- President Wright, members of the Board of Trustees,
distinguished faculty, eminent honorees,
members of the Dartmouth Class of 2003.
(audience cheers)
Worthy parents, worthy, justly, proud parents,
friends of Dartmouth, visitors from abroad,
fellow citizens,
I am extremely grateful, particularly grateful
to receive this highest of honors conferred
by this venerable beloved college
and to be asked to speak on this justly celebrate day
of days.
I first came to Dartmouth for Winter Carnival
about 50 years ago, and I've been coming back ever since.
(audience cheers)
I've been a guest lecturer,
I've done research for my books in the Baker Library.
I've had the distinct privilege of teaching here
as a Montgomery fellow.
I've walked the walks, I've feasted on breakfasts
of memorable amplitude at Lu's,
and I've loved it all.
And I wish to thank particularly former Presidents
David McLaughlin, and James Friedman,
as well as President Wright
for their friendship and hospitality
over the years,
and to thank especially the Dartmouth faculty
and library staff for the work they do,
and for the gracious way you welcome
and accommodate such guests as I've been.
(audience applauds)
So here we are, Sunday, June 8th, 2003.
Here we are,
as Thornton Wilder might have set the scene
in Hanover, New Hampshire,
latitude, 43 degrees, 42 minutes, longitude
72 degrees, 17 minutes.
Here we are on this now glorious most beautiful spring
morning on the green at Dartmouth, in one of the most
lovely, historic places, anywhere
in America, right here in good old New England.
(audience cheers)
In overall size,
by American standards, New England isn't much.
The whole six New England states amount
to less than Nebraska.
In fact, there are 17 states larger than all of New England.
The biggest American cities, the great concentrations
of commerce, of political, industrial,
and media power are all elsewhere.
But it was here, here in New England
that the American Revolution ignited and changed the world,
here that the abolition movement took hold,
and that a Smith College professor named
Catherine Lee Bates wrote "America the Beautiful".
New England gave us the first book published
on this side of the Atlantic, the first school in America,
the first college, and the first written Constitution
in history to declare that it shall be the duty
of the government to provide education for everybody,
a radical idea at the time.
The Constitution of the Commonwealth
of Massachusetts was drafted
by John Adams in 1778.
Just two years after the Declaration of Independence
and a full decade before our national Constitution.
It shall be the duty
of legislators and magistrates in all future periods
of this Commonwealth to cherish the interests of literature
and the sciences, to countenance and inculcate
the principles of humanity and all social affections
and generous sentiments among the people.
"This being necessary," wrote John Adams
"For the preservation of their rights and liberties,
a system whereby the people govern themselves
will not work," he was saying,
"Unless the people are educated."
Here in New Hampshire,
the people so admired what Adams had written
that they adopted the same clause almost
without change for their Constitution.
Nowhere in America have institutions
of education, schools, academies, colleges,
universities flourished for so long or in such numbers,
or with higher standards than in New England,
and to the immeasurable benefit of the nation.
It's with this in mind, in this setting,
that I would like to address the subject
of teachers and teaching.
In studying the life
of an historic figure such as John Adams,
who began as a teacher and who was a parent
and author never stopped teaching,
one is reminded
in striking fashion of a fundamental lesson of history
and of life, that no one is or ever was self-made.
We are all what we are in large degree
because of others who have helped coached,
taught, counseled, who set a standard by example,
who've taken an interest in our interests,
opened doors, opened minds,
helped us to see,
who gave encouragement when we needed it,
who reprimanded or prodded when we needed it,
and at critical moments inspired.
Very often, they were our parents.
Very often, our teachers,
if your experience was anything like mine,
some of your first heroes outside
the family were your teachers.
John Adams is a striking example
of the transforming miracle of education.
His father was a farmer.
His mother almost certainly was illiterate.
Because of a scholarship to Harvard College,
he discovered books and all his life,
he would speak of his indebtedness
to his favorite professor, John Winthrop.
Others of those we call
the founders expressed very similar gratitude.
Thomas Jefferson wrote that Dr. William Small
at the College of William
and Mary fixed the destinies of my life.
Each of us can remember teachers who made a difference
in our own lives.
Imagine how much larger this gathering
this morning might be
if all those teachers on your minds in your minds were here
with us, and imagine how we would want to greet them.
One of my favorite teachers in high school
in Pittsburgh was Carl Cochran, who later had a long career
on the faculty of Colby Sawyer College over in New London.
Carl taught English and art.
He could also build anything with his hands.
He was a champion gardener.
He had humor and kindness,
and a way of summoning the best that was in those he taught.
There are no more important members of our society,
none more important to our whole way
of life than our teachers.
Yet too often and for too long, they've been treated
like glorified babysitters who are supposed to look
after our children while we go off
and do the important work, in truth,
of course, it is they who are doing the work that matters
above all.
(audience applauds)
We don't just want a good education for our children.
We want an education second to none, but we've been letting
down badly in how we teach those who teach.
In the field of history,
the consequences have been serious, often alarming.
It is no exaggeration to say that we are raising
a young generation of Americans who are by
and large historically illiterate.
When seniors at 55 leading colleges and universities
were asked two years ago in a survey
who was the American general
at Yorktown, more of them answered Ulysses S. Grant
than George Washington, while 6% decided it must have
been Douglas MacArthur.
And this, I stress, is only one example.
Of course, there are many exceptional teachers,
gifted, dedicated teachers doing exceptional work everywhere
in the country, but far too many teachers everywhere
have been trained in schools of education
with no concentration on any one subject.
It isn't just that they don't know much about history,
they don't know much about math or botany,
or English literature either.
And what you don't know as a beginning teacher,
you can't very well explain or have your heart in.
One of the most gifted and influential teachers
of the past 50 years was Margaret McFarland,
teacher professor of child psychology at the University
of Pittsburgh, whose numerous proteges included the man
who reached more children than any teacher ever,
the late Fred Rogers, Mr. Rogers,
who was the commencement speaker here last year.
(audience applauds)
As Fred Rogers once explained to me, indeed as he
was happy to tell many people, all that he did
with his television programs was based on the teaching
of Margaret McFarland, whose message in essence
was this, in teaching, attitude matters above all.
Attitudes aren't taught, they're caught, she would say.
If the teacher is enthusiastic
about the history of the American Revolution or Shakespeare,
or the workings of the internal combustion engine,
the students get that right away.
If the teacher is uncertain, indifferent, or maybe
a bit bored with the material, the teach, the students
get that too right away.
Show them what you love, said Margaret McFarland,
you can't love what you don't know much about.
You can't convince, stimulate,
you can't hold the attention, you can't teach
if you don't know what you're talking about.
Teaching is not a formula.
Teaching is an art.
Teaching wrote Gilbert Hyatt in one of the best books
on the subject, is not like a chemical reaction,
it is more like painting a picture or making a piece
of music, you must throw your heart into it.
This college has a long tradition of emphasis on teaching.
An old description of Dartmouth states very clearly
the bedrock premise that the faculty must be teachers
as well as scholars and that the college
offers a liberal arts education rather than vocational
and professional training.
The best possible education for teachers,
our teachers, is exactly that,
a fullfledged liberal arts education.
In which, in my view, history ought to be required.
(audience applauds)
If you stop to think how many children,
a well educated teacher can affect
in a career in the classroom,
you might be inclined to believe as I do
that a full liberal arts education
for our teachers is the best kind
of homeland security in the long run.
(audience applauds)
We must revise the way we are teaching our teachers
and the sooner, the better.
We must insist on drastic changes
and improvements in the textbooks
we subject our children to.
So many textbooks are so extremely dreary.
It is almost as though some were designed intentionally
to kill any desire for learning.
And we must not leave the job entirely up to the teachers.
We must set the example at home.
We must talk about books with our children.
We must show them that we too, in our time,
cherish literature and the sciences.
We must take them on trips to museums
and galleries, and libraries and great historic places,
and show them the meaning and enjoyment we ourselves
find in such places.
Were it up to me to decide where the focus
of our efforts ought to be in the schools,
at what particular stage in the process,
I would concentrate on grade school,
and especially the fourth, fifth, and sixth grade levels,
when those young minds are like sponges.
We all know
that children of that age can learn foreign languages
far faster than we can, faster by far than in later life,
but they can learn anything faster.
And furthermore, they want to learn.
So let us teach them, inspire them,
give them imaginative, generous spirited,
warm-hearted educated teachers, and the rest will follow.
(audience applauds)
And now to you of the Class of 2003,
the great Dartmouth Class of 2003,
(audience applauds)
in the time honored tradition of commencements,
I offer a few words of advice to take as you will.
Whatever you do in life, don't do it lukewarmly.
Be the kind who forges ahead,
and don't ever quit because you're behind.
Don't use a fancy long word
when a short plain one does the job.
Remember there are truly exceptional people in life,
and learn to recognize them and to respect them,
read, read every chance you get,
read to keep growing,
read history, read poetry, read for pure enjoyment.
Read a book called "Life on a Little Known Planet".
It's about insects, it'll make you feel better.
Don't be in too big a hurry.
You can miss a lot of the best things in life that way.
Write some real letters.
Teach a child to sing.
Go exploring in your own town.
Go west by train.
Someday, tell your own children
about the teachers who meant a lot to you.
Never, never, never check out
of the hotel or motel without tipping the maid.
Work hard, work hard,
and don't work just for the big payoff.
Choose a life
in which the work itself is the payoff.
We live in serious, dangerous times, but please remember,
we've been through serious, dangerous times often before,
and we've emerged a stronger people for it.
"Great necessities call out great virtues,"
said Abigail Adams,
and she was speaking from experience.
Sometime, sometime,
somewhere along the line, do something for your country,
and sometime, gather up some brushes and paints
and go out somewhere in the open air and paint a picture.
I mean it, give it a try,
even if you never have, especially if you never have.
It was said of the American painter Robert Henri,
who was also a brilliant teacher, that he painted
like a man coming over the top of the hill singing.
Go that way.
Congratulations to you all, happy days.
(audience applauds)