Welcome, members of the Harvard College Class of 2030!
Today, we do more than mark the beginning of your time as undergraduate students. We embrace you as members of the University community. Harvard, as you will soon experience firsthand, is a research institution populated by thousands of individuals who are pursuing knowledge in nearly every field and discipline. Their energy, creativity, and optimism—the complexity and diversity of work being undertaken here every day—are simply astonishing.
How can you, the newest members of our community, determine where you might fit in this vast constellation of excellence and ambition, where you might gain your greatest insights as thinkers and make your greatest contributions as doers?
But, first, is anyone here from Illinois?
Me too. Rock Island.
Now, I don’t know if this is because I grew up in Illinois, but, if you aspire to a presidency – of any kind – you should keep a journal about your first few weeks here. Each of you should, wherever you’re from. I’ll tell you why. One of the things interviewers love to ask is: What was it like to adjust to life at Harvard?
When I arrived here in 1973, my hair was longer. And thicker. My collar was wider. Every phone had a cord. Every dorm room had a turntable. Every student had a typewriter, and every typewriter had an ink-saturated ribbon, and every ink-saturated ribbon ran out right before the paper was due. Almost no one filmed themselves dancing in public.
But, despite these differences, the experience of adjusting to living here has changed little over the decades. Or centuries. Each of us leaves the comfortable and familiar, both eager and uneasy. Each of us looks for ways to orient ourselves and to connect with others. Each of us worries—maybe a little, maybe a lot—about whether we have made the right decision.
I believe that our beginnings—separated by a half-century—are more alike than different. I also believe that here you will find what I found: a community of deeply inquisitive people who are inspiring and motivating. Last spring, I had lunch with members of the Class of 2026. They spoke about how their friendships and relationships—with one another as well as with advisors and mentors—had made their time here immeasurably richer.
Which brings me to how you can find your place here.
As a first-year student, I thought that I would become a physician, so I declared biochemistry as my concentration. I enrolled in Physics 12 and Ec 10. They were surprisingly interesting. My assumption that I would become a doctor no longer seemed so solid.
First bit of advice: You should doubt your gut feelings.
Second bit of advice: Don’t forget to eat. But don’t eat alone.
I moved into Dunster House my second year, and I became friends with a wonderful grad student named Jerome Culp. He was the resident tutor in economics. We would sit together in the dining hall and have animated, serious conversations about all sorts of things. He offered advice, and some of it stuck. He convinced me that I should switch my concentration from biochemistry to economics, setting me on a path to earning both a Ph.D. and an M.D. That choice led me to some wonderful places, and I have never regretted it. Most importantly, it eventually brought me back to this University—and to this day—and to this podium.
Which brings me to my third—and last—bit of advice: If you get a sense that someone sees something in you, a talent, capacity, or passion that you hadn’t recognized, listen to them carefully and take their suggestions seriously. Intentionally or not, they may identify an unexpected spot for you in constellation Harvard. And you may find yourself shining more brightly than you ever imagined you could.
In this constellation, we seek truth. Not just about the world but about ourselves, looking inward even as we look outward. And, as in all our endeavors, we do a much better job when we work with others to figure things out. I will always be grateful to Jerome—and to many other people throughout my time in the College and later in life—for seeing in me qualities I did not see in myself, leading to opportunities and satisfaction beyond my greatest expectations.
This is what I wish for you, members of the Harvard College Class of 2030: the wherewithal to doubt intuition, to make deep connections, and to see where good advice can lead. Good luck to all of you—and best of luck to those of you from the Land of Lincoln.