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| 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.
