From Classics to Commencement: Farewell Class of 2017
Dean of Students Ashley Dotson delivered the below speech at the Senior Luncheon on March 12, 2017 at The University Club.
Good afternoon, seniors, sophomores, families, and faculty. It’s an honor to be here celebrating the class of 2017. I’d like to thank the seniors for inviting me to deliver the faculty address today, despite their awareness of my intense fear of public speaking. However, I suppose their choice was a natural one, given that I spent two years as their English teacher, and in my humble opinion, nothing brings people together like a rousing literary discussion.
All joking aside, I do believe in the power of literature to unite, and I think the many conversations we’ve had in English class over the past few years have made this group of students very special to me. Seniors, this luncheon marks the first of a flurry of traditions and celebrations in your honor. You are preparing to leave the place you have always called home and to begin making important decisions that will shape your adult lives. As such, it seems fitting to share with you some of the decisions that led me to Ellis, your English classroom, and this podium.
I became an English teacher because, more than anything else, I loved talking about books, even more than I loved reading them. I read quickly and eagerly, but I talked about books for days and months after I read them--to anyone who would listen (and sometimes to anyone who wouldn’t, but who had the misfortune of being stuck in a room with me). To me, teaching English meant that I would get to talk about literature every day, which seemed almost too good to be true.
And at times, it was. In fact, it was something of a shock to me when I shared one of my favorite poems with my very first English class, and they didn’t fall out of their seats and thank me for changing their lives. Eventually, though, my path led me to room 118 and to the Ellis class of 2017, and suddenly, it was exactly as good as I had imagined it would be. Together, we immersed ourselves in the worlds of Bronte, Fitzgerald, Chopin, and Morrison. In Wuthering Heights, when Heathcliff arrived on the doorstep of Thrushcross Grange, cold, scared, and alone, we felt what it meant to be an outsider, to be “the other.” When Nick stood on the shore at the end of The Great Gatsby, contemplating the vastness of human dreams, we considered our own significance and wondered what our green light was.
I became an English teacher because, more than anything else, I loved talking about books, even more than I loved reading them. I read quickly and eagerly, but I talked about books for days and months after I read them--to anyone who would listen (and sometimes to anyone who wouldn’t, but who had the misfortune of being stuck in a room with me). To me, teaching English meant that I would get to talk about literature every day, which seemed almost too good to be true.
And at times, it was. In fact, it was something of a shock to me when I shared one of my favorite poems with my very first English class, and they didn’t fall out of their seats and thank me for changing their lives. Eventually, though, my path led me to room 118 and to the Ellis class of 2017, and suddenly, it was exactly as good as I had imagined it would be. Together, we immersed ourselves in the worlds of Bronte, Fitzgerald, Chopin, and Morrison. In Wuthering Heights, when Heathcliff arrived on the doorstep of Thrushcross Grange, cold, scared, and alone, we felt what it meant to be an outsider, to be “the other.” When Nick stood on the shore at the end of The Great Gatsby, contemplating the vastness of human dreams, we considered our own significance and wondered what our green light was.
In The Awakening, when Edna Pontellier began to realize her position in the universe as more than simply a wife and a mother, we questioned the limits that might be imposed on us and wondered how we might resist them. And in The Bluest Eye, when Claudia looked at a broken Pecola and was confronted with the cruel reality of racism, we felt sorrow and rage at the destruction of a child. These stories bond us. They force us to consider perspectives outside of our own, to recognize that people suffer in ways we might never guess by simply looking at them, or even by having a conversation or a relationship with them. Yet, they also, I hope, have made us kinder and more sensitive to the human condition. Now, more than ever, this is what we need.
Soon you will be in a much larger world than the one in which you now exist. When you get there, be understanding and inclusive. Be unafraid to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. When you meet new people in unfamiliar places, remember that someone may be a Heathcliff in need of a Cathy or a Gatsby in need of a Nick.
Class of 2017, I have watched you grow in ways that continue to impress me every day. I am speaking to all of you and each of you when I say: you are smart. You are kind. You are exceptional. Because of that, I know that you are ready for the challenges that await you. You have navigated the last four years with open hearts and open minds, and I have full confidence that you will continue to welcome new knowledge and experiences in the same way.
At the beginning of this address, I (somewhat sarcastically) thanked you for inviting me to speak today. Now, I want to very sincerely thank you for what you have given me: a daily reminder of why I do what I do; of how lucky I am to share something I love with people who are eager to embrace it; and of how hopeful it makes me to know that you are part of the generation with the power to change the world for the better. It has been my honor to teach you.
Finally, because you know me so well, it will surely come as no surprise that I want to end with one of my favorite endings. We spent a lot of time talking about that green light in The Great Gatsby, and while I certainly don’t expect you all to know what your green light is just yet, I do want you to remember Nick’s message at the end of the novel:
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter -- tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning ---
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
Thank you.
Class of 2017, I have watched you grow in ways that continue to impress me every day. I am speaking to all of you and each of you when I say: you are smart. You are kind. You are exceptional. Because of that, I know that you are ready for the challenges that await you. You have navigated the last four years with open hearts and open minds, and I have full confidence that you will continue to welcome new knowledge and experiences in the same way.
At the beginning of this address, I (somewhat sarcastically) thanked you for inviting me to speak today. Now, I want to very sincerely thank you for what you have given me: a daily reminder of why I do what I do; of how lucky I am to share something I love with people who are eager to embrace it; and of how hopeful it makes me to know that you are part of the generation with the power to change the world for the better. It has been my honor to teach you.
Finally, because you know me so well, it will surely come as no surprise that I want to end with one of my favorite endings. We spent a lot of time talking about that green light in The Great Gatsby, and while I certainly don’t expect you all to know what your green light is just yet, I do want you to remember Nick’s message at the end of the novel:
“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter -- tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning ---
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
Thank you.
Envision Her at Ellis
If you're interested in exploring Ellis for your daughter, let's connect! Request information about enrollment, attend one of our upcoming events, or hear about Ellis from those who know it best: our students.
