Turning the Tables

On behalf of UNCG’s faculty, congratulations to all graduates and a warm welcome to families and friends.

When I was invited to deliver today’s commencement address, my first thought was, “How terrifying! What could I possibly have to say?”

No doubt many of you had similar thoughts at the prospect of taking speaking intensive courses. Just as you did, I searched for an appropriate topic; at first I thought it should be something learned, witty or some combination thereof. But when I came upon the old saying, “Those who teach learn twice,” I knew I had found my topic.

Today I shall tell you what I have learned from you, thus my title, “Turning the Tables.” That this will be a short talk is not a value judgment on my part, but an acknowledgment of the certainty that you would rather be at the end of this formal program so that you can get on with the less formal aspects of today’s celebrations. Believe me, I would like to be there too.

So, what have I learned from you?

I have learned that the body can be a site of personal creative expression in ways that I myself never considered. When I commented on a particularly vivid shade of red hair that several of you seem to have gotten from the same bottle, you informed me that it was L’Oréal fuchsia and told me where I could find it at CVS pharmacy just in case my dye job began to seem a bit boring.

I’ll always remember the day one of you asked if I had ever considered a tattoo. The long answer to that question is, “Not in this my sixth decade, but perhaps in my seventh.” I am open to your suggestions for suitable subject matter.

When I asked you about the meaning of the colored rubber bands you wear, you told me that a percentage of the purchase price supports causes and institutions that are important to you. I call those badges of honor and encourage you to continue this kind of support. Keep in mind that you may be known for how much money you make, but you will be remembered for how much of it you give away.

You have taught me about language and new forms of communication.

After hearing me butcher the names of Chinese artists, one of you offered to give me lessons in the inflections of Mandarin Chinese, and I thank you for those. More of you have taught me about English. I now know that “like” can be used as a part of speech other than an adjective, an adverb, a verb or a noun. You should listen for a demonstration of my knowledge in this regard, but it won’t come now.

Now I will admit to you that I was absolutely dazzled when I heard your PowerPoint presentations. Since this was a new technology for me, I asked you to teach me how to sound as professional as you do. Several of you gave me tutorials, and I appreciated your patience. I took my new knowledge to a conference where I delivered a paper with Powerpoint projections. I can’t claim that I did you proud, but I can report that I did not sound like the technophobe that I am at heart.

You also explained to me the differences between instant messaging and text messaging. I have not yet mastered either one, but I will have by the time one of you writes the great American e-novel, and I will be your most enthusiastic reader.

You have taught me how to stay modern. By modern, I don’t mean hip. It’s impossible to be hip when you’re wearing moth-eaten, hand-me-down academic robes, as I am. By modern I mean tuning into those cultural differences that distinguish today from so last year, or in my case, so last century. When I hear from you how awesome Lebron James is, I have learned not to sigh and say, “But you should have seen Pele,” and when you make claims for Beyoncé, I am no longer tempted to compare her to Leontyne Price or Patsy Cline.

You have taught me that Generations X and Y are as politically engaged as my pre-alphabetic generation. Of course, my evidence for this is anecdotal, but the last time I asked on Election Day how many of you had voted, almost every hand in the class went up.

I like to think that was not because I badgered you, but then again, one of you did bring me this decal, which shows lipstick-red lips with a cartoon cloud that reads “VOTE.” When you offered it to me as a gift, you tactfully suggested that I affix it to the window behind my desk so that I could stop bugging you to get out the vote. Forgive me, but those of us who came of age in the ’60s like to think we invented political activism and therefore claim ownership of it.

I am delighted and relieved to know that I can pass part of that ownership over to you, with the one last reminder that you will always and only have the political system in which you actively participate.

Finally, you have taught me the fallacy of the latest salvo in the culture wars that persist in pitting one gender against another. I’m referring now to the highly publicized suggestion that women have less aptitude for math and science than men do. In my case this is true, but in yours it is emphatically not so.

I predict that some of you, women as well as men, will participate in all phases of the scientific experiments that will make flu vaccines readily available, as they were not this year. And one of you, as likely a woman as a man, will do the math that fixes our social security system. Since I have you here as a captive audience for one more minute, let me make one small personal request: please leave my social security benefits alone – I’ll need them for that tattoo.

Well, we are now closer to those celebratory parties that will follow this formal program. You have worked hard, so give yourselves a fine time this afternoon. But don’t look back because you will see me and my pals celebrating the end of the semester. And one thing I did not need to learn from you because I learned it forty years ago when I was in university: nothing is more like totally embarrassing than seeing unhip people having a good time. So keep looking ahead.