RAMBLE: You Are Not Special

SOURCE:  YouTube

I usually listen to the radio as I get ready for work in the morning.  Usually the only items I pay attention to are the traffic updates, the news, and sometimes the Hollywood gossip feature.  The rest of the items that fill the airwaves fall into the "background noise" category.

So, in order for something on the radio to catch me attention, it has to be something unusual.  This unusual sound byte perked my ears up last week.  The deejay mentioned a high school graduation speech given by the high school's English teacher.  The speaker stood in front of the Wellesley High School graduating class and said, "You are not special."  This speech was so extraordinary that its video on YouTube has gone viral and has sparked debate about how appropriate the speech was for a high school graduation.

Right off the bat, sure, I agree with the opponents of this speech.  How could you say to a bunch of happy high school seniors full of promise and dreams that they are not special?  Why, that's almost down right rude and mean to say, especially on their special day.  However, critics are taking these four words, "you are not special" out of context.  Mr. McCullough is not insulting his beloved students, he is encouraging them to be all that they can be.

Mr. McCullough states:

"Yes, you’ve been pampered, cosseted, doted upon, helmeted, bubble-wrapped.  Yes, capable adults with other things to do have held you, kissed you, fed you, wiped your mouth, wiped your bottom, trained you, taught you, tutored you, coached you, listened to you, counseled you, encouraged you, consoled you and encouraged you again.  You’ve been nudged, cajoled, wheedled and implored.  You’ve been feted and fawned over and called sweetie pie.  Yes, you have.  And, certainly, we’ve been to your games, your plays, your recitals, your science fairs.  Absolutely, smiles ignite when you walk into a room, and hundreds gasp with delight at your every tweet.  Why, maybe you’ve even had your picture in the Townsman!  And now you’ve conquered high school… and, indisputably, here we all have gathered for you, the pride and joy of this fine community, the first to emerge from that magnificent new building…  But do not get the idea that you're anything special.  Because you're not."

Hmm, I have to say that I agree with him.  Parenting philosophies have changed over time.  We no longer believe in the notion that children should be seen and not heard.  We provide our children with everything we can to nurture them, love them, protect them, guide them, and educate them.  We celebrate all achievements whether big or small, turn negatives into positives, and teach rather than punish.  We love our children and only want the very best for them.  And honestly, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.  However, what if all of our love and care creates a false sense of entitlement in our children?

He goes on to justify:

"You see, if everyone is special, then no one is.  If everyone gets a trophy, trophies become meaningless.  In our unspoken but not so subtle Darwinian competition with one another--which springs, I think, from our fear of our own insignificance, a subset of our dread of mortality--we have of late, we Americans, to our detriment, come to love accolades more than genuine achievement.  We have come to see them as the point--and we’re happy to compromise standards, or ignore reality, if we suspect that’s the quickest way, or only way, to have something to put on the mantelpiece, something to pose with, crow about, something with which to leverage ourselves into a better spot on the social totem pole.  No longer is it how you play the game, no longer is it even whether you win or lose, or learn or grow, or enjoy yourself doing it… Now it’s “So what does this get me?”  As a consequence, we cheapen worthy endeavors, and building a Guatemalan medical clinic becomes more about the application to Bowdoin than the well-being of Guatemalans.  It’s an epidemic--and in its way, not even dear old Wellesley High is immune… one of the best of the 37,000 nationwide, Wellesley High School… where good is no longer good enough, where a B is the new C, and the mid-level curriculum is called Advanced College Placement.  And I hope you caught me when I said “one of the best.”  I said “one of the best” so we can feel better about ourselves, so we can bask in a little easy distinction, however vague and unverifiable, and count ourselves among the elite, whoever they might be, and enjoy a perceived leg up on the perceived competition.  But the phrase defies logic.  By definition there can be only one best.  You’re it or you’re not."

His logic is one that is highly debatable and controversial to some, but I have to admit that I agree with him.  Despite his words being hard to swallow at first, his point is simple:  Everyone does not receive a trophy at the end of the game.  Life is about winning AND losing.  You have to learn how to win and lose.  While the sting of failure is often avoided at all costs, failure is the source of some of the greatest lessons in life.

Mr. McCullough advises:

"The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you’re a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer.  You’ll note the founding fathers took pains to secure your inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness--quite an active verb, “pursuit”--which leaves, I should think, little time for lying around watching parrots rollerskate on Youtube.  The first President Roosevelt, the old rough rider, advocated the strenuous life.  Mr. Thoreau wanted to drive life into a corner, to live deep and suck out all the marrow.  The poet Mary Oliver tells us to row, row into the swirl and roil.  Locally, someone… I forget who… from time to time encourages young scholars to carpe the heck out of the diem.  The point is the same: get busy, have at it.  Don’t wait for inspiration or passion to find you.  Get up, get out, explore, find it yourself, and grab hold with both hands."

He concludes:

"None of this day-seizing, though, this YLOOing, should be interpreted as license for self-indulgence.  Like accolades ought to be, the fulfilled life is a consequence, a gratifying byproduct.  It’s what happens when you’re thinking about more important things.  Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view.  Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you.  Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly.  Exercise free will and creative, independent thought not for the satisfactions they will bring you, but for the good they will do others, the rest of the 6.8 billion--and those who will follow them.  And then you too will discover the great and curious truth of the human experience is that selflessness is the best thing you can do for yourself.  The sweetest joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you’re not special.  Because everyone is."

And that to me, is the REAL point of Mr. McCullough's speech.  Don't merely think that you are special.  Instead, BE special.  Live up to your potential.  Those are words that we should all continue to live by.

RAMBLE: Graduation

Punahou School Commencement 2012

Tonight I attended my cousin's graduation from high school.  His graduation took me down memory lane when I graduated from Punahou School and stood on the same exact stage to receive my diploma.  Not much has really changed since I graduated.  The Punahou Symphony Orchestra still plays Pomp and Circumstance as the graduates walk into the Blaisdell Arena arm-and-arm with each other.  Sprays of plumeria still adorn the stage backdrop along with the huge Punahou seal.  The graduates still sing Oahu Wa and cheer "Strawberry Shortcake".  But most of all, all the graduates were filled with the same excitement, pride, and hope that I felt when I graduated from high school.

Of all my graduations, my high school graduation meant the most to me.  My college graduation probably rates at the bottom of the three.  It was pretty lackluster.  I barely remember most of what was said or even who the key note speaker was that day.  All I remember was that I was ordered to walk at graduation when my parents found out that I was thinking about skipping the whole thing all together and picking up my diploma from the registrar's office.  I possessed a nonchalant attitude as I strutted down the aisle of the Stan Sheriff Arena.  I received my college diploma without a job lined up or any clue what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Instead, I was intending to re-enroll as a post baccalaureate student until I figured out what in the world I wanted to do with my life.

My law school graduation rates second because that was a personal achievement for me.  Attending and graduating from law school was an accumulation of my effort, perseverance, and a little bit of courage.  Law school was tough, but getting through law school and passing the bar exam was something I wanted to do for myself and I was committed to achieving my goal.  Thus, my graduation was more personal in nature for me.

However, my high school graduation tops my list because the event was a rite of passage.  It was the end of childhood and the beginning to endless possibilities.  I remember standing on stage with the realization that there were so many doors that were open thanks to my parents and family for giving me roots and my teachers for giving me branches.  Now, I needed to find leaves.

My high school graduation was also important for my grandmother who as a young teen was forced to put aside her desire to attend high school in order to help her family.  She truly believed that an education was a master key that opened so many doors and always emphasized our studies.  I am her youngest grandchild, so she didn't think that she would be around when I graduated from high school.  However, thanks to great medical advances and probably good genes, my grandmother lived long enough to see me graduate from high school.  I remember sitting on stage and looking out into the audience and seeing her have with the biggest beaming smile.  After the ceremony, she hung a beautiful double maile lei around my neck and openly wept in my arms.  It was a moment that I will never forget and still brings tears to my eyes when I remember it.

My grandmother was still alive when I graduated from college and law school, and passed the bar exam, but my high school graduation was the biggest for her and for me.  It was the first time I realized why education was so important.  It was more than fulfilling academic requirements, I was fulfilling an unrealized dream for my grandmother and other women like her who sacrificed their education.

Tonight, as watched my cousin and his high school classmates receive their diplomas, I walked down memory lane and remembered how fortunate I am to not only have the opportunity to graduate from an outstanding school, but the support from my family.  Congratulations to the Class of 2012!