Thank you, Provost Peterson.
It is certainly an honor to be addressing the 11th graduating class for the School of Social Sciences, Humanities, and Arts.
I’m sure that some of you are wondering why the FAA Administrator is speaking to a largely Liberal Arts school. Frankly, I wondered that too.
Maybe it’s because I run an entire agency that owes its existence to a couple of bicycle mechanics from Ohio. Wilbur and Orville Wright weren’t trained as scientists. Their friends and neighbors thought they were dreamers. But they solved the biggest scientific challenge of their time. They believed—and they proved—it’s possible to use a machine with wings to defy gravity, if only for a while.
Regardless of the reason, I’m thrilled to be here to share this day with you.
Many of you are among the first generation of your family to reach this milestone, whether it’s your undergraduate degree or an advanced degree.
I know what this feels like because I was in your position once. I remember how it felt to achieve my goal, and also the look on my parents’ faces. They were deeply proud of my accomplishment and the potential it had for future generations of our family.
Congratulations to you and your families for the shared dedication – and the sacrifices – that brought you to this day.
Now that you are officially an adult, I have a secret to share with you: It was all just a test.
Everything leading to now – from the first time you sat cross-legged in a circle in kindergarten to your most recent final exam or thesis – gave you the opportunity to prove something to yourself and to the world.
You’re here because you have the character and fortitude to tackle a long-term project and overcome multiple obstacles.
And I can promise you that your first employer isn’t going to ask you in a job interview to distinguish between the Danish-Prussian Wars of 1848 and 1864. Nor are they going to ask you to list, in order, the names of Henry the Eighth’s six wives, or how some of them met their unfortunate end.
The important thing is the piece of paper, your diploma. It’s the magic ticket to get you through the front door. And what you do after that is entirely up to you.
I want to share with you a story about a wise old flight instructor who was met at the airport by the nervous mother of a 16-year-old just beginning to start flying lessons.
“Can a 16-year-old fly an airplane safely?” the mother asked.
The instructor considered this for a moment and then replied. “Ma’am, I’ve never met a 16-year-old who didn’t have the reflexes to fly an airplane as well as a veteran pilot,” he said. “The problem is getting them to plan farther than the nose of the airplane.”
“My job,” he said, “isn’t to teach your daughter how to fly. My job is to teach her how to think about flying—how to look past the next 30 seconds and make smart decisions.”
In many ways, Class of ‘16, that’s exactly what has happened during your education. You’ve learned to think more broadly, to look further down the road, and to consider consequences.
Many of you pursued your degrees with a clear goal in mind. Some of you may have known since your childhood exactly what you wanted to be when you grew up.
Until now, everything in your academic career has followed some sort of a plan. And now, everybody is asking you, “What’s next?”
Now, I’m fairly confident that some of you don’t know what’s next, and you’re probably freaking out a little bit right about now. My message to you is this: Don’t freak out.
Life has a way of sending you little surprises. When I started at UC-Riverside many years ago – back when Twitter was something the birds did when they were happy – I thought I wanted to be a diplomat.
But a dear friend and mentor helped direct me onto a path that led into a different – and for me, much more rewarding – area of public service.
I had no idea as a 22-year-old that I would someday become Managing Director for the 2002 Olympic Winter Games in Salt Lake City.
Or that I would run two port agencies.
Even at the ancient age of 45, becoming the head of the world’s largest aviation safety agency still wasn’t on my radar.
Some of my friends say that if you look at my resume, you might draw one of two conclusions: I’ve either fallen into some amazing opportunities, or I simply can’t hold down a job.
So what can you learn from this?
First of all, understand that your first job is just that – a first job. You will always have new opportunities.
Be open to the possibilities they present.
Don’t become so focused on what you think you must do – or what your parents or friends think you should do. If you do only that, you can become a prisoner of your own life.
Once in a while, an opportunity will come your way with the potential to change your life. My advice is to consider these moments carefully.
What might you learn? Who might you meet?
Don’t be afraid to make a mistake. And never, ever be the one to say, “I can’t,” or “I’m not qualified.”
When I started thinking about what I would say to you, I considered coming up with a list about life lessons we might learn from our dogs, such as loyalty, or loving unconditionally, or that you should “wag more and bark less.”
But you don’t need to click on a list of 10 secrets to a happy life. You’re going to make your own list.
You’re going to discover that it’s much more comfortable to live in a world where everything is clear-cut, black-and-white. Where something is either by the rules or against them.
You’re also going to discover something else: That world doesn’t exist. Much of your life will be lived within the gray, where decisions are hard and sometimes the stakes are very high. Embrace that.
Learn to take comfort in the fact that you’ll never have it all figured out.
I think of my own case. Yes, I’ve had all of these tremendous opportunities. But in 18 months my term as FAA Administrator will end. And then I’ll be right there where you are today – looking for life’s next opportunity.
My advice is to be open to examining things from all angles. Your official university education might be coming to a close today, but you should prepare to be a lifelong student – of life and of all that it brings.
I mentioned a few moments ago that many of you are about to become the first generation of college graduates in your family, and how your path may someday lead to even greater things for your children and grandchildren.
I want you to also consider that the administrators and professors here at UC-Merced have great hopes for you as well.
You comprise this university’s 11th graduating class. And the things you do in your career will reflect on this institution for years to come.
Who knows what you might become? Someday, your example might prompt a high school senior to choose this institution, and to set out on a path that you inspired.
Speaking of inspiration, I want you to take a moment to think about the people in your life who played a role in your journey to this place. Some of them sacrificed for you. And they put your needs above theirs.
These people might be your parents, your grandparents, or your siblings – you know who they are. They took the time to encourage you and to set you up for success.
Remember these people who helped you along the way, who answered your calls.
Someday, a bright young kid will seek your advice. You might be too busy. You might wonder what on earth you could possibly offer that would be profound or useful.
Take the call anyway. That conversation may change someone’s life.
Now, I know you haven’t even crossed the stage to receive your diploma yet, but I want to tell you it’s never too early to start giving back.
Your education has prepared you to go out into the world and start changing it, perhaps in big ways.
But even the longest novel is written one word at a time. A lifetime of great achievements is accomplished one good deed at a time. Write your own story and make it rich and interesting.
Now, some of you may have heard the adage, “Jump first and build your wings on the way down.”
As Administrator of the FAA, I can’t say that I endorse that philosophy – at least when it comes to airplanes.
But it does get at a central theme that keeps so many of us from reaching our full potential: It really is possible to over-plan your life.
A friend of mine has a piece of artwork on her wall by artist and sculptor Brian Andreas. It reads:
Most people don’t know there are angels
whose only job is to make sure
you don’t get too comfortable
and fall asleep
and miss your life.
Listen to these angels. Look for them.
But you know – even better, be one of them.
I wish you so much more than luck.
Congratulations to you all.