I’d like to start with a little audience participation. Close your eyes and think of your hero. You just see them, and the way they handle themselves, in situations, and you think to yourself, that is who I want to be. And you aspire to be that person every day. Now I want you, in your mind’s eye, to imagine my hero next to yours: I’ll describe him for you. My hero’s name is Mark. He’s tall, not impressively tall, but awkwardly tall. The kind of tall guy that hits his head on nearly everything in sight, and gets a “dude what the hell” face from people when he admits that he can’t dunk. He dresses like a golf caddy, walks around with a stupid grin on his face, and, even though he lived his whole life in Massachusetts, inexplicably has a British accent. Ok now you can open your eyes. All of you that already opened your eyes, well…you should really learn how to follow directions. I’m sure my hero isn’t nearly as impressive as the John F Kennedys, Eleanor Roosevelts, or Frank Millet’s of the world that you all are imagining, but I did have the pleasure of having him as one of my best friends growing up. From the time we were young, Mark was always trying to prove that he was smarter and more mature than the rest of us, mostly by sharing his insights and musings on life. Little one-liners that could have been found in fortune cookies. Every once in a while though, Mark would come up with one that would truly speak to me. One such little gem, “pearl” if you will, of wisdom was this: “If you are ever faced with a difficult problem, there are probably two choices. the smart thing to do, and the right thing to do.” First let me clarify the words smart and right. Smart, as Mark meant it, does not mean what we traditionally think of as smart, like the most intelligent solution. Smart means what everyone else thinks is smart. What your parents or your friends, or the academic community at large think is best for you, or is the correct course of action that your life should take. Next, the word right. I know right is a very loaded word, with all these moral connotations. Drop all that off the word for a second though. What’s right, is what your conscience tells you. That natural impulse that you can try to fight, but you never really feel good about going against. We all have an instinct for what’s right, but how much we listen to it can change as we grow. Now I know what you’re thinking: There are plenty of problems, where there is one clear choice that is both smart and right. Think you’ve got me? Well then I hope you don’t go to Milton, because you weren’t listening very carefully. I said difficult problems had these two choices…that’s why they’re difficult. My seemingly British friend Mark held the belief that any time we are indecisive, it’s because we are choosing between what we think is the smart thing to do, and what we know, deep down, is the right thing. These ideas of Mark, which I like to call Marxist thought, have come up numerous times in my Milton career.

Milton Academy is a community of some of the finest individuals I know. I’m not giving a sound byte for the admissions office either, it’s true. While some prep schools methodically break apart a student’s individuality in order to create the perfect college applicant, Milton encourages us to be ourselves to our fullest potential. As wonderful as that is, it is sometimes difficult to get away from thinking of Milton as being all about us. Too often, I see myself, or someone I know, breaking Mark’s philosophic rule of life.—We go to a very high-pressure school. I know that this is news for many of the students in the room, but try to bear with me on this. I just think that at one point or another some of us will try too hard to do what we think is the smart thing, rather than what we know to be the right thing. There are times when we can be so caught up in the work, that we can forget to take care of ourselves, and more importantly, each other. Often we are afraid to put aside an assignment for just a moment, to take care of our friends, because we are worried it would not be the smart thing. It’s smart to do your work as soon as possible. It’s smart to not answer the phone when you’re studying. It’s smart to leave your friends alone when they need you most. The reason that you feel the pang of guilt when you ignore the people that love you to finish an assignment is because you know you haven’t done the right thing. But its ok…you’re being smart.

As I look back on my time at Milton, the memories that I remember most fondly, are those when I did not compromise, when I did not sacrifice what I knew to be right for what I thought to be smart. For example, freshman year, when I spent all of my free periods in a class-wide rock, paper, scissors tournament when I should have been doing my workshop homework. Now I’m not about to stand here on my graduation day and ask all of you current students to not work hard…but…don’t work hard! I’m not saying you should throw your life away in a foolish, self-destructive, adolescent rage, but do remember that sometimes taking time off from work doesn’t always lead away from ivy league campus gates and towards the career of a dog walker. Parents, I know that this can be difficult to hear, but your child is not a failure if they don’t get A’s all the time. Sure, ok if they get a C, put them out on the street, they deserve that, but a couple of B+’s? come on. Sometimes we need to take a step back, and settle ourselves a little bit. Ask yourself, what am I really doing here? Am I really triple-checking an assignment at the expense of a good night’s sleep? Is that the right thing to do? Actually its not the smart thing to do either. Once you’re at the stage where you’re triple checking minor assignments, its time to get some help.

Someone once told me that there are three types of New England Prep school students. Imagine three kids walking down the sidewalk. The first is looking down at the ground. He symbolizes the student that is always worried. “did I answer all the questions right on that chem test? Have I studied enough for the in-class essay? Is my class IV talk well-rehearsed?” The second student walks with his head pointed straight up at the sky. He sees high school as another rung on the ladder to college. He thinks, “have I done enough community service to put on my application? Am I the head of enough clubs? Is tour guide of the month as impressive as I think it is?” The third student walks with a level head. He keeps his eyes focused on what’s going on around him. He waves to his classmates, gives a friendly nod to his teachers, and stops to talk with his friends. This is the kind of person Mark encouraged me to be. Whenever I would complain to him about a math exam or a big history paper, he’d take me aside, and remind me to that third prep school student, with a level head.

Even though Mark was always full of little tidbits of wisdom, he was an easy guy to ignore. His peculiar accent and awkward height insured that it was almost impossible to ever take him seriously. I lived my life, with Mark’s ideas as background noise. All that changed though, when earlier this year my quirky friend Mark passed away. At his funeral, I could no longer pass off what he said as just Mark being Mark. Everything he ever said to me began to resonate with a heavier tone. I started to question myself. Am I who he wanted me to be? Am I who I want to be?

When I was younger I used to be a big fan of the Calvin and Hobbes comics by Bill Waterson. I remember one particular strip in the collection entitled “it’s a magical world”. The scene is one of the hallmarks of the Calvin and Hobbes collection, the twosome on a sled, on one of the many hills that seem to make up the acres of Calvin’s backyard. As they prepare to head down, Calvin turns to Hobbes and says “In the short term, it makes me happy to go play outside” in the second panel, he says “In the long term, it would make me happier to do well at school and become successful.” In the third panel, he says “But in the very long term, I know which will make better memories.” And with that, he takes off down the hill. This is high school. The best time of your life. As Milton Academy students, we will all go off to do amazing things, and change the world, and come back and maybe even donate a building, or some art or something. But no amount of degrees, awards, and Nobel prizes will ever compare to the memories that you have made here. So do yourself a favor, and make the most of your time. And take my Mark’s advice, and please…please…try to be significantly less smart.

Thank you.

[Back to Graduation 2007]