SHS 2013 Graduation Faculty Address: Places to Go, People to See, Things to Do by Elizabeth McKay

Good evening to the Class of 2013, members of the Board of Education, administrators, teachers, parents, and guests.  I am honored to have been chosen as the faculty speaker this evening.  Honored and…well, truthfully…a little terrified.  Standing at this podium brings back memories of my own high school graduation, at which I was also selected to speak.  I sat on the stage that afternoon, with sweaty palms and a pounding heart, taking deep breaths and trying to banish visions of a fall of Miss America-magnitude humiliation on my way to the podium.

Unlike here in Simsbury, at my high school the student graduation speakers did not volunteer, but were designated to speak, a fact that reflected, in many ways, the larger high school experience.  As a high school student, there were many choices that others made for you.  You were assigned to particular places—to attend a particular school, to sign up for classes that fulfilled distribution requirements, or to be at the field or on the bus at a particular time of day.  To a great extent, choices about the people with whom you were permitted to associate may also have been strongly influenced by the adults in your life.  And there were certainly restrictions on what each of you was permitted to do—where and with whom you were allowed to drive, where you could lurk in pursuit of that Water Wars victory, or even whether you could drench your taco in nacho cheese.  The places you went, the people you saw, and the things that you did were, to a greater extent than they will be in your adult life, determined by others. 

One of the most exciting things about leaving high school is the freedom to make your own choices on the road to “adulthood.”  For each of you—whether you are continuing your education, entering the armed forces, moving into the workforce, or just hoping to find a way to move out of the parental residence—you will have a significantly greater number of opportunities to make your own decisions, and those choices will have increasingly important consequences.  Although the array of possibilities for your future can and should be thrilling, sometimes the choices are so numerous that they can also be daunting.

Several years ago, a former student gave me a copy of Barry Schwartz’s book, The Paradox of Choice, in which he argues that the greater the number of available options, the more overwhelmed and unhappy we have the potential to become.  The thesis of the book is well-illustrated by a story about shopping for a new pair of jeans.  The author assumes that he will walk into the store, find the appropriate size, pay for his purchase, and get on with his day.  He quickly discovers, that, in the decade or so since he last purchased jeans, the choices have proliferated—straight leg, boot cut, relaxed fit, wide leg, skinny;… acid wash, light wash, dark wash, vintage, whiskered?…What??  What was anticipated to be a thirty-minute shopping trip ended up taking the better part of a day.  The task had morphed from a quick stop to grab a pair of jeans into an epic quest to find the best possible pair of jeans on the market.  The more options existed, the more important it seemed to make the right choice. 

Imagine the potential for decision-making anxiety when the stakes are much higher than the view of one’s derriere in a three-way mirror.  Many of you have already experienced the strain of choice when making college decisions.  In the next decade, you will face other important, potentially life-altering choices:  Where will you settle to build your life?  Will you commit to a partner for the duration?  Which of the available career options will provide a comfortable income as well as personal fulfillment?  You will certainly be fortunate to live in a time and a place where you are able to have a say in answering these important questions.  But how will you reconcile the plethora of opportunities that exist with the pressure created by so many choices?

When important choices do need to be made, Schwartz recommends fighting the urge to be a “maximizer,” and instead becoming what he calls a “satisficer.”  “Maximizers” seek and accept only the best; they constantly wonder what else is out there, and regret that they did not consider more options.  As a result, they are never truly happy.  “Satisficers,” on the other hand, choose something that meets carefully chosen criteria, then avoid worrying that there might be an option just a little bit better.  Somewhat paradoxically, the more people endeavor to make good choices, rather than continuing to speculate about an often elusive best choice, the more satisfied they tend to be.

It is also possible to seek respite from a world with so many choices by taking a break from the new and exciting to embrace the predictable and the familiar.  I was fortunate enough to live in one place for most of my childhood; many of you have experienced the same.  The place in which I grew up was not nearly as picturesque as Simsbury.  My friends and family were far from perfect.  Not all of the pursuits that occupied my time were really worthy of my efforts.   However, when I travel back to the place where I grew up, the predictability that once seemed “the ultimate in boredom” is now reassuring.  Those places, people, and things from my past are now unalterable constants—they existed as they were; there are no choices there.

Most of you will walk out this evening excited about future opportunities—even if you haven’t quite settled upon where, with whom, or what they will be.  Whether you have days, or weeks, or months between this ceremony and your next adventure, take a few moments in the midst of your planning to revisit the places you’ve frequented, to appreciate the people who have really known you, and to pat yourself on the back for what your hard work has accomplished.  There will likely be a time down the road when, in the midst of a difficult decision at an essential crossroads, you will step outside for a breath of fresh air.  The angle of the sunlight, the scent of the foliage, or the humidity that swims around you may be just right to transport you back to a familiar place, good times with close friends, and the lessons of decisions already made.  In spite of the complexity or uncertainty of the choice that confronts you, you will be subtly reassured by the sometimes unanticipated comfort of consistency, and you will have the confidence to know what to do.

I have greatly enjoyed the opportunity to teach many members of the class of 2013.  Congratulations on what you have accomplished, and good luck with your future endeavors!