simple: face reality on climate change or face the music on Election Day. Our lives and our children’s lives depend on it – and so should their political careers.
Now, most of America will experience a net increase in jobs as we move to renewable energy sources and reduction in pollution. But in some places, jobs are being lost – we know that, and we can’t leave those communities behind.
For example, generations of miners powered America to greatness – and many paid for it with their lives and their health. But today, they need our help to change with technology and the economy.
And while it is up to the federal government to make those investments, Beyond Carbon will continue our foundation’s work to show that progress really is possible. So…it certainly does deserve a round of applause. So we will support local organizations in Appalachia and the Western mountain states, and work to spur economic growth, and retrain workers for jobs in growing industries.
Here’s my corollary: “Your mentors may leave you prepared, but they can’t leave you ready.”
When Steve got sick, I had hardwired my thinking to the belief that he would get better. I not only thought he would hold on, I was convinced, down to my core, that he’d still be guiding Apple long after I, myself, was gone.
Then, one day, he called me over to his house and told me that it wasn’t going to be that way.
Even then, I was convinced he would stay on as chairman. That he’d step back from the day to day but always be there as a sounding board.
But there was no reason to believe that. I never should have thought it. The facts were all there.
And when he was gone, truly gone, I learned the real, visceral difference between preparation and readiness.
It was the loneliest I’ve ever felt in my life. By an order of magnitude. It was one of those moments where you can be surrounded by people, yet you don’t really see, hear or feel them. But I could sense their expectations.
We've created entire value systems and a physical reality to support the worth of self. Look at the industry for self-image and the jobs it creates, the revenue it turns over. We'd be right in assuming that the self is an actual living thing. But it's not. It's a projection which our clever brains create in order to cheat ourselves from the reality of death.But there is something that can give the self ultimate and infinite connection -- and that thing is oneness, our essence. The self's struggle for authenticity and definition will never end unless it's connected to its creator -- to you and to me. And that can happen with awareness -- awareness of the reality of oneness and the projection of self-hood.For a start, we can think about all the times when we do lose ourselves. It happens when I dance, when I'm acting. I'm earthed in my essence, and my self is suspended. In those moments, I'm connected to everything --
I tell you all this because it’s important to note progress. Because to deny how far we’ve come would do a disservice to the cause of justice, to the legions of foot soldiers; to not only the incredibly accomplished individuals who have already been mentioned, but your mothers and your dads, and grandparents and great grandparents, who marched and toiled and suffered and overcame to make this day possible. I tell you this not to lull you into complacency, but to spur you into action – because there’s still so much more work to do, so many more miles to travel. And America needs you to gladly, happily take up that work. You all have some work to do. So enjoy the party, because you’re going to be busy. (Laughter.)
Yes, our economy has recovered from crisis stronger than almost any other in the world. But there are folks of all races who are still hurting – who still can’t find work that pays enough to keep the lights on, who still can’t save for retirement. We’ve still got a big racial gap in economic opportunity. The overall unemployment rate is 5 percent, but the black unemployment rate is almost nine. We’ve still got an achievement gap when black boys and girls graduate high school and college at lower rates than white boys and white girls. Harriet Tubman may be going on the twenty, but we’ve still got a gender gap when a black woman working full-time still earns just 66 percent of what a white man gets paid. (Applause.)
We’ve got a justice gap when too many black boys and girls pass through a pipeline from underfunded schools to overcrowded jails. This is one area where things have gotten worse. When I was in college, about half a million people in America were behind bars. Today, there are about 2.2 million. Black men are about six times likelier to be in prison right now than white men.
But you got here. And you’ve all worked hard to reach this day. You’ve shuttled between challenging classes and Greek life. You’ve led clubs, played an instrument or a sport. You volunteered, you interned, held down one, two, maybe three jobs. You’ve made lifelong friends and discovered exactly what you’re made of. The “Howard Hustle” has strengthened your sense of purpose and ambition, which means you are part of a long line of Howard graduates. Some are on this stage today. Some are in the audience. That spirit of achievement and special responsibility has defined this campus ever since the Freedman’s Bureau established Howard just four years after the Emancipation Proclamation; just two years after the Civil War came to an end. They created this university with a vision – a vision of uplift; a vision for an America where our fates would be determined not by our race, gender, religion or creed, but where we would be free – in every sense – to pursue our individual and collective dreams.
It is that spirit that’s made Howard a centerpiece of African-American intellectual life and a central part of our larger American story. This institution has been the home of many firsts: The first black Nobel Peace Prize winner. The first black Supreme Court justice. But its mission has been to ensure those firsts were not the last. Countless scholars, professionals, artists, and leaders from every field received their training here. The generations of men and women who walked through this yard helped reform our government, cure disease, grow a black middle class, advance civil rights, shape our culture. The seeds of change – for all Americans – were sown here. And that’s what I want to talk about today.
psychopathic selves all over that beautiful land are fueling our selves' addiction to iPods, Pads, and bling, which further disconnect ourselves from ever feeling their pain, their suffering, their death.Because, hey, if we're all living in ourselves and mistaking it for life, then we're devaluing and desensitizing life. And in that disconnected state, yeah, we can build factory farms with no windows, destroy marine life and use rape as a weapon of war. So here's a note to self: The cracks have started to show in our constructed world, and oceans will continue to surge through the cracks, and oil and blood, rivers of it.
Now, a lot of you – the vast majority – won’t find yourselves in tech at all. That’s as it should be. We need your minds at work far and wide, because our challenges are great, and they can’t be solved by any single industry.
No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I know you will be ambitious. You wouldn’t be here today if you weren’t. Match that ambition with humility – a humility of purpose.
That doesn’t mean being tamer, being smaller, being less in what you do. It’s the opposite, it’s about serving something greater. The author Madeleine L’Engle wrote, “Humility is throwing oneself away in complete concentration on something or someone else.”
In other words, whatever you do with your life, be a builder.
You don’t have to start from scratch to build something monumental. And, conversely, the best founders – the ones whose creations last and whose reputations grow rather than shrink with passing time – they spend most of their time building, piece by piece.
Builders are comfortable in the belief that their life’s work will one day be bigger than them – bigger than any one person. They’re mindful that its effects will span generations. That’s not an accident. In a way, it’s the whole point.
When the door was busted open by police, it was not the knock of opportunity or the call of destiny. It was just another instance of the world telling them that they ought to feel worthless for being different.
I realized this during the struggle of my life trying to build a network at the same time as running a show. I did not have the right leadership, and everything is about having the right people around you to support you. All of my mistakes were in the media—I can’t do anything privately. So when everything is about struggle-struggle, I had to say: What is this about? What is this here to show you? That is now my favorite question in crisis: What is this here to teach you or show you?
Jack Canfield in Chicken Soup for the Soul says “The greatest wound we’ve all experienced is being rejected for being our authentic self. And then we try to be what we’re not to get approval, love, acceptance, money...but the real need for all of us is to reconnect with the essence of who we really are…we all go around hiding parts of ourselves." He said he was with a Buddhist teacher years ago who said, “Here’s the secret: If you were to meditate for 20 years, here’s where you’d finally get to: Just be yourself, but be all of you.”
I’ve made a living—not a living but a real life—by being myself, using the energy of myself to serve the purpose of my soul. That purpose, I’m here to tell you, gets revealed to you daily. It is the thread that’s connecting the dots of who you are.
I’ve made a living—not a living but a real life—by being myself.
I have met faculty across our schools who are expanding religious literacy; who are exploring the role of the arts in promoting justice; who are confronting the opioid epidemic from every angle; who are working to make state and local government more effective. Their work is nothing short of inspiring.
And I’ve come to know our students – absolutely amazing students. To the parents who are here, thank you, thank you for sending these remarkable young people to us. They are nothing short of inspiring. Interacting with them is one of the great privileges of living and working on a college campus. Adele and I have had dinner with them in the Houses. We’ve watched them perform on the stage and on the playing fields. I’ve met with them during office hours and talked to them as I’ve gone running with them. If you spend time with our students, you cannot help but feel optimistic about our future.
This past week, I had lunch with thirty graduating seniors. It was wonderful to hear how they think they have changed and matured during their four years here. I actually asked them how is your current self different from your 18-year-old self that arrived here on campus, and the stories were marvelous. And I’ve witnessed this process of transformation myself.
I helped to advise three of our incoming first-year undergraduates this year, and they helped me experience and understand Harvard through their eyes. To Andrew, Claire, and Karen, thank you for sharing your first year for [with] me and for teaching me so well.
the group gathered there felt something strengthen in them. A conviction that they deserved something better than the shadows, and better than oblivion.
And if it wasn’t going to be given, then they were going to have to build it themselves.
I was 8 years old and a thousand miles away when Stonewall happened. There were no news alerts, no way for photos to go viral, no mechanism for a kid on the Gulf Coast to hear these unlikely heroes tell their stories.
Greenwich Village may as well have been a different planet, though I can tell you that the slurs and hatreds were the same.
What I would not know, for a long time, was what I owed to a group of people I never knew in a place I’d never been.
Yet I will never stop being grateful for what they had the courage to build.
Graduates, being a builder is about believing that you cannot possibly be the greatest cause on this Earth, because you aren’t built to last. It’s about making peace with the fact that you won’t be there for the end of the story.
That brings me to my last bit of advice.
Fourteen years ago, Steve stood on this stage and told your predecessors: “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.”
Third, we will support our most powerful allies – governors, mayors, and legislators – in their pursuit of ambitious policies and laws. And we will empower the grassroots army of activists and environmental groups that are currently driving progress state by state.
Together, we will push for new incentives and mandates that increase renewable power, pollution-free buildings, waste-free energy, access to mass transit, and sales of electric vehicles, which are now turning the combustion engine – and all of its pollution – into a relic of the Industrial Revolution.
Fourth, and finally, we will get deeply involved in elections across the country, because climate change is now first and foremost a political problem, not a scientific quandary or even a technological puzzle.
Now, I know that, as scientists and engineers, “politics” can be a dirty word. I’m an engineer – I get it. But I’m also a realist, so I have three words for you: get over it.
When the dust settled, all I knew was that I was going to have to be the best version of myself that I could be.
I knew that if you got out of bed every morning and set your watch by what other people expect or demand, it’ll drive you crazy.
So what was true then is true now. Don’t waste your time living someone else’s life. Don’t try to emulate the people who came before you to the exclusion of everything else, contorting into a shape that doesn’t fit.
It takes too much mental effort – effort that should be dedicated to creating and building. You’ll waste precious time trying to rewire your every thought, and, in the meantime, you won’t be fooling anybody.
Graduates, the fact is, when your time comes, and it will, you’ll never be ready.
Thank you so much, everybody. Please, please, have a seat. Oh, I feel important now. Got a degree from Howard. Cicely Tyson said something nice about me. (Laughter.)
Audience Member: I love you, President!
President Barack Obama: I love you back.
To President Frederick, the Board of Trustees, faculty and staff, fellow recipients of honorary degrees, thank you for the honor of spending this day with you. And congratulations to the Class of 20xx! (Applause.) Four years ago, back when you were just freshmen, I understand many of you came by my house, the night I was reelected. (Laughter.) So I decided to return the favor and come by yours.
To the parents, the grandparents, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, all the family and friends who stood by this class, cheered them on, helped them get here today – this is your day, as well. Let’s give them a big round of applause, as well. (Applause.)
I’m not trying to stir up any rivalries here; I just want to see who’s in the house. We got Quad? (Applause.) Annex. (Applause.) Drew. Carver. Slow. Towers. And Meridian. (Applause.) Rest in peace, Meridian. (Laughter.) Rest in peace.
I know you’re all excited today. You might be a little tired, as well. Some of you were up all night making sure your credits were in order. (Laughter.) Some of you stayed up too late, ended up at HoChi at 2:00 a.m. (Laughter.) Got some mambo sauce on your fingers. (Laughter.)
I'm here to tell you that your life isn’t some big break, like everybody tells you that is. It’s about taking one big life transforming step at a time.
You can pick a problem, any problem—the list is long. There’s gun violence, and inequality, and media bias...and the dreamers need protection...the prison system needs to be reformed, misogyny needs to stop. But the truth is you cannot fix everything. What you can do here and now is make a decision, because life is about decisions—and the decision that you can make is to use your life in service. You will be in service to life, and you will speak up, you will show up, you will stand up, you will volunteer, you will shout out, you will radically transform whatever moment you’re in, which will lead to bigger moments.
To do it, we will defeat in the courts the EPA’s attempt to roll back regulations that reduce carbon pollution and protect our air and water. But most of our battles will take place outside of Washington. We’re going to take the fight to the cities, and states – and directly to the people. And the fight will take place on four main fronts.
First, we will push states and utilities to phase out every last U.S. coal-fired power plant by 2030 – just 11 years from now. Politicians keep making promises about climate change mitigation by the year 2050 – hypocritically, after they’re long gone and no one can hold them accountable. Meanwhile, the science keeps moving the possible inflection point of irreversible global warming closer and closer. We have to set goals for the near term – and we have to hold our elected officials accountable for meeting them.
Your accomplishments are also due, in part, to the dedication, to the loving encouragement, and to the extraordinary support of the family members and friends who have championed each one of you in the years you’ve worked toward your Stanford degree.
Now, many of those family members and friends are here today, in the stands of our stadium. Others are watching this ceremony from around the world, via livestream.
They include your mothers and your fathers, Happy Father’s Day, by the way; your spouses and children; your siblings; your grandparents, aunts, and uncles; your mentors; and your peers – people who helped you along the way to Stanford and through your years as Stanford students.
And so I’d ask all the members of the Class of 20xx, seniors and graduate students, to join now in one of Stanford’s treasured Commencement traditions.
Please rise. Think of all those family members and friends who supported you on this special journey. Turn to your family members and friends, if they are in the stands or if they are watching from around the world.
And please join me in saying these words to them: “Thank you. Thank you!”
You may be seated. Yeah.
I do a lot of graduations, lecturing, talking, and exchanging with the girls, we talk about passion and purpose and realizing your dream. But I realized I was confusing them and their expectations were out of wack. One of my daughter girls two years ago graduated with an internship, bought a used a car, all with no help from me. She’d only been working about six months and called me and said "Mama O, they want to give me a promotion, and I don’t want to take it because I don’t think it fulfills my purpose.” And I said “Your purpose right now is to keep that job! To do what you have to do until you can do what you want to do." (I borrowed that line from the great debaters.)
For years, I had a job, and after years of doing what I didn’t want to do, I ended up finding my life’s calling. My job ended when I was 28 years old. I got my first job in radio at 16, got on tv at 19, and every day I said "I don’t know if this is what I’m really supposed to be doing." But my father was like: ‘You better keep that job!" At 28, it wasn’t working out on the news because I was too emotional. I would cry while interviewing someone who had lost their home. I was told that I was going to be talking on the evening news and put on a talk show, and that was a demotion for me at the time. But that actually worked out for me.
For years at graduations I’ve said there’s no such thing as failure. But there is. I’ve also said failure is life pointing you in a different direction, and it indeed does. But in the moment when you fail, it really feels bad. It’s embarrassing…and it’s bad, and it’s going to happen to you if you keep living. But I guarantee you it also will pass, and you will be fine. Why? Because everything is always working out for you.