The following is the prepared text of the address delivered by Rachel Chen ’24, senior class president, at Kenyon’s 196th Commencement on May 18, 2024.
I stand here today, extremely thankful to all other undergraduate institutions for the stingier financial aid packages, waitlists and rejections they had gifted the lifelong friends I’ve met at Kenyon College.
If I remember correctly, It was just yesterday that we made impressions on each other across plexiglass dividers. Then, as the unforgiving Ohio sun was beating down around noontime, I trekked to the KAC — sweat on my forehead and a prayer on my tongue — hoping that I would fail the first exam I ever took in college: the EverlyWell mail-in PCR test kit.
By dusk, the best library this campus has ever seen was built. President Decatur left for a Night at the Museum. The mods were converted into dormitories. A smart move, I must say. I always slept better than I studied in them. By dawn, our slumber was accompanied by the ambient hum of more construction. And this morning, a friendly stranger greeted me on Middle Path. I realized too late that it was Jack from an old seminar. The bottom half of his face made him quite unrecognizable.
For such little time spent on the Hill, the Class of 2024 has accomplished many impressive feats. My classmates have won national titles, Goldwaters and Fulbrights, amongst many accomplishments that go unnoticed. Let’s also take a moment to applaud the last kind: those who have eaten in Peirce Hall alone, which inexplicably remains an anxiety-inducing experience after four years; those who understand the parking regulations; 8 a.m. lecture goers–in particular, those with enough drive to even secure breakfast beforehand. They will become my future employers.
Oh, Kenyon College! A beautiful commune where we practiced independence, which I define as having no chain stores within walkable distance. But stable housing and three meals a day are guaranteed to all residents, whose sole responsibilities are the pursuit of intellectual growth on weekdays and the pursuit of happiness on the weekends. At the end of this chapter, I come to the revelation that we’ve been in a utopia for four years.
I must admit that my time perception has been a little impaired. All I know is that this morning, like yesterday, and the day before, I woke up with cautious optimism. It’s a brand new day. It is likely that I will brush my teeth and have a cup of coffee. It is also possible that the trajectory of my life path, human intimacy and societal infrastructures at large will be obstructed by a microscopic virus, just a few mighty nanometers in diameter.
We have frequently heard the phrase, “unprecedented time.” Truth be told, I am not sure what that means. When exactly have the times ever been not unprecedented? The Class of 2024 has paid little heed. Instead, we equip ourselves with a strong capacity to handle fear, change, beginnings, and ends.
I get to say this now — not as a formality, but because I truly am proud of every single one of us for sitting here today. Congratulations.