Good morning, everyone. On behalf of the entire Deerfield community, I am delighted to welcome you to the Academy’s 226th Commencement.
I will have more to say about our Commencement speaker, Mr. Henry Kravis, in a moment, but before we begin, I want to extend our warmest of welcomes to you, Henry, and to your family. We are delighted to have you with us on this amazing day.
First of all, congratulations. Most especially to the Class of 2025. These past weeks— with all of their performances, concerts, athletic triumphs, awards, and fanfare—have been an amazing, and most fitting, celebration of your achievements, your leadership, and your engagement—everything you’ve done to create, as classes before you have created, the goodness of this school.
A few days ago, a friend of mine passed along to me an article from the New York Times describing your generation as the “most rejected” ever. Many statistics and lots of evidence followed in support of his claim, including the example of one college student who applied for 40 summer internships—and was rejected by 39.
Its author, David Brooks, is undoubtedly correct that the race for college admissions, for internships, for jobs—even for places in student clubs—has grown more fierce and dispiriting. You face challenges different than prior generations, and challenges can certainly take their toll. As Brooks points out, rejection is not a lot of fun. “It threatens,” he writes, “our most important psychic needs: for belonging, for agency, for competence.”
I must say, I found this piece to be head-bangingly depressing. So, what did I do? I went to the theater! To see our most recent theatrical triumph, The Play That Goes Wrong. I know that not everyone here has seen it—it’s a rollicking farce of a play about a hapless community theater group staging a murder mystery. Or at least I think it was a murder mystery. In the end, I wasn’t sure if there was a murder, much less a murderer. In the hierarchy of genres, farce—the theatrical equivalent to Quad Squad—is not the most elevated form of human expression. My trusty AI assistant, Aristotle, tells me that farce is a theatrical form characterized by ludicrous exaggeration, superficial characterization, lewdness, and much spitting. Yes. This production had it all! The liberal arts at its very finest.
But farce is also very serious; in the end, it’s about the triumph of ingenuity, playfulness, and inspired improvisation over confusion, setback, and absurdity. Life, we know, is full of farce. Clever seniors replace the head of school’s desk chair with a commode. Spring prom arrives and a rare New England Nor’easter hits. Or, to recall the essential plot elements of The Play That Goes Wrong, the paintings fall off the wall. The set collapses. Duran Duran begins to play. And nobody likes Duran Duran.
So, as I look out at you, I don’t see I don’t see one of the most rejected generations. I see joy in challenge, resilience in the face of setback, openness and excitement for new adventures. I see all the qualities of spirit and character and brilliance that have made this year such a great one; this community such a strong one, and your class such a decisive and defining one. I see Aviel, arms outstretched, like Samson, holding up a clock and coat of arms; Declan pinning the dog portrait to the wall with one hand while reaching for the phone with his foot.
I also see a most fortunate—and blessed—group of students, and if Commencement is about anything, it’s about that—a moment to pause and consider those blessings.
There is a wonderful and easily overlooked moment at the end of John McPhee’s The Headmaster. Mr. Boyden is in his 80s; he’s at the very end of his 66-year career. He stands on the baseball field, not far from here, and he’s about to hit what must be one of his final fungos as coach.
He pauses, looks back at the Main School Building, and says: “Let’s not be boastful, let’s be thankful for what we’ve got … isn’t it beautiful? We didn’t have anything for so long that we had years and years to think of what we would like. I go around as often as I can to make sure it’s still there. This is the kind of day when you get the shadows on the hills and the mist on the river.”
There is much to say about this moment since it captures something important and essential about this day. His call for humility—“Let’s not be boastful”— and for gratitude: “Let’s be thankful.” His sense of awe: “Isn’t it beautiful.” The sense of a long journey undertaken and the years and years it took to envision and realize what we enjoy here today.
His sense that institutions, like this one, are inspired acts of creation and stewardship. There is a sense of the stolidity and permanence to Mr. Boyden’s Deerfield, and fragility. Deerfield appears to him almost as a dream. “I go around as often as I can to make sure it is still there.” His sense that this school exists within an expanse of time and flux and seasonal change. That all of us are part of something much bigger than ourselves.
I heard it said recently that gratitude is composed of two separate ideas. The first is a recognition so powerfully expressed by Mr. Boyden those many years ago, is a recognition that there is goodness in the world. The world may be imperfect—the play may not always go to plan—yet there is much goodness to be found in it. The second is that you have been the beneficiaries and the recipients of that goodness and that today, we have much to be grateful for.
My own thanks go out to our Board of Trustees, and especially to our President, Ms. Govi. The collective leadership of our Board sustains our mission and ensures its future, and it’s in good hands.
Our staff. Deerfield is a tremendous team effort. It flourishes not only because everyone brings dedication and imagination to their work here, but also because they’re willing to go above and beyond, so we’re grateful to all of our staff for making this Commencement Weekend, this year, and this school, possible. Thank you.
We are mindful, as well, that tomorrow is Memorial Day, first observed in 1868 not long after the conclusion of the Civil War. Memorial Day reminds us that the freedoms, opportunities, and Constitutional traditions we enjoy today, and which have inspired so much of the world—bringing to our shores countless others seeking a share of those opportunities, were hard-fought and harder-won. Let us honor the memory of those who have served this country by striving to lead lives of integrity and purpose, and never take for granted the civic and democratic heritage that binds us together as citizens.
We’re grateful to our faculty—one of whom, as Ms. Govi reminded us, is Mr. Scandling, who retires this year after almost 40 years of service. To put that in context, that’s roughly 23,000 English classes, 12,000 sit-down meals, 10,000 practices, a few thousand matches, and a lot of chicken pot pie. If you could map that, you would have some sense of Mr. Scandling’s dedication, influence, and extensive presence across this community over the last four decades. And in that way, he embodies the very, very best of our faculty. Thank you, Mark.
Earlier this year we lost a friend and very special member of our community, Dr. Eric Widmer Class of 1957. With his wife, Meera, Dr. Widmer led Deerfield as Headmaster from 1994 to 2006. And together, they founded King’s Academy in Jordan. Meera, it is wonderful to have you back on campus today.
Lastly, I want to thank your families. Our families, and especially our parents, are our first teachers. Your families saw in you all that you were capable of, including having the courage to leave behind the familiar to come here to Deerfield—often from great distance and always with great sacrifice. In spite of how much they knew they would miss you, your families gave you a great gift. I should say it’s not a normal kind of gift—it’s something that you have to make your own and that you have to complete. And you have done that with poise, with spirit, energy, generosity, and creativity, and in a way that I know will inspire the classes below you to follow your great example and continue the cycle of virtue and goodness that you have sustained here during your time. You have led the way, and we are grateful and proud. Keep those paintings on the wall. Congratulations.