Graduation Address

"Encaenia Address by Annette Kolodny, Ceremony A." (17 May 2000). (UA Case 67, Box 3)

On a sunny afternoon in early June 1962, like you I was dressed in an academic cap and gown, and with no little excitement, participating in my own graduation ceremony form Brooklyn College in New York City. The proceedings had reached the point where the college president was announcing the names of those who had won various senior awards. As each name was called, the award-winner walked up the aisle to the front platform, received her certificate, and shook the president’s hand; meanwhile, the other graduates and their assembled guests applauded politely and briefly, and then were quiet again. When my name was announced as an award recipient, however, something very different happened. As I walked up to the platform to receive my certificate, the applause subsided as usual, but in that moment of quiet, loud and clear from the guest section, in a pronounced Yiddish inflection, came the voice of my grandmother, excitedly shouting, "My little Annettel, oy I’m so proud."

To their credit, my fellow graduates and their guests suppressed their obvious amusement; I heard only a few twitters of laughter. But I was convulsed with embarrassment. To this day, I do not know how I made it down from the platform and back to my seat without fainting from shame.

As the graduation ceremony progressed, I slowly stopped shaking, and my flushed face returned to its normal color. And as I realized that I loved my grandmother too much not to forgive her for this very public and very embarrassing breach of decorum, I also realized something else. My grandparents had come to the United States from eastern Europe when each was still in their early teens; their families had only the clothes on their backs and spoke no English. At age twelve, my grandmother worked ten hours a day cutting and rolling tobacco leaves in a cigar factory in New York. My grandfather, who arrived a year later at age fifteen, found employment in a clothing factory – really a sweatshop – in Macon, Georgia. Years later, when the man who was to become my maternal grandfather migrated to New York, met my grandmother and fell in love, both spoke only broken English and neither had been able to attend school. They married and together enrolled in night school for a few years; but even this did not last because they both worked long hours and soon enough, they were raising a family.

So when my grandmother shouted out her pride and joy, I realized, she wasn’t intending to embarrass me. She was only trying to share a moment of triumph for which she and my grandfather had sacrificed so much. It was their hard work, after all, their refusal to be ground down by poverty, their deep respect for the power of education, that had allowed them to put their own children through college and now to see the next generation – me and my sisters – also going to college and taking on professional careers.

So today, in fond memory of my grandmother, I would like to celebrate not only the graduates but also the friends and family members who helped them make it through. Think of how much, together, you have accomplished! Think of the obstacles, he adversities, the challenges you have all overcome to be here today. First, I salute the graduates for your achievement; cherish the gift of a college education and use it to enrich your own lives and the lives of others.

Second, I salute the friends, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, sisters and brothers, wives, husbands, and children who also faced challenges and difficulties – but never wavered in their commitment to your success. Let us applaud their achievement too.

And, of course, let us not forget the faculty – those friends and mentors who only wanted to see you grow and take hold of your talents. Let us applaud them, as well.

Finally, if you cherish what this day means in your lives, I ask you to be vigilant and to make sure that what has been possible for you remains available to your children and grandchildren in the future. Let me explain:

Worldwide we are experiencing a surge in the demand for higher education. Over the past twenty years, national populations have grown – and so too have the numbers of students seeking to go on to college. That demographic trend, spurred by an international job market that requires increased levels of skill and training, has led to tremendous pressures on colleges and universities everywhere. But in most countries – even in comparatively wealthy countries like Canada and the United States – public financing of higher education hasn’t been able to keep pace with the need. Many national governments are raising the costs of college tuition, but without providing compensatory financial aid for those who simply cannot afford the increased tuition costs. As a result, there is the danger that higher education will gradually become accessible only to the wealthy and elite.

If that happens, we will have lost the power of public higher education to be a democratizing force, a force that gives everyone a chance to succeed. And we will lose out on the talents and brilliance of large sections of the world’s populations.

Like you, I am a graduate of a public university. I know that I would not have had a chance at a college education had it not been for the very low tuition at Brooklyn College. Therefore, I ask you to join me in the ongoing struggle to keep high quality higher education affordable and accessible to everyone – in Canada and around the globe – in this new century. As a former president of Harvard University is fond of remarking to obdurate elected officials who want to cut the education budget yet again – and I quote – "If you think education is expensive, try ignorance." My grandmother would have shared that view.

Thank you and good luck!