chancellor@ku.edu
We return for the 135th time to celebrate, by walking down a Kansas hill, the graduation of a special class of people. You identify yourself today as one who has both chosen, and earned, a life-long identity as a University of Kansas graduate.
What does this mean?
You are someone willing to explain for the rest of your life, to hotel registration clerks across the globe, that "No, that bird with the yellow beak on my credit card is not a cute little chicken. It is a glorious and proud mythical bird called a Jayhawk. Be forewarned, it has the potential to soar whenever its wings flap."
It is worth dwelling for a moment on this Jayhawk identity. It is clear cut and unambiguous. Forevermore, you are a Jayhawk; know how unique this makes you.
Other universities have pondered their chances for such a clear and unequivocal identity for their graduates, but let's be honest, they have failed. Compare the Jayhawk to other identities. Who are the real wildcats? Do they come from Kentucky, Northwestern, Arizona, or could it be some place called, Kansas State? You see a wildcat on the street. Who are you dealing with?
How do you distinguish between a Clemson Tiger and a Missouri Tiger? Would Clemson want to be associated with Quantrill's Raiders? Eleven universities want their students to be known as Bear Cats, 23 as Bears, 14 as Bobcats, and 12 as Broncos. What confusion! How unimaginative. Still other universities apparently lack the creativity and innovation that gives us possession of a whole animal called a Jayhawk. They settle for part of a bird, like a Hawk's eye, or the mere long horns of a Texas steer, or sometimes only part of a human body, like a heel covered by tar.
How sticky!
You get the point.
Jayhawks are unique. They are totally owned and operated by the graduates of the University of Kansas. No one will be able to compare you with a zoological version because there is no zoological or anatomically correct version.
Walking down the hill also means that you have lifetime access to the Jayhawk mutual protection society. You can be in Beijing or Heathrow or Tokyo or Melbourne and if you hear the shout "Rock Chalk," you immediately reply, "Jayhawk," before you even know if the person is reaching out to shake your hand or sell you a watch.
This universal Jayhawk identity demonstrates why this walk down the hill is so important. As we say every year, "THE WALK IS THE CEREMONY."
A Jayhawk graduation walk empowers you to look both ways at once, looking back at Mt. Oread and forward to the world beyond the stadium. You can savor the past and your Mt. Oread memories, while simultaneously looking to the horizon and the special opportunities you see in your future.
In Roman mythology there was a special god which captured this duality. Janus was the Roman god of beginnings. He was the guardian deity of gates and doors. Artistically Janus is represented with two opposite facing heads, placed back to back so Janus could look in two directions at once, one side looking forward, the other side looking back.
You are at that Janus intersection in your life. You are going forward, but you know that you did not arrive at this gate on your own. No one walked the hill today by themselves. Parents, family, friends, and teachers all walked with you.
You know the investments that have been made in you. Your family has cared about you to a greater extent than you fully realize.
Even though it seemed like your mother kept the cell phone humming, and produced some awkward moments with the timing of her call, you have no idea how many times she wanted to call, but knew that you had to deal with this by yourself. Those seemingly inane calls your freshman year? Mom was just checking your depression levels now that you and your high school sweetheart agreed to be "just good friends." You probably don't know that she called the Dean's office, too.
Although it may have seemed to some of you that there was a faculty conspiracy to keep you here longer than you intended, know how proud of your achievement the faculty is, and how they will brag in reference letters about your dedication and intelligence, conveniently forgetting the obvious somnambulism of that 8:00 class. As the English majors know, another word for somnambulism is sleep walking.
More than anything else, this walk down the hill is a kind of jumping off day for Jayhawk flight. Know that you are part of something much bigger than your personal story. 190,000 Jayhawks have preceded you, and have shown you how the gates of the future are yours to open.
The best way to think about this jumping off day comes from a popular TV ad which many of you have seen. It is an ad for a Suzuki Vitara.
The commercial opens in the living room of a suburban home with a husband kissing his wife goodbye as he sets off for work. He nonchalantly walks out the front door and down the sidewalk as the camera follows him on his way to work. As he gets to his front gate, the camera dramatically pulls back to reveal him stepping off the edge of a cliff in a free-falling parachute jump, which lands him next to his Suzuki Grand Vitara. He gets in the car and demonstrates its off-road capabilities, zipping around the countryside. The car finally accelerates through an intersection and disappears into the distance. A final voiceover asks, "You want more out of life? We're giving you the green light. . . Go."
So let me identify some Jayhawks who have the green light, with the understanding that by naming them, I am naming you also, because we are all in this Jayahwk adventure together.
Let me begin by recognizing Stephanie White of Greensburg, Kansas, who had a few obstacles to her walking the hill today. But she and her parents, David and Kathy, and her brother, Zack who will be walking in three years, are alive and well and here today, not about to let things interfere with Stephanie's walk down the hill.
Jayhawk Talia Martin, from Fort Hall, Idaho, on the Soshone-Bannock Reservation, is ready to soar as a pharmaceutical chemist. She went to Haskell first, then KU. She is ready to prepare the way for other Native Americans to study science. And KU looks forward to future programs with Dr. Linda Warner, Haskell's new president and a former Jayhawk.
Jayhawk Neil Melton walked the hill today. When he was a sophomore Neil was deployed to Kuwait and Iraq. We are especially thankful that you are here today, Neil.
Jayhawk Jesse Haug walked the hill today because he is receiving three degrees, in Economics, French, and Mathematics. He'll be studying at the Sorbonne in Paris and Bielefeld in Germany, getting his Masters in Models and Methods of Quantitative Economics. He is a Jayhawk Erasmus Scholar ready to show Europe how high an unfettered Jayhawk can fly.
Jayhawk Jennifer Vo steps through a doorway today. She's headed for a small town named San Marcos, in Honduras, where she will teach English. Jennifer's students have a great opportunity to learn from her, just as she does from them. You honor all of us, Jennifer, by caring about others.
I asked a few students for their advice and graduate Kyle Foraker supplied this bit of wisdom: stop playing video games. You can't justify it by claiming they will help you become a great surgeon.
And that is where I leave you today, in the midst of this Jayhawk joy.
As you pass through the gate on the way to your future, take a moment and think about how we are going to preserve this green space we share.
If we don't put a price on the carbon dioxide we're building up, or on our addiction to oil, we'll never nurture the innovation we need to survive.
Think about it. What will be the future we create? You've got the green light. Go Jayhawks. . .Flap your wings!
