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Guide to the Stanford University Baccalaureate Services Audio-Visual
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SC1091
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2007 Jun 16
Physical Description:
1 optical disc(s) (DVD)
Scope and Content Note
Following is the prepared text of the student address by Nikki Pareño
Serapio, delivered at the Stanford Baccalaureate Celebration on June 16,
2007.
The key insight of Commencement is that there's a big world outside of
Stanford. For many of us, we will soon come to believe in the largeness of
existence through the demands of professional life. If you thought those
15-page papers were difficult, then prepare yourself for the 8 a.m. to 7
p.m. workday. If we really did think the quarter system was too stressful,
then parents, please shake your heads and give your sons and daughters a
wise hug: Tell them kindly that it's their turn to prepare tuition for their
future Stanford-bound children.
I want to talk for a few minutes about the largeness of existence. Arguably,
the best way to do this is to describe for you the cosmopolitan content of a
Stanford education. I can list for you the topics that I've learned about in
classes, and the list would be a good picture of the world. Chuang Tzu; the
brave anti-totalitarians in the Spanish Civil War; the brave philosophy of
John Rawls; Pablo Neruda's poetry; why wars make states and states make war;
why people continue to starve despite there being enough food in the world
to feed everyone—all of the students here can take an inventory of their
coursework, in order to report that, yes, Stanford has allowed us to more
fully realize the heft and potentialities of human knowledge.
Before Stanford, I went to Catholic school for 14 years, and for me the most
important lesson from that period is this: Good works trump all. It is not
enough to observe the largeness of the world, when there are things in it
that we must strive to change. It is not enough to know the content of books
in order to earn the comfort of salaries, when there are so many great
social problems that demand our attention.
Of course, this is a tried-and-true and righteous reminder, and perhaps the
bullhorn is about to run out of battery. Every Stanford Commencement is a
variation on a theme called "Do not forget the claims of social
justice."
But I appeal to you via repetition: Do not forget the claims of social
justice.
My spiritual journey at Stanford has been marked by the ongoing genocide in
Darfur, Sudan, and by my participation in advocacy to stop this genocide. If
you come from a religious background like me, then I am sure the most
monumental moral question has jumped into your conscience at one point or
another. Here's the question applied to a specific case: What power, what
creator, what kind of concerned agent would allow the destruction of an
entire people? Would allow more than 500,000 innocent civilians to die in
Western Sudan? Would allow countless Darfuri women to be raped and spat upon
by a government that continues to enjoy absolute impunity?
Now, this is not a forum for theological debate, and I don't have the
intellectual resources to answer a question about the persistence of evil. I
only mention the above so that we, the Class of 2007, might leave Stanford
with the certain knowledge that bad news can be the groundspring for
hope.
Faced with the largeness of injustice after injustice, Stanford students have
responded passionately and decisively. In order to speak up for the people
of Darfur, last year Stanford students organized a vigil across the entire
Golden Gate Bridge, where we got over 5,000 people to create a 1.7-mile-long
procession of conscience. Last year, Stanford students helped draft a Darfur
op-ed that was published for the over 2 million readers of the Sunday New
York Times and the International Herald Tribune. And today many of us
continue to fight for the men, women and children of Darfur, and we will
stay committed to this line of work for however long it's necessary.
My one hope for us, the Class of 2007, is that we realize our serious
responsibility to those who were shirked by the natural lottery. Some of us
have grandparents who speak about the seriousness of their generation, about
the moral battles that it waged, about a genocide that it finally stopped.
Make no mistake: We face the same and similar challenges today. When mass
atrocity occurs in Africa, or in Europe, or anywhere, our human dignity is
at stake; when injustice manifests itself closer to home, our human dignity
is at stake. And for every one of us, an essential question will come home
sooner or later: How did we use our Stanford education?
Let us promise today: We will do some good in this world. And we will strive
our utmost to be healers of this world.
2012 Jun 16
Physical Description:
1 optical disc(s) (DVD)
Biography/Organization History
Tara Gu, a senior from Portland, OR, graduated with a major in Public Policy
and a minor in Human Biology. During her time at Stanford, she has anchored
herself at the intersection of business, nonprofits, philanthropy, and
government and has pondered how these institutions can work together to
advance social change. Tara has been privileged to study at Bing Stanford in
Washington and the BOSP Cape Town program; explore issues in health,
housing, education, and financial regulation; dabble in social
entrepreneurship and improv; and serve as a Resident Assistant in the
largest undergraduate residence on campus.
Scope and Content Note
Following is the prepared text of the 2012 Baccalaureate student speech by
Tara Gu, senior graduating with a major in public policy and a minor in
human biology.
April 12, 2012, Stanford student Facebook status: "So I'm walking between the
library and Hoover Tower when Oprah flies by me on a golf cart with an
armada of fans pursuing her on bike as her bodyguard is yelling into his
wrist mic. #Stanfordlife."
In typical #Stanfordlife fashion, I've had the privilege to meet
extraordinary individuals on this campus over the past four years. But of
all the people I've met, the most important person I've met is me. I've
become closer to knowing who I am. By who I am, I mean what I care about; my
values, priorities, and beliefs; whether I can even articulate those values;
and how well I can live up to those beliefs.
Our society increasingly obsesses over metrics, or the idea of measuring
quantifiable results of our actions. We measure percent gain in shareholding
value, increase in student performance on standardized testing, and net
revenue per physician. But in trumpeting results, we have sometimes forsaken
the process. Business ethics have deteriorated. Some teachers have taught to
the test. Patient-physician relationships have strained. In emphasizing
metrics, we equate achievement with scoring higher on the measurable things
that we have identified, and we further reinforce these specified metrics.
This is problematic for two reasons: 1) We define results only as measurable
things and neglect the immeasurable; 2) How do we know that we are measuring
the right thing?
For most of us, throughout our lives, our metric of achievement has been
grounded in what we do. What we do arguably granted us admission to
Stanford, and it has been the focus of attention since we were little. At
age 5, it was, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" And at age 22, it
is, "What are you going to do next year?" Having an answer to these
questions elicits "oohs" and "ahhs," as if having a plan for achievement is
half the achievement. We are asked about the result that we want, but we are
rarely asked to reflect upon the process. By process, I mean the question of
who we want to be. Who do you want to be when you grow up? Who do you want
to be next year? These are far more difficult questions to answer, and yet
most of us spend less time thinking about them.
In April of this year, Newark's mayor and our Commencement speaker, Cory
Booker, ran into a burning house and carried a neighbor through smoky
stairwells and falling flames. Why were we so impressed with Mayor Booker's
actions that we tweeted #Stanfordcommencementspeaker #likeaboss? Were we
drawn to the result of his Dark Knight heroics, his achievement of saving
someone's life? Or did we admire what his actions said about who he is, his
ability to live up to his values of public service?
Graduation marks a result. That coveted 8-by-11-inch piece of paper will
grant us another neat line of size 10 font to add to our resumes. But those
pretty calligraphy letters do not reveal the process. They do not say
anything about the philosophical late night hallway conversations, the
chicken tenders from Axe and Palm, or the saddening loss of two members from
our community this year.
Results are measurable but not memorable. What is memorable is not
measurable. What is measurable is not memorable.
Congratulations, oh-twelve.
Scope and Content Note
The 2012 speaker was Sister Joan Chittister; student speaker was Tara Gu.
Biography/Organization History
Sister Joan Chittister, an international lecturer and author of more than 45
books, has been given 10 Catholic Press Association awards for her writing.
One of her recent books, Uncommon Gratitude: Alleluia for All That Is,
wasco-authored with the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams. Her
current book is Following the Path: The Search for a Life of Passion,
Purpose, and Joy. She writes a regular column for the National Catholic
Reporter newspaper and for Huffingtonpost.com.