Last June, you continued the “longstanding tradition” of allowing the president to have the last word at commencement. I was taking part in the Princeton-in-Munich program at the time, so I was not able to see your speech in person. However, as I read the remarks a few days later, I began to well up halfway through and was practically weeping by the final paragraph. And as I reread the remarks now, halfway through what has been the hardest semester of my life, I can’t help but have the same reaction. I cannot tell you how much your words mean to me, how much they echo everything I believe in and how much they capture the reason I study at this University.
Sometimes, I feel as though I am surrounded by grade-grubbers and cynics, and I can’t tell who I cannot stand more. The grade-grubbers care nothing (or, perhaps more accurately, try very hard to seem as though they care nothing) for the simple act of learning and direct all questions in class toward examinations and papers, not the material. The cynics are hardened by this fact, and are convinced of the anti-intellectual culture of Princeton. They scoff at an emphasis on “diversity” as a public relations ploy to change the image away from an elitist institution. These groups, whose perceptions of learning at Princeton are mutually reinforcing, began to wear me down. I was almost convinced that they represent or know what Princeton is, convinced that Princeton is nothing more than a stop on the way to a high-paying career.
We often need a catalyst to give us the courage to affirm our beliefs. I believe that learning can be an end, not just a means. By that I mean we should debate and discuss to find what we believe, not just to validate already-held maxims. I mean we must never fool ourselves into believing we know absolute truths. And your speech offered me a lens to look beyond the grade-grubbers and the cynics, to see the Princeton I love and the Princeton I am proud of.
Last September, I was randomly assigned to a quad dorm room. And in your speech, I saw my freshman year roommates, who are now my sophomore year roommates. One of us gay, three of us straight; one of us Christian, three of us atheist; one of us black, one of us white, one of us Indian and one of us East Asian. One of us serves in the Singapore Army, and one of us is a member of the American Civil Liberties Union. From them I have learned more than I could have ever dreamed of learning in a classroom. With them I have unformed and reformed opinions countless times. I have learned different modes of thinking, learned to defend that which I believe to be right, and learned above all that we cannot be blinded by our own views and must see the intellectual authenticity in those radically different from our own.
No one who has sat in my common room could tell me that Princeton students don’t care about the quest for knowledge, not victory, in debate. No one could tell me that grades or cynicism should or can define the Princeton experience. And I don’t think my roommates are exceptions to the rule. Almost every person I’ve interacted with one-on-one at this school is driven in some way by a love of learning something they are passionate about.
Reading your speech, I was validated that mine are not ill-formed and whimsical ideals. They are the ideals that this academic institution embodies — one where, as you said, we are “asked to acquire learning so that [we] would have the intellectual foundation to engage with the great ideas.” This is my Princeton, devoid of the pettiness of those focused on grades and those who look to the past. And it was in these remarks that I at long last saw in words what had been growing so strongly in feeling this last year.
I have never been so proud and honored to call you my president, and Princeton my school.
Warmly,
Luke Massa ’13
Luke Massa is a sophomore from Ridley Park, Pa. He can be reached at lmassa@princeton.edu.