Whittier College President’s Convocation Address by Sharon Herzberger September 4, 2016
New students, parents, grandparents, sisters and brothers, and all the friends and relatives gathered here tonight, let me add my welcome to those of others. Today, new Poets, you have matriculated into a college founded in 1887, almost 130 years ago. Our founders established this new institution with a set of principles and values that continue to guide us today and that will be important to you throughout your time on this campus.
Let me tell you a little bit of history that will give you an idea about why Whittier has been so successful in preparing graduates for important roles across the decades of our existence.
Our founders were Quakers who named both our town and our College after the poet John Greenleaf Whittier. Whittier, himself a Quaker, came from a poor farming family. He grew up to run a newspaper and found a political party, but most important he devoted his life to the abolishment of slavery. His abolitionist poetry – ironically – was used by President Lincoln to spur men to fight in the Civil War.
With John Greenleaf Whittier as a role model, our founders adopted a mission to educate students to respect people of all religious backgrounds, all races and ethnicities, and from all places of origin. A half century ago, President Nixon’s cousin and fellow Poet, the writer Jessamyn West sat on a stage at a ceremony like this one and noted as she looked out over the audience that there were more Muslims among the student body than Quakers and that John Greenleaf Whittier would be proud.
Our Founders and John Greenleaf Whittier would be proud to look over our campus today and see that no racial or ethnic group holds the majority and that you come from all over America and – as represented by the flags behind me – from so many countries of the world. They also would be proud that today, as intended from our beginning, you will learn from and alongside faculty who will teach you to see the world’s challenges from multiple perspectives, and to question each one.
Graduating from Whittier will mean you are likely to become a leader in your community and your profession. Whittier excels in sending students on to earn PhDs and all manner of professional degrees. We have a disproportionate number of alumni with the titles CEO, president, and vice president, and our alumni sit in the executive suites of leading companies known all over the world. About one quarter of our graduates historically have gone into teaching, and an overwhelming number of these ended up heading schools as principals and superintendents. Who sitting here graduated from one of Whittier’s high schools? Well, then, you’ve been guided by Sandy Thorstenson, California Superintendent of the Year and a fellow Poet from the Class of 1977.
And, of course, Whittier is one of those rare colleges to have educated a president of the United States. Some will point out that Richard Nixon was a flawed leader (and I in turn will point out that he learned his ethics from Duke Law School). But let’s remember that he anticipated the importance of preserving our environment and created the EPA, he fought for equal rights for African-Americans and for Native Americans, and of course he changed our world by reaching across the Pacific to establish relations with China.
Part of Whittier’s history that you will experience tonight stems from our founding commitment to teach you about your responsibilities as a human being and as the leader you are likely to become. In a few minutes and then often during your time at Whittier, you will be asked to sit in silence. To our Quaker founders and to our community today, silence encourages listening to the “small voice within” that calls on each of us to do what is right. Equally significant, sitting in silence reminds us to listen – an act that is increasingly rare. Listening allows us to hear voices different from our own, to learn from them, and to use this knowledge to seek common ground. In a world where there is more talking than true listening, just think about what might be achieved if we all remained silent and purposefully listened just a little more.
My husband and I are the grandparents of Norah, Class of 2030. This summer we had the experience of taking care of Norah when her parents took a little vacation on their own. Children learn skills like walking and talking at widely different ages, and Norah was about a year and a half before she said one intelligible word. In a few months she will turn three, and now her words never stop. And as many parents and grandparents here can recall very well, her favorite words seem to be “no” and “why.” Norah has the charming and also slightly irritating habit of asking “why” as many times in a row as we allow before we attempt to change the subject. Parents, do you remember this stage?
I was sitting there one day going through this routine with her asking why, my many attempts to explain something, and her asking why once again. And I realized that two year olds are practicing just what our Quaker founders would applaud. Sure, this is a ploy to stall bedtime, but it is also the way for two year olds to learn about their world and understand the people in it. And it is clear that toddlers, with no preconceptions, are open to explore just about anything and everything in their effort to absorb information – and absorb they do.
How different is the situation with adults. Somewhere along the way from toddlerhood to adulthood, we lose that openness to information. Social psychologists talk about human beings becoming “cognitive misers” – we think only as much as we absolutely must before making a decision or rendering a judgment. We assume we know answers. We rely too much upon stereotypes and rumor. And when we do take the time to question, we seek information consistent with our preconceptions and biases, rather than open ourselves to uncertainty and doubt.
One of my favorite quotes is by Albert Einstein who said, “Only two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former.” Mr. Einstein was not talking about humans’ basic intelligence; he was talking about our tendency to use it.
As a social psychologist myself and as president of this very special college with this illustrious history, I can say with confidence that human stupidity and the human inclination to be miserly in our thinking are not inevitable. With practice and prodding, we can rise above.
That’s what this College is all about.
When I look out at the students sitting before me tonight, I realize that there are probably 200 different reasons why you chose Whittier College. Let me tell you one more. Because of the prodding you will receive from our dedicated, determined, and very talented faculty, because of the diversity of thought and background you will encounter on this campus, and because of our commitment to founding traditions that will remind you often to stop and listen, to think and question why, you will learn habits of mind to prepare you for using all of the intelligence with which you were born.
And given the positions of leadership and authority that you – like Poets before you - will assume once you leave this school, you have an obligation to do so.
Newest Poets, on this beautiful evening, I suspect that you are not yet pondering the positions of authority you will once hold. You are probably thinking about the next few hours and about tomorrow and about Wednesday when your academic adventure truly begins. But your family, your faculty, and all who are gathered here tonight know that your time on this campus will pass quickly. We know that there is a world that awaits, eager to benefit from the education you will receive here.
You have chosen well in choosing Whittier College. And with your matriculation, you have been granted a gift. Tonight for the first time we will ask you to sit in silence and listen, and as you do, commit yourself to take full advantage of all that this extraordinary gift can bring.
