As the school year concludes, allow me to share my
June 4th remarks to the Needham High School graduating Class of
2012. Here’s hoping we all have an
opportunity to get lost this summer, if only for a little bit.
Members of the class of
2012: Get lost!
No really, I mean
it. Get lost! Tomorrow, next year, and for the rest
of your life, make sure you take time to turn left when you should go right;
turn off the GPS every once and a while; ignore your schedule on occasion;
wander off the path a bit; go solo when the crowd is pressing on you to head
one way; strike up a conversation with the loner in the back of economics class
everyone else ignores…Just take off to parts unknown and go get lost. I am
encouraging you to get lost in order to live and experience a full life, a life
of learning, of laughs, of creativity and self-discovery.
So, go ahead, Get lost!
I know…the predictable
and planned is comfortable and secure.
It’s easier and less messy to stick to the script and talk to the same
friends and tread the same route others have. It is safer, saner, and simpler
to stay within the confines of a college or career plan that ensures smooth,
uncomplicated, and conventional success. The rewards seem certain; the
obstacles few and nothing is daunting.
But if you deviate from
the routine, wander a bit, and if you allow yourself to become a little
confused and discombobulated, isn’t it possible you might meet new people, hear
a unique perspective, and experience the mysterious? And could these new and different encounters transform and
shape you?
Margaret J. Wheatley, a
brilliant professor, thinker and writer believes individuals and organizations
flourish when they experience a certain amount of chaos and confusion in their
lives. She thinks our lives and
our world will only improve when we accept the unexpected, listen to diverse
voices, and confront confusion with a sense of awe, tolerance, and a
willingness to learn.
She writes: “As we work together to restore hope to the
future, we need to include a new and strange ally—our willingness to be
disturbed. Our willingness to have
our beliefs and ideas challenged by what others think. We can’t be creative if we refuse to be
confused. Change always starts with
confusion; cherished interpretations must dissolve to make way for the
new. Of course it’s scary to give
up what we know, but the abyss is where newness lives. Great ideas and inventions miraculously
appear in the space of not knowing.
If we can move through the fear and enter the abyss, we are rewarded
greatly.”
As a young and newly
minted high school English teacher in urban Los Angeles, I learned long ago
that a willingness to be disturbed, an enthusiasm for risk-taking, requires a
leap of faith: A leap of faith in
others and a willingness to trust and believe in yourself.
One late Friday evening
after correcting assignments in my classroom, after everyone had already gone
home for the weekend, I found myself waiting for the bus outside my school’s
locked main entrance on Central Avenue in the Watts section of South Central
LA. I needed to get downtown to
catch a transfer to my home in East LA.
I stood there in the gathering darkness exhausted, lonely, hungry, and
defeated after another week of trying to figure out how to craft exciting
lessons, connect in a positive way to my students, discipline unruly
sophomores, and understand and appreciate the lives of my mostly
African-American students.
But I was really
wondering what, exactly, I was doing 2,000 miles away from family and friends
in an environment where I looked different from everyone else and was unsure if
what I was doing even mattered. My
students hated me, I was sure of that; I didn’t know what I was doing; and they
desperately wanted to learn… but deserved someone who had a clue!
And what a loser I was on
a Friday night correcting papers instead of hanging out with friends. On top of all that, here I was standing
on a street corner in Watts—loud shouting, police sirens, and gunfire erupted
in the neighborhood, and the stupid bus hadn’t arrived. All of a sudden, an old
blue Buick with tinted windows came to a screeching halt at the curb… I tensed up as the rear window slowly
lowered and a young man leaned out and exclaimed: “Mr. G! It’s
Dwayne. What are you doing out
here, man?? Are you lost?”
Momentarily frozen with
fear I realized I was, indeed, lost.
Dwayne, a student I had
argued with that very morning, threw open the car door and said, “Come on, Mr.
G., get in. We’ll give you a ride
downtown.” Wary, but relieved and
trusting that somehow this would work out OK, I jumped into a car full of
strangers, and we flew down Central Avenue on my way home. Dwayne and I got to know each other
pretty well after that ride and eventually—he told me later—I even became a
half way decent teacher.
I was unsure of myself,
anxious about what I was doing, uncertain if I was doing it the right way or
having any impact on students, and mostly, I was scared and uncomfortable and
without a good road map. But
looking back, I view those years teaching in LA as the best of my life—being
confused, disturbed, and lost for a while set me on a journey of self-discovery
and fulfillment. Oh, sure, a
journey beset with problems, dead ends, and struggles—but one that helped me
mature, grow stronger, and find a challenging career. Along the way, I made
lifelong friends, including Dwayne.
Getting lost means taking
chances and accepting a little chaos in your life and relationships. It requires openness to fresh ideas and
a willingness to learn and to make yourself vulnerable and exposed. But the reward is great and life is
more than fun and fulfilling. You
see, getting lost in many ways is an act of hope—hope in oneself and in a world
that desperately needs your commitment, courage, and leadership.
And so, members of the
Class of 2012, with great respect, admiration, and love, I wish you the best.
Now, GO GET LOST, will you?!!