I don’t know if I can do Wednesday morning convo anymore. Of course, it’s not really up to me. With five credits under my belt and limited free time, Wednesday morning is the only time I can put aside for against-your-will inspirational speeches. But I’m discouraged because these assemblies aren’t nearly as encouraging as they could be.
As of late, convocation’s been darker than a submarine with electrical problems. I’ve walked into the last couple bobbing with enthusiasm, but I keep finding myself exiting the Fieldhouse with a heavy heart, questioning the point of it all.
Last week was the final straw; the triple-threat trio. God bless her soul, but the speaker went into grave detail about a childhood consisting of her father’s suicide, her young brother’s death from leukemia and her other sibling’s brutal murder. When it was over, I looked around at my other classmates, all of whom seemed like they had just been kicked in the gut by a billy goat. Their faces were whiter than an albino with SPF45, as if they had just seen the Mickey mascot at Disneyland rip off his mask and light up a Swisher’s sweet.
This cannot be the intended effect of the Convocation Series: students leaving every Wednesday wondering about the randomness of life, if they’re nothing but cogs in a vicious wheel that’s ever-turning, inattentive to their place among the whole, rolling along with the intentionality of a PLINKO game. How many times must we be subjugated to the “Sh** Happens” speech before Pepperdine is assured that we are aware of our own blessedness?
Now I’m a big fan of Sarah Jaggard. I am not in any way criticizing the overall messages of these talks. I only aim to shine light upon the fact that before they come to their triumphant moral platitudes, these speeches have me twitching in pain and whispering “I can’t do this anymore,” to those around me. I’m not convinced unconscionable tragedy is a prerequisite for worldly wisdom.
Where are the people who’ve had it OK in life? Who grew up under average circumstances and went on to change the world? Where’s the guy who started TOMS Shoes, or the girl who took all of the blessings God gave her and provided villages in Haiti with water? Forget the long lines at the one exit door; people would be floating out of the rafter windows with these kinds of talks.
Senior A.J. Hawks did a fantastic job a couple weeks ago of engaging us with a relatable topic, ending his speech with a biblical seed that could be applied at the Sodexo grill 20 minutes later, when dozens were weighing the pros and cons of having a meltdown over French toast.
This is what we need. Convo is a recharge station for a student body running on fumes at the start of “hump-day.” We need to be injected with an energetic boost of positivity, not reminded that people get murdered or participated in the killing of millions of Jews. How else can one relate those stories to their lives besides reticently saying “My family’s never been run over by a bus or mauled by tigers, so I should stop complaining?”
Convo has the unique ability to provide our student body an optimistic notion that can help us finish our week with fervor. College kids, more than anyone else, need concrete examples of people taking control of their own destiny, people who recognize problems and dedicate their lives to making a difference.
It used to be widely accepted that a four-minute mile was impossible. Humans, for all their accomplishments, had limitations. One day Roger Bannister ran a mile in 3:59.4. Soon after, the sub four-minute mile became more commonplace than a celebrity meltdown on PCH.
Yes, the world is full of tragedy. What we’re dying for is someone to show us that brick walls are nothing but smoke screens when you get close enough … that no abyss can conquer the spirit of a man willing to build a big enough bridge … that failure is a seven letter word meaning “not yet.” We’re dying for Roger Bannisters.
