Friday night we had a sort of "last dance." First hour was seniors only and it kind of opened up to all the students. And at one point, as often happens at Harris, I was half-dancing and half-talking with someone, and we started thinking that college is like a picnic, and there are a lot of lamps out because it is at night. And all the lamps are all the different activities you are doing; you have got the volleyball lamp and the academic lamp and more. We are all the kinds of insects of the night flitting around these lamps, and I am sort of peripherally aware of a moth over there at that lamp, but I am not at that lamp. But you see them and you know that they are there. And that is the sort of relationship we had, which is sort of seeing each other in passing. We knew who we were and all of a sudden we were having this conversation that lasted in part for three hours, and at the end of that, at one point, I sort of I turned to her and asked, 'Where have you been these four years, and why are we only now hav ing this conversation?" And that was kind of a cool moment for me, and I think that that's a moment I have been experiencing quite a lot, especially in these last few weeks of Grinnell: these small interactions with people that makes you realize how much you are going to miss them. It's almost a kind of regret that you all of a sudden realize that this person has this amazing depth of knowledge about some obscure topic or some amazing talent you've never seen before.

Okay, so back to the beginning. So you get here four years ago, and you're just out of high school and you've just graduated, and you're thinking "college," and, "I am going to do college and then, in four years, I am going to graduate." And it kind of tricks you into thinking that--math analogy--that life is sort of a step function, which means that you…hold on, I'll explain. Which means that you're at this level, and then you reach a point, and then all of a sudden you jump up, right? So, it's like a staircase. Elementary school, middle school, and then high school, and then college, and then adulthood. And I think that life is more like a continuous curve. Hold on, we're almost through. Which is to say that you're just moving like this, and that means that every moment, no matter how small a step forward you take, you're growing or ascending in some way. And there are big things, and you think that there are going to be these big moments: like I wrote my final paper for my senior thesis and I got B+, A-, o r an A and that would be the crowning achievement, and that would be the moment that would define you.

And what I found is, though I have written many papers and written many exams, I look back and I think about the first time I saw someone that I didn't know, and I kind of awkwardly shuffled over to them and was like, "Hey, I really liked you in your play." And then instead of being like, "Who are you? And please go away," they were like, "Oh, thanks, come sit down on the couch and discourse with me." And those are sort of the little moments that add up. Those are sort of those little steps and those little ascensions.

And I have this tendency to sometimes interact with seniors and think that they were probably just the same way now that they were four years ago, and that it is only me who has changed. You know, they were always this cool person and just sort of moved through college the way they have always been. But I think that it is sort of this growing process that we have gone through.

And that's actually what's turned me around on graduation a little bit, because about a week ago I was thinking that this was going to be a really, incredibly, sad moment for me and that I would spend this entire week being on the verge of tears and just enormously upset. And it is sad that so many people that I treasure are leaving, the students--I'll be around next semester, so not faculty yet. But there are a lot of people who I'm going to encounter again, and I don't mean my close friends because I'll see them again because I'll make sure of that. But I mean, that guy with the funny shirt who always brings his tray into the drink line, and he always wants water when you want water, but he gets ice first and then he gets water and then he drinks some and gets more water. And you're thinking "Uh, how do I always end up behind this guy in the drink line?" Okay, I'm going to miss that guy. I really am. I have been having these moments the whole last two weeks of this semester. Just, "Oh, girl with funny hat. " You know, "Skateboarding boy who goes past my room when I am trying to sleep. I am going to miss you"

Even though I am going to miss these people, the fact is that, when you have something that you treasure, it's most fun to show it to other people. It's sort of, "Look what I have." There is a sense of ownership of this class, which is, you know, maybe not ok, but I'm like, "It's my class and we've all been collected here." You know, sort of physically. It's in an artificial containment that we all come here, to the college, and we're not super isolated, but we're a little isolated, and we're just all bumping into each other and colliding. It's like someone is just going to open the door and we're all going to fly out. Again, like insects of the night. Just out there.

And its very exciting when people tell me, you know, "Oh yeah, I'm going to going to do a teaching program in China," or "I'm going to go to graduate school in Ecuador." Everyone I know is basically leaving the country. So they're off and I'm like, "I'll be here next semester, but someone's got to keep the home fires burning." But there is now this sort of sense of like "Man, China is not ready for you!" or like, "I can't wait to see what you do in Ecuador." And it's all just very hopeful that you guys are going to go out and sort of rock the world, and that is a really great feeling. So I hope that, as we are sort of walking across that stage at commencement, and just all those small rituals of packing up our lives here, like packing up the last box, which is always depressing. You know, putting or mailing that last thing home, that last hug before you get into the car to drive to the airport.

I hope that even in all those little moments of closure, which will become sad, I hope that we're all happy in a way. And that we can all recognize how great it's going to be because Grinnellians, you guys, are really great people. You're great people to be around and you are going to go out into the world and still be great. And I think that is a good thing. And I can't wait to hear how the world receives you. And I am sure it will be wonderful.