Vartabedian: A Message to Our School Graduates

It’s commencement day and I know what you’re thinking, graduates.

Let’s get on with the partying and dispense with the formalities. Speeches tend to be long and boring. It’s all show and no fun, except for the beach ball that goes flying in the air until some teacher catches up with it. Then fly the cheers.

Okay, so the exercises aren’t exactly a trip to the seashore with your friends and do cut into some personal time. But take heed. Some of the best messages are delivered on this day, whether you want to hear them or not.

Most often, they are delivered by people with experience—those who’ve been through the school of hard knocks and benefited from the wisdom of an intellect.

The one message I was asked to deliver at a Whittier Tech graduation came from the heart. After compiling a litany of notes, I finally came to my senses.

Is this what students want to hear? Talk about tedious addresses. I wouldn’t want to hear that. It’s more like a lecture from a parent.

So I tossed my dissertation, put a few thoughts on an index card, added some humor, focused on brevity, and got some applause. I suspect not by the content of my message but the fact that it ended so quickly.

I remember the opening line, keeping in mind that this was a vocational school and, at the time, students had done a fair measure of cooperative training.

“The best gift you all can receive is not necessarily a check. Or a gift certificate to some clothing store. It’s a job, college acceptance, or a military career.” I didn’t have to add another word.

When my daughter graduated from Northeastern University, the commencement speaker had us rollicking in the aisles. I would have expected nothing less from Erma Bombeck. The syndicated columnist was on top of her game and the audience keeled over with laughter. Others I have heard bored me to death.

Levity is always a good stress-buster at these affairs and I do wish speakers would opt to lighten up a bit and not be so deadpan serious. That goes for student speakers, mayors, principals, and anyone else at the dais. As the saying goes, “kiss.”

On this graduation day, whether high school or college, you don’t need a speaker to tell you that life can be a challenge. You already know that. Instead, take all the education you have learned and apply it to some good in your society.

Be true to your fellow man. Treat every day as a bonus, not something you take for granted, because in the long run, time is the most precious commodity we all can enjoy—until it’s too late.

Experience is the only school from which no one ever graduates. Because school has ended, it doesn’t mean the learning has stopped. The beginning starts once the commencement has ended.

After attending six graduation exercises with my children, the only wisdom I tried to impart was to travel the road of success by putting one foot in front of the other, not taking a shortcut. Shortcuts only lead to detours.

It could very well be the same common sense my parents drilled into me. My father was a great one for platitudes. One of his favorites was: “Success comes in cans, failure in can’ts.” I respected those words, much as I hated to tell him.

The man was a philosopher. On the wall of his coffee shop stood a sign that made his customers think: “Please don’t ask for credit. I don’t want to chase you all over h— when you die.” He was a survivor of the Armenian Genocide, but most of all he survived the obstacles of daily living. He never left a bill unpaid.

How this guy ever sent me to Boston University and financed my brother’s aeronautical training on such a meager salary is beyond me. Like many immigrants of his kind, he plied the American system to the hilt, graduated from Wentworth Institute, and then opened a luncheonette. He was generous to a fault.

One might say he wasted an engineering degree dishing out burgers. On the contrary. There’s a certain lesson you don’t learn in books. They don’t teach you tolerance in school, respect or patience.

Such qualities as kindness, citizenship, and perseverance are attributes we often learn on our own. If we apply them to our everyday lifestyle, it’s bound to sustain us immeasurably.

On this graduation day, accept your diploma or degree with a sense of pride. The world is now your oyster. Take it away and don’t bring it back.

Tom Vartabedian

Tom Vartabedian

Tom Vartabedian is a retired journalist with the Haverhill Gazette, where he spent 40 years as an award-winning writer and photographer. He has volunteered his services for the past 46 years as a columnist and correspondent with the Armenian Weekly, where his pet project was the publication of a special issue of the AYF Olympics each September.
Tom Vartabedian

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