I was told to make my toast longer than one of Nietzsche’s aphorisms but shorter than a Friday night lecture. I’m definitely in that zone.
I stand here tonight to celebrate three miracles that have made tonight possible.
The first is that St. John’s exists. It Is. In every class, “being” has been a theme. From Mr. Drucker and Clarice Lispector to Mr. Winslow & Hegel. From Ms. Elliott and Plato to Mr. Wells and Descartes. Being. Is. I’ve spent two years discovering more about being. As Mr. Winslow said Thursday night, we use the word in almost every sentence. And at this point, all I know is St. John’s Is. It is because it was founded in 1696. It is because Stringfield Barr created the program. It is because Mr. Meem donated the land. And Mr. Weigle & his wife Mary brought St. John’s to Santa Fe 60 years ago. It is because of Mr. Sterling and Ms. Davis. And Mr. Carl. And the tutors and the staff. Everyone who works so hard to make sure that it is here. But it also isn’t here. It’s in Honolulu, Brooklyn, Spain, Boston and Annapolis. My low residency tutors have conducted class from all of those places, and more. The Johnnie Bubble now uses Harry Potter’s Portkey to bring what is here. To there. And what is there, to here. Time and space and being. The miracle is that St. John’s exists.
The second miracle is that I found it. A friend went to St. John’s in 1988 and came back to Baton Rouge, saying her freshman year was the hardest thing ever, and she was going to DIE. So I didn’t apply. Living in Austin, 30 years later, my kid, as a High School Junior, received a postcard. And my partner at the time googled it and told me all about this amazing place that Steven should definitely apply to. We put it quietly on the top of the stack. Steven called up Caroline Randall and made an informational appointment, that turned into an interview. Then applied early decision, got in and went to Annapolis. For Christmas that year, I became extremely envious of the education I was paying for and came to Summer Classics. Ned Walpin told me this could be my life, so I enrolled. In the first Meno seminar, I met Beth Kelly and Ben Altman, later Amit Sheth and Margot Schwartz. And they have become my best friends. If you remember Rousseau’s fish wife who rushes to save the child instead of watching the child be attacked, sitting in his cozy house like a philosopher. Mr. Altman called himself a “fishspouse” after that discussion. SO my little friend group because the “fishspouses.” I found my tribe – my fishspouses here. It is a miracle that Steven found St. John’s. And that I came here. And enrolled. All of the tiny choices that led me here. I’m a legacy student, just from my child, not my parent.
The third miracle I celebrate tonight is that you found it too. From California to Maine to Mexico City. From Milwaukee to Mumbai. From Taiwan to Taos. You have come here and created my education. Yes, the tutors have contributed. If I could raise sacrifice before the Oracle at Levan Hall, I would do so. If I could raise a festival to the new gods instead of Dionysius, I would put each tutor in his place. A few weeks into my first tutorial, Mr. Grenke asked how classes were going. I said that I’d only had one experience like this before in my education. When my freshman year, I studied Xenophon’s Cyropaedia. Mr. Grenke said you had Marc Landy at Boston College for Political Science. I was astonished. He said “I was his Grad Assistant.” After getting his Ph.D., Mr. Grenke found St. John’s. And so did I. Just twenty or so years later. But we were Johnnies then. There are Johnnies everywhere. Some of them just don’t know it yet.
It’s our job to be evangelical when we meet one. To celebrate the miracles. St. John’s Exists. You found it. And so did we all.
Thank you all for everything. For changing my life. For changing. For growing. For learning. For teaching. I know so much less than I did three years ago, but I have un-forgotten so many things, I have dis-covered them. They are un-concealed to me. Thanks so the truth you’ve given me, the Aletheia – they will remain exposed. Whether I am the slave of Meno or Heidegger’s student, you have taught me nothing, and everything. For your contribution to my unknowing, I raise a glass tonight to all of you.
