2009 Grand Recognition Ceremony Keynote Address
By Stephen Nowicki, Ph.D., Professor of Biology, Dean of Undergraduate Education
It’s always a pleasure for me to talk to smart people, and it’s also always a pleasure for me to talk to young people. So you can only imagine how much fun it is for me right now to talk to an outstanding group of people such as yourselves who are both young and smart! Of course, you and I both know you’re not the youngest people I could talk to — just find me a group of talking two-year-olds and they’d beat you on the youthfulness front, hands down. But, even though you’re getting a bit elderly as 7th graders, you may be the most brilliant group of 7th graders I’ve ever had the good fortune to address. And 7th graders are still pretty youthful, so you certainly qualify as smart and young. Indeed, I have it on good authority — that authority being the fine folks who bring us the SAT and ACT tests — that you’re really smart, the very best of the best, and for this I salute you!
I also salute your parents. They’ve done much to nurture your talents along the way, to help you arrive at the recognition you’re receiving today. Always thank your parents for all they do for you! And thank your teachers, too, who I’m sure have also had a hand in developing your smarts.
But, after all the thanking is over, this day is your day. You are recognized as among the most academically gifted students in the 7th grade across the entire country, having achieved test scores that could already get you into a competitive college or university, a good five years ahead of schedule! So let me congratulate you once again.
As it turns out, I have a vivid memory of my time in the 7th grade, and I’m sure my experience was quite different from yours. This isn’t just because I entered the 7th grade a full 41 years before you did, although that time offset surely does account for some of the differences in our respective experiences. When I was in 7th grade, for example, there was no internet and in fact there weren’t even hand-held calculators, let alone personal computers. There were only three channels on TV, and no such thing as “cable,” and even if there were more channels, “Sesame Street” would not begin to air until two years after I entered the 7th grade — how did we ever learn our letters and numbers?! There was no Harry Potter and, in fact, J.K. Rowling was only two years old when I was in 7th grade. There were no iPods, no cell phones, no Wii’s, in fact no video games at all — what did we do for fun?!
But there’s a bigger, more substantive difference between your 7th grade experience and mine, and this is what I want to focus on at the moment. You see, as 7th graders, you’re now being celebrated for a remarkable achievement — your outstanding performance on a key academic test — and you deserve this recognition. My experience in 7th grade, however, was largely one of understanding for the first time how far I still had to go. It’s not that I was a bad student — actually, I was a smart kid, too. The difference has to do with the fact that, when I was your age, what we called “elementary school” ran from kindergarten to grade 6. Then starting at grade 7, you went to a different school — called “junior high school” back then. Nowadays, students more often transition to what we typically call a “middle school” starting at 6th or 5th grade. But back in my day, you stayed in your first school until you finished the 6th grade and then you moved on. So, for me, going into the 7th grade was my first big transition. And it was a big wake up call.
You see, I had achieved much in elementary school. I learned to play trombone in the 4th grade and had become so accomplished on that instrument that my friend and fellow trombonist Paul Zieger and I were asked to perform a duet at our final 6th grade assembly. I was a favorite of my 5th grade teacher, Miss Lindsey, partly because she knew I was smart and partly because I had come through with the costumes for our 5th grade play (my mother helped a lot with that, too, I must admit). And not only did I shine in my 6th grade class under the watchful eye of Mrs. Ricotta (yes, she shared her name with that pasty white cheese, but she was widely acknowledged as a masterful teacher), I also was recognized as sufficiently responsible to be a captain of the Crossing Guards. Many of you may not recognize this honor, but most kids walked to their elementary school in my day and so it was important that the older, wiser, more responsible students serve as “Crossing Guards” at key intersections — with badges and everything — to make sure that the younger children only crossed the street when it was safe to do so. As a Crossing Guard captain, I was acknowledged to be one of the wisest and most responsible of all the students in the 6th grade.
So this all sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? I mean I had it made in the 6th grade! Then came 7th grade, my big transition to a new school, and my wake up call. The rules were different, the teachers were different, and — because we came from several different elementary schools — the majority of my classmates were new, too. And, importantly, I went from being one of the older, wiser students in my elementary school, recognized for my accomplishments, to being one of the youngest students in my new junior high school, someone who had to start the long climb again.
Some of you may know the myth of Sisyphus. Sisyphus was a Greek king and, for reasons we don’t need to go into here, the Gods decided to punish him. His punishment was this: Sisyphus was made to roll a really big boulder up a steep hill, but before he could reach the top of the hill, the rock would always roll back down again, forcing him to begin again. And he had to do this over and over for all eternity. What a drag!
Well, I didn’t yet know Greek mythology when I was in the 7th grade, but if I had, I’m sure I would have felt like Sisyphus. I had achieved so much by the time I reached the 6th grade and then, when I got promoted to the 7th grade, I had to start all over and build a new record. Just like rolling a boulder up a hill only to have it roll down and then start all over again. Now, lest you start to get depressed, let me assure you that this story of mine has an uplifting ending — at least that’s what I’m aiming for. But not yet…
I did well in junior high school — I continued to do well in my classes, I had really good friends, and I became even more involved in music (unlike my elementary school where all I could do is play trombone duets, my junior high school actually had a band, and my band teacher, Mr. Conrad, was a great guy). By the time I reached the 9th grade — that was the last year of junior high school when I was growing up — I had once again made it to the top!
And then came 10th grade, the first grade of high school back then, which took me to another school, and another wake up call. Yet again, I went from being on the top to having to start all over. By this time, I had learned about Sisyphus and that famous Greek myth took on new meaning for me.
Perhaps now you can see a pattern emerging. Sure enough, I did well in high school and by the time I was a senior, I had put together an academic record that landed me a spot in a great college, I had made new and even better friends, I had become a good enough musician that I was actually getting paid for playing with a local musical company. And then came college, and I had to start all over again. I did well in college, but then came graduate school, and I had to start all over again. I completed my Ph.D. and got a job as an assistant professor here at Duke, and I had to start all over again. And then I earned tenure, but I still wasn’t done, because promotion to full professor still needed to be earned. And then I became a dean a couple of years ago and had to start all over, once again, in this new role.
Maybe this sounds like a downer, but I don’t mean it to be. It’s not the case that life is an endless struggle. In fact, it turns out that my comparison to Sisyphus was all wrong and, thankfully, I figured this out at about my 3rd transition, went I left high school and went to college. You see, Sisyphus had to repeat a task over and over again that was both arduous and pointless. But the educational transitions I’ve been talking about, while they may be challenging at times, are certainly not pointless. Rather, they reflect the fact that there’s always something more to learn, something more to achieve. And that’s a good thing. Imagine, if you can, that as a 7th grader you had already learned all you could learn, and done all you could possibly do. That would make the rest of your life a pretty boring time. It’s been 41 years since I was in the 7th grade. And every 3 or 4 or 5 years since then, I’ve run across a new set of challenges — a new set of things to learn, a new set of things to do. And, now that I look back on it, that’s what’s made my life so great — both fun and fulfilling.
I say “challenges” but challenges are really “opportunities,” and it’s good to always have new opportunities ahead of you. I don’t know if I have another 41 years to come in my life (maybe if I’m lucky, eat right, and get enough sleep I will), but however long I have left I hope it continues to be filled with new challenges — new opportunities — so that I can continue to have a fun and fulfilling life.
Here’s my first take-home message: You’re rightly celebrated today for what you’ve achieved so far, and I applaud you for that, but keep in mind that this is just a beginning. Indeed, always keep in mind that every achievement is an invitation to a new set of opportunities. Always embrace the next step and always keep looking forward. That’s how you’ll stay both smart and youthful.
I have two other take-home messages for you. Neither follows exactly from the story I’ve told, but I think they’re important nonetheless. The first is this: You should be proud of your accomplishments — this one and the many that I’m sure will follow for you — but always stay humble. You are an academically gifted group and we here at Duke are delighted to recognize you formally for being so. But remember that talent comes in many forms and that most people are good at something. As you celebrate your talents, also remember to look for the talents of others. Their talents may be different from yours, and they may not even seem that important to you. But when you meet new people, you should always seek to know what their talents are, what their gifts are — and to celebrate their gifts along with yours.
Here’s my final take-home message: Seek to always do good with your talents. It’s no use being gifted if you don’t use your gifts to do something worthwhile. This may be something big — like writing a great novel, or discovering the cure for a terrible disease, or becoming president of the United States — or it may be something smaller, like helping someone learn to read. Celebrate your talents and gifts by putting them to good use!
Now I know it’s hard to make a big difference with your talents when you’re in 7th grade. Or even 8th grade. But it’s never too soon to start planning, to start dreaming. And you never know when your talents might come in handy. When I was a school Crossing Guard captain at my elementary school, the talent I brought to that position was to be smart enough and responsible enough to know how to help smaller children cross the street safely, so they could get to and from school to start their education. This wasn’t really a big thing, but it was something — I did help those younger kids, at least a little. Now, over four decades later, I find myself the dean for undergraduate education at one of the country’s best universities, in charge of helping students get the most out of Duke. It’s sort of like being a Crossing Guard, isn’t it? Except that the “crossing” here is a college education not a city street.
I don’t know what you’ll do with your talents, and you probably don’t know either. That’s OK — I’m sure you’ll do great things. I salute you once again for the accomplishments that bring you here today, and I look forward to the future accomplishments you’re sure to enjoy and — most importantly — I look forward to learning about all the good things you’ll do with those accomplishments. Congratulations!