‘Shared Experience’

Commencement Address by State Sen. Christine M. Tartaglione
Excel Academy, Camelot at Woodhaven, Daniel Boone

June 11, 2008

Irvine Auditorium, University of Pennsylvania

I would guess that any speaker invited to be here with you today would tell you that it’s an honor and a privilege. 

Such an invitation is a milestone in American life.  It means that someone wants people to hear what you have to say. 

It is very humbling.

People who do this are usually rich or famous, or blessed with a gift for speechmaking. I don’t pretend to be any of those.

 But I doubt that you could have chosen anyone who would consider this more of an honor, or who would be more nervous.

I am more grateful to be here than anyone else could be because I believe there is a connection between us.

We are joined by shared experience, and I feel a bond with this graduating class that I don’t often feel with other crowds or even on the floor of the Pennsylvania Senate.

            So, today, I’m going to break commencement speech tradition.  I’m not here today to be a traffic cop and tell you where to go next. I don’t want to be a preacher and tell you how to behave. And I’m not a fortuneteller trying to predict your future.

I join you today – simply, humbly -- as a fellow traveler on the road.

I believe that we have traveled separate but very similar paths to reach this auditorium--to reach this moment. The roads we have traveled were not smooth and flat.  The roads we have traveled were not wide and bright.  There have been detours and roadblocks and potholes.

There were times on our journey that we felt alone.  There were times when we felt weak and confused.  There were times when we wanted to just rest, or turn back, or give up.

And, it seems like, always in the nick of time, we were blessed by the kindness of strangers, the support of friends, and the wisdom of tremendous teachers.  And we made it here.

We had to fight and climb and carry a heavy burden on our journey, but we made it. 

I have had the privilege of meeting many of you, and I consider you my friends.  I’ve been in your classrooms.  I have seen you in the halls of the state capitol.  We have worked together to help senior citizens. We live in the same neighborhoods. (And here’s something else we have in common:  When I saw Pedro Segarra here today, I smiled.)     

I haven’t met every one of you, but I believe that I am familiar with the struggle you faced. 

When I hear people say that you were students who fell behind, I shake my head and say:  What did you expect?  You started out behind.   

Whether it was family income, family structure, ethnic background or the neighborhoods in which you live, just getting started was a challenge.  Some kids get a head start.  Some have to climb out of a hole.

I have lived in this city all of my life and I’ve been involved with public policy for a long time and I know that the opportunity gap is not only wide, but it is growing. And if you find yourself on the far side of that gap, it can seem like an impossible leap.

A few years ago, you were called the “troubled” kids. In a school district that is under-funded, in a state that hasn’t done enough to help, in a country that is spending trillions of dollars chasing foreign tyrants while entire sections of its cities surrender to drug dealers and gangs.

Experts would tell you that your odds of bringing home a high school diploma were far longer than most American students.  Much of that was out of your control.  Sadly, it makes a difference where you are born. 

A few years ago, I was cruising on a boat, soaking in the warmth, feeling the spray of the sea and the sun on my face and the wind in my hair.

A few minutes later, I was staring at the lights on the ceiling of a hospital room, feeling nothing at all. 

Experts would tell me that my odds of climbing out of that bed and walking back to my desk on the Senate floor were about the same as your chances of graduating from high school. This graduating class might know how I felt.

Because my chances were slim and the effort was painful, I found it difficult to try. When you fell behind in school and the gap grew wider and the odds grew longer, the desire to give up and give in must have been strong. I have felt that temptation.

When I did muster the courage to try, I stumbled. And I failed. And I cried. You may have felt that frustration.

When you messed up, and felt like you let down your class, or let down your teachers, and your family you probably got frustrated.

And then, a day came.

On that day, I looked behind me and I discovered that I was making progress. One test. One exercise. One step.

One day, I said -- we said: I can do this.

And pretty soon…you and I were moving down the road. You, at Excel Academy, Daniel Boone and Camelot at Woodhaven. Me, downtown, at Magee Rehabilitation Hospital.

Yes, along our separate paths to this wonderful event today, we both found a treasure that we wanted to keep to ourselves and,  at the same time, share with the world. We found experts who, instead of giving us odds, gave us hope. We found professionals who challenged conventional thinking, who challenged themselves and who challenged us. Magee and Camelot are both in the business of returning to people their future.   

I can’t imagine a more beautiful thing to do. The greatest gift any of us will ever receive is opportunity.

That’s why the bond I feel with this graduating class today is not simply that we have faced similar challenges and setbacks. It is also that we no longer curse our bad luck, because we have also experienced some good fortune, and, of course, the things that we have learned.

You and I have learned fabulous things. We have read books we never thought we’d read. We have been awed by the power and promise of technology. We have learned about what is going on in the wide universe of science, and we have learned what is going on inside our hearts.

I did, one day, walk back to my desk in the Senate.  I haven’t come so far that I can do that every day.  I’m still on the road, just as your graduation day is not the end of your road, but simply a milepost on a lifelong journey. The hidden blessing we have all gotten along the road is this: We learned that we have a lot more fight inside of us than we thought.

I will keep fighting.   I hope you will too.

We have received the greatest gift and I believe that the greatest show of gratitude would be to simply use it, and pass it on.

I told you that I did not come here, like many commencement speakers, to tell you how to think, or where to go, or what to do next.

 Instead, I offer you an invitation.

I intend to spend the rest of my life tearing down the obstacles that stood in our way. I’m going to use the fight that I found inside me to fix our schools, rebuild our neighborhoods, and make the city that I was born in a safer, happier place for your children and their children.

I know that together we can create a community in which the intensity of your effort, not the geography of your birth or the color of your skin will determine the odds of your success.

We just witnessed the completion of the first presidential primary in our history in which the winner was an African American man. So we can see the path.

I’m going to take one step every day toward helping wonderful organizations like Camelot and Magee rebuild dreams and restore futures. 

We can’t change the past.  We can only shape the future.            Let’s do it together. 

 Let’s find those people who stand in the way of better schools, safer streets and equal opportunity. Let’s use the fight we found inside of us and take it to them.

 I know a lot of people with big hearts and very little education. I know people with a lot of education and very little heart.

And, today, I am surrounded by 164 people with diplomas that prove they have a lot of both. This city, this state, this country need you.

The teachers and directors and administrators here today could have done something else.

 They could have made more money, bought a Hummer, filled it with gas and driven out of here.

You can too. I hope you won’t 

You might find it hard to imagine how you can transform the world, but you will never forget how you transformed yourselves.

Whether you know it or not, you have already begun to change your community. You are an example. There are thousands more like you starting down the road. They will feel the temptation. They will feel the frustration. They will stumble.

They will need the kindness of strangers, the support of friends, and the wisdom of teachers. They need you.

This fight to create a community of opportunity and equality needs doctors, lawyers, teachers, police officers, social workers and, yes, maybe even a state Senator or two.

This fight needs people who decide not to buy a Hummer and drive out of town but will instead buy a home and build a neighborhood.

A few years ago, our journeys began in different places and in different circumstances. But we are bonded here today by our shared experiences. 

Take some time to celebrate.  You deserve it. Take a few minutes to look back with pride at the obstacles you pushed aside and the hills you have climbed.

And then, let’s get back on the road together.

 Good luck.   God bless you.

Whatever you decide, Godspeed on your journey.

Thank you.