Ashford J. Bradly
Reflection in the Glass
Good morning.
When I found out that I’d be speaking here today, the first thought that came to my mind was &38220;how can I tell my classmates something that they don’t already know?”
I haven’t got life figured out any better than anyone else.
In fact, the very people that I’ve been learning from — family, professors and classmates — are the ones sitting in the audience.
But I realized that instead of trying to convey the great wisdom that I’ve acquired in 21 years, I could share an ideal that was imparted to me, an ideal that I am trying to live up to.
When I was finishing high school, a coach read a poem to my soccer team that has stuck with me for the last four years.
I don’t know that I’ve completely lived up to it, but it’s what I’ve been striving to accomplish.
The poem is called “The Man in the Mirror,” but I promise you that it has nothing to do with Michael Jackson.
The poem was actually found etched onto a prison wall, written by an anonymous inmate.
But before I begin, just like Alex was afraid of Foster Cronin, there are some friends that I know will beat up on me if I don’t make it clear that even though the poem says “man” over and over, it’s meant to apply to everyone.
When you get what you want in your struggle for self,
And the world makes you king for a day,
Then go to the mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that man has to say.For it isn’t your father, or mother or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass,
The person whose verdict counts most in your life,
Is the one staring back from the glass.He’s the fellow to please, never mind all the rest,
For he’s with you clear to the end.
And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test,
If the man in the glass is your friend.You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years,
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But the final reward will be heartache and tears,
If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.
What I’ve taken from this poem is that, even though the opinions and expectations of other people are important, it’s even more important to have a clear sense of your own values and priorities, and to act on them.
As we set out from the Purple Valley, out into the world, we have far greater opportunity, and far greater need, to follow through on the expectations that we set for ourselves.
Arriving at Williams, many of us were faced with more choices and more chances to determine our own paths than we had ever experienced before.
There were a plethora of activities and organizations that we could join, from steel drum band to the sushi club.
Course selection meant more than just deciding between home ec. and keyboarding — we were offered more than 600 classes.
We could make our own decisions about other things too — we could wander home at 3 a.m. without fear that we would find that the lights were on and our parents were waiting.
Yet despite our greater independence, we were still all traveling along a clearly defined path.
We all knew we’d be taking 3 courses in each division, 9-12 in our major, and don’t forget the peoples and cultures requirement.
Many in our class came playing a sport or an instrument, and there was an expectation that we’d stick with it through all four years.
And though we could choose where we lived, our choice was limited to a half-mile radius.
Though we’ve all been following a similar, defined course until today, from here our paths will be exploding outwards in countless different directions.
Members of our class will be researching shore birds off the coast of Antarctica, stargazing in the Netherlands, tending a bar in Beijing, and teaching math in rural Mississippi, along with 505 other, diverse endeavours.
As we set out from here, we’ll have to choose what our priorities will be.
Is the environment your priority?
Next year, are you going to drive to work, or will you be taking the T or riding a bike?
Next winter, when you have your own thermostat, will you turn it down a few degrees?
And how will you give your time?
Williams made it easy to get involved.
But will you still work at the soup kitchen when you no longer have a Lehman Council shuttle to take you there and whisk you back for your 1 o’clock class?
Will you still be at the AIDS rally, or get out to vote, when you no longer have the national champion shotputter telling you that you will ... or else?
I can’t tell you what your answers to these questions should be. Nobody can.
For it isn’t your father or mother or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass,
The person whose verdict counts most in your life,
Is the one staring back from the glass.
I don’t mean to say that you should ignore the advice of your peers and mentors.
The family, professors, and classmates with us today are the people who have been providing support and guidance throughout our time at school.
The perspectives of the people we value are extremely important.
Yet it is essential to keep in mind what our own values are.
As we set our course, we should not choose a path merely because our mentor thinks that it is the logical next step in our careers, because our friends would give us a hard time if we don’t, or because it would make our parents proud.
We should set a course because it meets our expectations for ourselves, because we think it is the right thing to do.
My fellow classmates, I wish you the best of luck in all of your future endeavours.
And I hope that you will always live up to your values and the expectations that you set for yourselves.
June 8, 2003