Thank you, Dr. DeVivo.
Thank you distinguished guests, faculty, administrators, families – and most of all, students.
It’s truly an honor and a privilege to be addressing the Vaughn College Class of 2016.
I know the road to get here wasn’t always easy. Many of you are part of the first generation in your family to reach this milestone. That’s my story, as well.
I grew up in Riverside, California. Both my parents were born in America, but neither of them spoke English until they went to school. My dad didn’t finish high school.
But my parents were big believers in the power of education, and they instilled that belief into their kids. They taught us that learning equals opportunity. So there was never a question in their minds about whether we kids would go to college. We would, and we did.
What I remember most clearly from my graduation day was the look on my parents’ faces. They were so proud to call me a college graduate. And they were thrilled about what this accomplishment meant for future generations of our family.
Looking around this room, I see that same look on so many faces. I know getting here required hard work and sacrifice from both our graduates and their families. Congratulations to you all.
Today is the culmination of your time here at Vaughn. You’ve gotten a top-notch technical education. And you’re entering the aviation industry at a unique moment in its history.
Aviation is safer than it’s ever been. We’ve practically eliminated all the common historical causes of accidents. Our work is a model for aviation authorities around the world.
At the same time, technology is changing our industry at warp speed, and with no signs of slowing down. In fact, aviation has changed considerably just in the time you’ve been in school.
Back in 2012, unmanned aircraft were – if you pardon the expression – barely a blip on the radar. This year, my former chief-of-staff got her little boy a drone Santa for Christmas. And I even saw a company at the Consumer Electronics Show claim it wants to build an autonomous flying taxi.
With all these advancements, building on our safety record gets more challenging all the time. How do we ensure our airspace works for everybody who wants to use it? How do we maintain safety without stifling innovation?
We grapple with the answers to those questions every day at the FAA. We’re working in an industry that’s used to operating in black and white. But more and more of the scenarios we’re dealing with are in shades of gray.
“Risk” is a bit of a dirty word in aviation. We don’t like it. We try to root it out in any way we can. But I’m going to let you in on a little secret.
Our industry needs more risk-takers.
We need people to challenge the conventional wisdom. To think outside the box. To ask questions we’re not considering. To operate in those gray areas.
Risk-takers are responsible for some of the greatest feats in aviation history. The Wright Brothers defied the accepted science of their day when they designed and built the first airplane and proved it was possible to actually take off and land in one piece.
Charles Lindbergh pushed the boundaries of what we thought aircraft were capable of when he completed his non-stop flight across the Atlantic in a single-engine airplane.
Amelia Earhart did it again when she became the first person to fly solo across the Pacific from Honolulu to Oakland.
And risk-takers today continue to hit new milestones. Elon Musk’s SpaceX recently launched a rocket and landed the booster in the ocean on a barge the size of a football field. Then they did it again. That feat alone could reduce the cost of a rocket launch by 70 percent.
All of these advancements were made possible because someone was willing to ask a simple question: What if?
I bet each of you has a few “What ifs” in your mind right now. And with a degree from Vaughn in your back pocket, you’re ready to start answering some of those questions.
That’s exciting, not only for me as head of the FAA, but for the entire aviation industry. You’re our next generation, who will help define what flight can be and where it can take us in the 21st century. We need your ideas and talent. We need you to be our risk-takers.
Now sometimes taking risks is scary, especially when you’re just starting out. I’m sure you’re already feeling the pressure to immediately get on the right path.
For some of you, maybe it seems like there are a hundred doors to choose from – and all of those options can feel paralyzing.
For others, it might seem like the specialized education you received has already wed you to one industry – and maybe you’re getting cold feet.
No matter where you are on this, rest assured: it’s normal. You’re not supposed to have everything figured out right now.
Your future is going to be filled with unexpected opportunities – and unanticipated setbacks. If you can accept that now, you’ll find a lot a freedom.
Let me tell you a quick story about one woman and her life’s unpredictable turns.
From the time Jerrie Cobb climbed into the cockpit of her dad’s 1936 Waco [WOCK-oh] biplane, she knew she wanted to follow him into the air.
She got her commercial license the day she turned 18. But there weren’t a lot of opportunities out there for a female pilot. It was 1949, and too many boys home from the war needed jobs.
Jerrie didn’t let that stop her. She took the gigs no one else wanted and spent time honing her skills.
After setting records for speed, distance, and altitude and becoming the first woman to fly at the Paris Air Show, the opportunity to fly higher than Jerrie ever dreamed of came along. She was chosen to become part of the Mercury 13, the first group of women to undergo astronaut testing.
But when the time came for NASA to select its crews, they decided that all potential astronauts needed military test pilot experience. And since women weren’t allowed to fly in the military at the time, Jerrie and the rest of the Mercury 13 were grounded.
Now, that would be devastating news for anybody. But Jerrie was resilient.
She found comfort in her lifelong passion for flight and began performing missionary work in South America. For the next 35 years, she transported supplies to tribes in the Amazon jungle and mapped new air routes to remote areas.
The world took notice of her humanitarian efforts: she was nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize in 1981.
I’m not telling you this story because I think you have to go out there and win a Nobel Prize – though I’m sure Dr. DeVivo and everyone here at Vaughn wouldn’t mind at all if you did.
I’m telling you this because sometimes, you’re going to miss out on your dream job. Or you’re going to make a wrong turn. And you may have to start over. That’s okay.
You’re going to have setbacks. It’s how you deal with them that will define the height of your success.
It’s easy to get hung up on getting the right job title, or being associated with the most prestigious project.
But when you look back on your career, you’re much more likely to remember how your work affected other people.
Your job is only one part of who you are. Make time for your family. Be there for the important moments. Never get so caught up in what you’re doing that you forget why you’re doing it.
Our aviation system is vast and complex and has a million moving pieces to it.
But all of it – every bit – can be traced back to December 17, 1903, on a sandy stretch of beach near Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.
On that day, Orville and Wilbur Wright laid the first brick of what would become the foundation for our industry.
And people like Charles Lindbergh, and Jerrie Cobb, and Elon Musk have been building on it ever since.
For the last four years, you’ve studied all the greats who came before you. You’ve learned from your own mentors here at Vaughn.
And now it’s time to make your own contributions to the great legacy of American aviation.
But you won’t just be defined by those contributions. One day, it’ll be your turn to give back and help cultivate a new crop of risk-takers.
Some bright kid is going to call you up for advice. And you might be too busy. You might wonder what you could possibly offer that would be useful.
Take the call anyway. That conversation could change someone’s life.
That is how you build your aviation legacy. By taking risks, by pursuing work that matters, by helping the next generation do more than even you could have dreamed.
Congratulations, Class of 2016. I can’t wait to see what you do next.