Valedictory Address

“Valedictory Address” (15 May 1962): 1-10. (UA Case 68, Box 2)

Before presenting the valedictory address, itself, I should like to say “thank you” to you, the class of 1962, for allowing me to be your valedictorian. It is an honor and a privilege which I shall not soon forget. My only hope is that the calibre of my remarks this evening is high enough to justify the confidence you have so generously placed in me.

I have made absolutely no attempt to infuse this address with polite and pedestrian objectivity. I do not believe that after four years here I can be objective about this university. Some of my remarks will be critical of the university, but I hope that these criticisms will not be construed as a breech of civility; they are intended merely as small, and I suppose, ineffectual, levers of correction.

There are two distinct and separate methods of improving a university: quantitative and qualitative. Of the former method – i.e., quantitatively – we have all heard a great deal – and seen a great deal. There are 1000 more students here now than when we arrived in 1957 and 1958. We have a new Physics and Biology Bldg. a battery of 4 new residences, two more men’s residences and one woman’s residence under construction; we have a new Arts Bldg., and this building in which we are dining tonight was non-existent when we roamed the campus aimlessly and dejectedly as freshman not so many months ago. This dining hall, named in honour of J.W. McConnell, a poor, but honest, man from Montreal, is perhaps the most architecturally controversial building of the new group. At one end of the critical spectrum, it has been generously referred to as a model of architectural utility and at the other end of the spectrum it has been described rather acidically as “Dick Grant’s Fallout Shelter”. I tend to ally my sentiments with the former evaluation; there are altogether too many windows for it to be good shelter. Hence, in view of this brief resume of achievement, you will have to concur when I say that quantitatively we have far outstripped even the most optimistic prognoses of four or five years ago. But what about the qualitative improvement? Do we not still have a whole host of laboratory apparatus that serves no purpose but to clutter the new buildings that house it? For example, there is a Radio tube testing device on this campus which utterly refuses to function: No amount of careful attention or expert handling will make it co-operate. It lies there placidly and irritatingly like some pre-historic fossil. It is one of many examples of an anachronism – and anachronisms are quite unnecessary and expendable in a laboratory. However, we have to commend the university for the installation of an appreciable quantity of fine, modern, equipment; to say that more of the same was necessary would be the epitome of understatement.

The next facet of our university – and indeed, it is our university – that I should like to comment upon is the faculty members. I should like to say at the very outset of these remarks that 90% of the faculty are what they should be – industrious, reputable, scholarly, friendly, understanding, and intellectually challenging. They make every effort to treat students and their work objectively; these people readily and permanently gain the confidence of their students. To these professors we offer our sincerest thanks. The other 10% are blunderers. Of course, it has to be granted that their degrees of foolishness vary – some are harmlessly foolish (these we simply call “idiosyncratic”) and then there are others who are so warped and twisted and frustrated and indolent that students dread the necessity of taking their courses. Some of these twisted people have been the victims of unfortunate wartime experiences, or perhaps they have an unhappy home life, or there again they may be so thoroughly convinced that they are geniuses that the students seem to them to be merely social chaff drifting across their paths. To these people I should like to offer this warning on behalf of the class of ’62: your days are numbered at this university. There is no room here for pet prejudices; the doors will soon be closed to warped, social mis-fits who have gained asylum within our walls; monomaniacs are unwelcome at this hostel. The students on this campus respect their professors but quite rightly refuse to reverend them; they listen to them, but cannot and must not bring themselves to idolize them; they will work for them, but will not and m must never slave for them. Therefore, to those instructors whose thirst for power is insatiable, I say this: you have entered the wrong profession you have failed to realize that you will never conquer the spirit of youth. You will merely sour and sour and sour!!. In 10 years’ time, when we return for our re-union, it would be pleasant to note that the durrent professional sediment has been washed away by the tide of competitive progress. I think this is the next and biggest task before the Senate and the administration of this University. If they are as successful in this task as they have been in the increasing the actual physical corpus of this institution, then in 1972, I, for one, will give them a standing ovation.

Some people may wonder why I consider myself qualified to pass harsh judgment on professors. I remind those who wonder this, that students are rarely wrong about the merits of a professor. The faculty, the alumni, and the Senate itself should also be reminded that there are colonies of parasitic pedagogues roaming the campus. All is not well here at UNB, and it is time the Senate learned of this.

Well, you will say, all this is very fine. You will accuse me of offering nothing but negative criticisms tonight. To this I plead guilty. In an attempt to redeem myself, I shall quote a few rather interesting figures from the Brief presented by Unb in 1961 to the Commission of Enquiry on Higher Education.

In 1951-52, i.e., ten years ago, the provincial government granted UNB and amount of money which took care of 46.6% of our University expenses. Ten years later in 1961-1962, the provincial grant paid for only 18.2% of our expenses. This represents a decrease of 28.4% in support given by the provincial government to U.N.B. I’d like to present just one more series of figures to illustrate the fact that our government is failing to give us adequate support – at this most crucial juncture in our growth: in 1960-61, 49% of the Total budget of the University of Manitoba came from the Manitoba Provincial government; the University of Alberta received 46% of its budget from the Alberta government, the government of the State of Maine granted its State University 44% of its budget for the year of 1959-1960. And now comes the interesting part, the University of New Brunswick received only 20.6% of its budget from the New Brunswick government.

I won’t bore you with more figures. From the one I have given, it is alarmingly clear that we sorely need more support from the provincial government, and the class of ’62 will be watching to see whether or not their alma mater gets its fair share of assistance in the future.

Also this evening, I think we should pay tribute to the fine people of Fredericton, and especially to the merchants of this city of the year. There have been a few misunderstandings between town and gown, but in every case, it was indubitably the fault of the students.

In less than 48 hours from now, each of us will receive a degree. For some of us, it will be the only degree we shall ever receive; for others it will be the first in a long and impressive catalogue of academic distinctions. But let us try to affix some value, however vague and nebulous it must be, to this degree we shall receive Thursday. If we are bluntly truthful with ourselves, we must admit that most of us came here because we knew that by gaining some sort of academic recognition, we would tend to stand a better chance of making more money in later life. We like to thank that we came to college for other reasons. Indeed, some people have come to college for reasons other than the lure of higher pay in the future. Some students who are already financially affluent, have come because it is the thing to do. A degree is a “status symbol”. Others have come because they are dreamers, and they believe that the University climate will be kind to their ideological dispositions. This type usually graduates after one year. Some nasty people have said that young ladies come to university to find a husband. I tend to think these are a good number of young men who come to university to be thus found. At any rate, after having been here for four or five years, we now realize that in every village, every town, every city, every province, and every nation – there are jobs to be done – jobs that demand highly specialized and carefully prepared men and women. By staying here and working over the past few years, we have, by implication, nominated ourselves as candidates for these jobs. The degree we shall get on Thursday is but the successful first stage of the academic rocket which we hope will some day hurl us into the professional orbit of our choice. Not all of us will reach our targets. Fate a circumstances will destroy some of us in mid-air, and hurl us into oblivion. But if only a handful do succeed, then the mission of the University will have been successfully completed.

It is true that there will always be the man who is different enough to succeed without formal education. He is indeed the exception. His path is rarely, if ever, chosen deliberately but rather is either forced by necessity, or blundered into by a compelling inclination to do what is found to be stimulating and interesting. We have an incontestable advantage over such a man. Let us not permit this advantage to wither and rust away; let us see that subsequent stages of our career rocket are intelligently and prudently ignited. And above all, let us take time out to live; so many busy people discover late in life that they have neglected to do this. But then it is too late. In essence, what we are all searching for is just happiness and satisfaction. Life should never be a treadmill of frustration and torture.

In these last few days that we shall spend on this campus, most of us are not concerned with the great problems of international diplomacy of the cold war or the June 18th election. Nor are we unduly concerned at present with our own immediate futures. The question which keep recurring to us is simply: “How long will it be before I forget all the people I’ve known at U.N.B.? How much of UNB has become part of us? Only the swinging pendulum of time can answer these questions. But there are some things we will not and must not forget. Etched indelibly on our minds is the picture of the campus in the fall, with its carefully – tended lawns, its huge protective trees, its ivy-clad buildings, and its smell of cleanness. The prospect of exams is, at that time, very remote; there are parties to attend and football games to cheer at; and there’s the fall formal. It is the time of year when we have the most spending money. Then there’s Red ‘n Black to prepare for in November. We shall not see these things again. Then the snow arrives, and there’s always the odd snowball fight. In December we leave for home; and in January we’re back again. The Residence formals are held. Essay topics are assigned, and quickly forgotten. Winter Carnival is just around the corner. These are things we shall not see again. There’s the Spring formal, the Winter Carnival Party, the Brunswickan and year-Book parties. And there’s the growing fear of impending exams. But even so, we take time out to go to the Senior Class Party and of course it is the last Senior Class Party we shall ever attend. The exams are mountains that have to be climbed. But just on the other side of the mountain there’s graduation. And isn’t it graduation that we’ve been waiting for? Well, it’s here now, and some however have lost a little of the desire to leave. It’s just possible that after the Encaenial Ball is over and once the orchestra has left, and everything’s quiet again, - it’s just possible that we’ll feel a little along. But “feeling alone” is part of the unpleasant process of leaving anything that has become a part of us, and I definitely think that UNB has become part of us. More important still is the fact that we have become a part of it.

When we leave the campus on Friday, let each of us resolve to return 10 years from now to our alma mater.

On behalf of the executive of your class, I should like to wish each of you the very best of luck. And so until we return, I bid you farewell.