Johnson is a Dorchester, Massachusetts native who attended Boston Latin Academy from grades 7 to 11. This prestigious academy was ranked second in the state.

During his junior year at the academy, Johnson underwent 3 surgeries – 2 on his hip and 1 on his knee. The recovery period for these surgeries forced Johnson to miss almost 4 months of school. Although Johnson’s family had requested an at-home tutor in October, the school only provided one in March of the following year. By this point, Johnson was far behind in his academics.

Johnson dropped out of Boston Latin Academy at the end of his junior year, proceeding to take SAT prep courses from Sylvan Learning Center and to receive his GED in November.

Saint Anselm College appealed to Johnson because it was a small, tight-knit community in comparison to state schools with close to 45,000 students. Unfortunately, Johnson was unable to take the GED in time to get accepted at the college so he spent his first semester at Quincy Community College, and then transferred to Saint A’s his second semester.

Johnson believes there are two factors that influenced his acceptance at Saint A’s. First, he received a perfect score on the writing section of his GED and second, he made a good impression during his interview with the Admissions Office.

During his time here Johnson enrolled in many difficult courses to challenge himself, including Russian. Since he had already taken Chinese and Japanese in high school, Johnson wanted to learn a new language in addition to the three he already knew.

Reflecting on his four years at the college Johnson says, “They mean a lot to me now; I’ve gained people, experiences, and values that will never be forgotten and are due entirely to this school.”

While Johnson enjoyed every part of his college experience, the highlight of his career was studying abroad in Russia during the fall 2012 semester.  Johnson greatly encourages all Anselmians to do so, since it is a great opportunity for the same price as, if not cheaper than, a semester on campus.

Johnson’s long-term goal is to become a college professor, although he has many plans before attending graduate school. In the upcoming months, Johnson wants to become certified in the program Teaching English as a Foreign Language. With this certificate, he hopes to travel to another country, ideally Russia, to work with people interested in learning English. If he ends up working here, Johnson would like to attend graduate school in Russia.

Although he has a bright future ahead of him, Johnson says that he will miss the atmosphere at Saint Anselm College created by the monks.

I was struck by the massive outpouring of support, prayer, and donations for all those victims and families affected by the bombing at the Boston Marathon. More than $20 million was raised for the One Fund Boston in the first week alone, and the Twitter hashtag #prayforboston could be seen on nearly every profile.

Why was Boston so special? Yes, the death toll rose to four, the number injured to more than 250, but what else happened that day? Bombings across Iraq killed 50 and injured more than 300. Yet there was no #prayforbaghdad, no One Fund Baghdad. Two days later, a fertilizer plant in West, Texas exploded and 15 were killed, more than 200 injured. Days after that a magnitude 7.0 earthquake hit the Sichuan province in China, killing 200 and injuring more than 11,000. Again, no new million-dollar funds, no Twitter trends.

So what makes the difference? Why is the Boston bombing a tragedy, the West explosion devastating, and the China earthquake a disaster? An article I once read listed five factors that, in combination with each other, make death a tragedy. Scope, prematurity, publicity, consequences, and lasting effects all contribute to the classification of a tragedy.

The scope of the event describes the extent to which it affects different people more removed from the actual occurrence. In the case of the Boston Marathon bombing its effects were wide and far-reaching. Nearly everyone in the New England area “knew” someone who was there, or who was almost there; certainly everyone here at the college knew at least one person who was down in Boston with the marathon team.

A tragedy can also be viewed as a tragedy when the loss of life can be viewed as premature. This was certainly a factor in the Boston tragedy, as eight-year-old Martin Richard was one of the first victims of the blast.

The bombing quickly became one of the most publicized disasters of the year. The media, both social and news, took off with the story, becoming a 24-hour cycle of updates and stories. The more widespread the coverage, the more people who see it, the more they feel a part of the story.

The consequences and lasting effects of the marathon bombing go hand in hand, adding to the strength of the event. Consequences include issues like lack of sense of security, obvious injury and death, and damage to the surrounding area. These are not things that can be easily forgotten, and will stick to residents and victims for a long time to come.

Why do I talk about this? Why bring up the subject at all? I make a convincing argument for the Boston bombing being a greater tragedy than the industrial accident in Texas. It was arguably harder hitting than the China earthquake, because this was an attack on a symbol of our country.

But guess what? It doesn’t matter. A human life is special and sacred, and whether it is lost in a terrorist attack, natural disaster, or illness it should be respected and mourned in exactly the same way. A person’s death does not become more special or honorable simply because he or she was killed by a terrorist rather than an accident.

So remember, next time you see something on the news about a series of deaths or a sad event, don’t base your feelings off the number of people killed, or how it happened. If you are going to be sad, be sad because a human life was lost. Be sad because of the joy the person may have brought a family, or the ideas the person may have had. Weep not for what was, weep for what can now never be.

First off, I want to thank you folks for giving me some of the best partying experiences of my life. Some of these grades are a little too brown nosey for my taste, and it was nice to experience some rebellion at Saint Anselm.

Folks like Joe Gill and his numerous political scandals on this campus always provided for quite the entertainment. I gotta hand it to the kid, he has got some spunk. Made me slap my knee and laugh every time I heard Mr. Gill was campaigning again. As Student Government President he, oh, wait…never mind.

Joe is a great kid though, always supportive of my articles—I secretly think it’s because we’re both rebels.

Damages followed this class all through their years here. Each time damages came out for students across campus, there was a clear increase in the area where the Class of 2013 resided. Sometimes I thought it was a little much, but now looking back you all were just silly kids anyway.

You guys shaped up though. As you grew older you all took on leadership roles, and brought new innovative ideas to this campus. Some of you still have some growing to do, but you all have great personalities and are fun to be around. You made every event fun, and Maude is all about having fun.

Uppers, I mean, Father Bernard Court, was quite the show this year as well. Man, you kids sure can show an old lady a good time. I have never consumed so many adult beverages in my life. Left my old lady ankles swollen the next day from all the wandering around.

I will truly miss your class. SAC ‘13 was a great group of students, and I will miss seeing these familiar faces. Well familiar to me, I don’t think any of you have actually seen Ms. Maude since I am a good hider.

So as you branch out into the world, I want to pass on my advice. I have lived nine lives, so I have plenty of advice to dispense, but I want you to remember one particular piece of advice.

Here it is…

Oh, jeez, I forgot what it was I was going to say. Probably something old, and wise- sounding.

Well let me just tell you this then: it is easy to go through life without really feeling or experiencing anything. It is possible to shut yourself out from some of the best parts of life, and never feel all the great things life has to offer.

Then you become an old lady nomad wandering around a college campus in New Hampshire.

Do not let that person be you. Take every experience whether it is painful, wonderful, heartbreaking, or gratifying and make sure you allow yourself to really feel it.

Start on May 18, 2013.

You have all worked hard for four years. When you walk across that stage feel proud of what you’ve accomplished. Maybe wink at Father Jonathan who will likely receive his honorary degree. But make sure to take your own experience, and cherish it. You’ve earned it.

Congratulations to the Class of 2013. May you find happiness wherever life takes you. And just remember, I’ll always be watching.

The world is changing around us. I know everyone says that all the time, and it sounds stale and cliché, but it is true. Our world is changing, and we can’t be static in the midst of it. And that, more than anything else, is why spending four years here at Saint Anselm is so important. Because this place, these people, have taught me – have taught us – what we are capable of.

My own example is this: I am an Abbey Player. I served on the Board of Directors for two years, and I know the stump speech we give at shows so well that when I’m 64 and people don’t want to need me or feed me anymore (yes, that’s a Beatles joke), even then, I’ll still be able to recite that spiel. I’ve slept, eaten, and worked in the Dana Center for more hours than I can remember.

Being on this campus for four years, especially as an Abbey Player and an editor for the Crier, has given me a voice that I didn’t know I had. It has taught me a lesson that I hope we have all learned in one way or another – through service on SBA or at the Meelia Center, on the sports fields or in the Church, it doesn’t matter where.

That lesson is this: I can be great someday. We can be great. Not only can we be great, not only can we matter – we already are great. We do matter. Every single one of us.

We always hear people say, “be the change”. I want to tell you, I think saying that is ridiculous. Because see, here’s the thing: you cannot choose whether to be an agent of change in the world. The truth is, you and me, we don’t have a choice. None of us do. We are the change already, whether we like it, whether we admit it, or not.

In theater, one of the first things we learn is that what you choose not to do is just as important as what you do. The words I choose to leave off the page when I write a play are, in their own way, just as important as the ones I do write down. The things we do not say to one another, the moments for which there are no words, matter just as much as the times we rant and rave to our friends about the things and the people that we love.

It has been said that an ordinary man is the most important thing in creation. So, this is my challenge for us. Be ordinary. Every single one of us, through the ordinary things we do every day, because of the people that we are, are the reason for something important in our world.

Maybe it’s the friend you convinced to go on SBA with you. Maybe it’s the roommate you helped with their homework so they could pass that theology requirement. Maybe it’s the scared freshman who wanted to transfer out until she joined Family Weekend Show and found a family with the Abbey Players.

There are hundreds of stories like these. We know some, and there are an infinity of others we don’t. And it is these stories that make Saint Anselm the community we are.

So today, and tomorrow, and the next day: remember what you – remember what we – are capable of. Think of the excitement, the danger, and the responsibility of that. Then embrace it.

The biggest question I hear tossed about is whether it is more beneficial, more “pragmatic,” to enter the job market or continue with graduate studies. No one can answer this question but the individual. Drawbacks and benefits exist for both paths, but each student (not career services, not an advisor, not parents) must act as an adult and choose the path that fits them.

Certainly, one obvious benefit of entering the job market is that, well, jobs pay you! Earning a steady salary immediately after graduation can help students repay loans and begin an independent life out of their parents’ house. It can provide opportunities to start an investment portfolio and begin building a personal nest-egg.

Even if a graduate degree is the ultimate goal, this financial security can make funding and embarking on the graduate school journey easier for some students.

Moreover, some argue that real-world job experience proves more valuable to future employers than merely a graduate degree. According to Carol Sacchetti of Career Services, some employers see students without internships or real-world job experience as “over-educated and under-experienced;” no longer does a graduate degree guarantee future employment, and such a degree should not be pursued for merely that reason. Furthermore, as Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees become more and more common, real-world experience can distinguish applications for future jobs and graduate school.

Furthermore, entering the job market allows students time to mature and reflect, especially if they feel unsure about their future career plans. It can allow them to explore, first-hand, a field in which they show interest. It allows them to earn money while they decide if this current job really fits them, or whether graduate school or a different career is instead for them. Certainly, then, many students may benefit from entering the job market before or instead of graduate school.

Continuing to graduate school immediately after completing undergraduate studies has its pragmatic benefits, too – provided that the student has a somewhat clear sense of what studies they wish to pursue. Forgive me for stating the obvious: the job market, though recovering, is not pretty. If a student knows that graduate school his or her ultimate goal, it may make more sense to continue with education (and thereby defer student loans) rather than begin a long, difficult search for a job that they know will be temporary.

On a similar note, many jobs provide higher starting salaries to applicants with advanced degrees. Finally, if a desired career path requires many years of study beyond the undergraduate level, it perhaps behooves the student to begin immediately towards their ultimate goal. Beyond these considerations, though, graduate studies can prove intellectually stimulating and become paths to maturation in their own right.

As an English geek, I know that I will completely and utterly relish studying literature at the graduate level for its own sake.

Strict pragmatism aside for a moment, graduate school, like our time at Saint Anselm College, does not necessarily need to “do something for us” in terms of immediate job placement. Though not said nearly often enough, something can be said for learning and self-betterment for its own sake. Though I certainly do not claim it to be the only path towards personal fulfillment, for certain students (myself included, I think) it may be the best path for their own personal journey.

As my advisor and I discuss the realities of graduate school and future careers, she consistently tells me to “above all, trust your gut!” Faculty advisors, parents, and career services can all be invaluable tools to help us discover what lies ahead, but only each of us as individuals can decide where life takes us. Job experience and graduate studies can both enrich our personal journeys and provide fundamentally different ways to grow financially, career-wise, and personally; but, what “works” for one person may not work for another. One particular path is not the generally correct one. As we prepare to say goodbye to the class of 2013 and the class of 2014 rises as seniors, I wish everyone a hearty “good luck” in the exciting lives that lie ahead for all of us!

On April 9th, country music star Brad Paisley released his new song which features hip hop star and actor, LL Cool J. The song is titled “Accidental Racist.” The song has created controversy and sparked debate among fans.

The goal of the song was to start communication between blacks and whites, and put an end to racism. While the song has surfaced the subject and made people talk about it, was it done in a way that would truly make a difference?

Various talk shows including Good Morning America, The view, and The Colbert Report have done segments on this song. In one segment that was shown on ExtraTv, LL Cool J clarifies that their intent was never to say slavery was okay, like some of the lyrics may suggest; “If you don’t judge my gold chains, I’ll forget the iron chains.” The intent of the song was to get people to realize we as a country need to forgive some of pain so we can move forward and be a more united nation, says LL Cool J.

“Our generation didn’t start this nation,” is a statement about the time that has passed since slavery was abolished. It is not the current generation that owned, or sold slaves; the song says we should let bygones be bygones simply because it was so long ago that this all happened and we should just forgives all of the racism.

The song certainly has its’ flaws, but the intention behind it seems very genuine. With all of the upset this song has caused it is clear that this is a topic worth talking about. It has been shoved into the back of the closet for decades and people put on a happy face. There is still racism towards blacks from whites and prejudice towards whites from blacks.

This of course is not the situation everywhere, some places have moved beyond it more than others, but it still happens. The two stars were aware that there might be some backlash from the song but they believed that it was worth the risk to shine some light on a piece of history that isn’t just in text books.

Some, who disliked the song, have decided to mock it. Stephen Colbert, from the Colbert report, did a short parody of the song. He called it, “Oopsy-daisy Homophobe.” While the rendition was comical, it undermines the intended message Brad Paisley and LL Cool J aimed to send. Both starts have gone on the record stating that the song is not perfect; some critics have called it “stereotypical,” and said it contains too much “bigotry.”

With all of the negative attention and drama that is drawn to most stars these days, like the Kardashians, or the cast of Jersey Shore, it is refreshing to see celebrities use their fame for good. It is easier to get the attention of the masses on a touchy subject when you have a large fan base who will listen.

Will the song end all racism? No, most likely it won’t, however, the intention behind the song itself was good even if the song is not.

The difficulty with such decisions nowadays lies in the worrisome truth that having a bachelor’s degree tends to be “the new highs school diploma.” As proud of having earned your degree as you should be, it simply is not enough to guarantee a job anymore. The two options at the end of the road seem to most often be that either you’ve gotten enough experience and you’re all set, or you’d better prepare for eons of more schooling.

What we all ought to be asking is, “Am I doing enough?” Saint Anselm provides a great number of opportunities for volunteer work, which is certainly more than useful beyond simply getting a job after graduation. However, as “nice” as volunteer work is (and goodness is it!), having solid experience from internships is what is becoming more and more necessary. While some colleges have academic requirements for their undergraduate students to go through two or three different internships, St. A’s almost seems to fall behind on this matter.

Having internship requirements insinuates at least two strong components necessary to guaranteeing jobs after graduation—one is that the professors and advisors have genuine interest and experience in assisting students transition into careers, and the other is that students will have a much clearer understanding of exactly which career path he or she wishes to take after experiencing one or two different possibilities firsthand.

Granted, such colleges are not so grounded in a liberal arts education. Offering relevant internships to English or History majors, for example, is not as obvious or simple as locating ones for, let’s say, a Psychology major. The “issue” arises in the fact that a liberal arts degree does not confine you to one particular path—an English major may go on into journalism, teaching, technical writing, the arts, etc., which is much broader than saying that a Psychology major may specialize in helping a certain age group of patients.

Therefore, the most important aspect, regardless of your major, is finding out your personal skills and taking up different activities which will help them flourish. Following this, you must take up the great wizard Gandalf’s advice: “The world is not in your books and maps. It’s out there.” As important as our liberal arts education is, if we do not learn to apply it through internships, volunteer work, etc. it is meaningless. Sure, St. A’s may not go out of its way to demand even more requirements of us by stating that we must take internships, but the career services folks are more than happy to help—really, they are; go pay them a visit.

Do not be confined by your major—know your talents, and put them to use in a manner that links back to your major by interning or doing similar volunteer work, but don’t just sit there studying thinking that that’s good enough. The reality is that competition for all sorts of jobs is increasing, and it seems fair (and good in itself) to say that garnering experience beforehand while doing undergraduate work would assist in this quest.

If nothing else, St. A’s perhaps could push more for internship opportunities (which are understandably fewer than those of colleges located in large cities). However, because of how much volunteer work the students here partake in, internships are seemingly unnecessary to some extent. The question of course is, for how long will this continue to be the case, and if or when it is not, will the college (or any college) be able to offer assistance to its undergrads, or will they be forced to seek further education by default? The answer is and, I predict, will remain the same: the amount of schooling you have matters very little (unless you wish to become a surgeon or something in which case we all beg you to take more classes)—the importance lies in the real-world application you as an individual have, not in the generic textbook information you absorbed alongside 500 other people.

In the morning, as a token of love and appreciation, I picked up breakfast from the nearby bagel joint. Bostonians were already decked out in their summer finest for Marathon Monday. One girl held a big gulp travel pitcher, while another sported a fanny pack. When we went out, our bus terminated at BU and so we happily followed the stream of people trickling past.

We arrived at mile 25 in time to watch the wheelchair racers, the motorcades for elite women and men, and soldiers in full fatigues and packs. But more uplifting was, the British spectators awaiting their son, marathoners in hot dog costumes, and the man who performed a cartwheel to the crowd’s applause after 25 miles of running.

By boyfriend and I made our way to Coolidge Corner to meet a friend of mine from high school for lunch. Marathoners who had already finished wore medals and plastic coats as they walked by us on drunken legs. We started eating without my friend, because she took 45 minutes to cross the marathon route. She luckily arrived before we finished all the pizza.

It was in the restaurant that my boyfriend got a call from his roommate: a bomb has gone off at the finish line. I was quick to question the truth of it—plenty of rumors were sure to get circulate today—but the link to pictures on twitter came a minute later. The blood sprayed on the empty sidewalk of Copley square couldn’t be so easily refuted.

After a couple of minutes, groups in the restaurant began to look more and more at their phones, including the bartenders. “Has no one else heard this?” asked a man behind us, to which another responded, “Those people have, and them,” indicating what tables were now bent over smart phones. No one announced it to the restaurant; no one would take it upon themselves to say beyond a doubt it was true.

We settled our bill quietly. “Text me when you get home,” I told my friend. We parted in opposite directions.

It had been a year since I asked a friend to text me when they arrived safely home. During the time I was in Delhi, there were two terrorist attacks. The first was a bomb outside the Indian parliament; the rain washed away the evidence. The second, a car bomb targeted the Israeli ambassador; his wife and children died. These had been far enough away as to not impose on our lives. It had been for daily dangers that we confirmed each other’s safety.

It was hard to tell whom on the street knew what had happened as my boyfriend and I walked back to his apartment. It could only have been ten minutes after the bombs exploded. Who of everyone looking at their phones, with children and friends, was looking at pictures of the stained and wrecked finish line?

A heavyset man in an oversized sweatshirt stopped me on the sidewalk, asking, “have you heard if anyone is hurt?” “I’ve heard six injured,” I said. I had asked my mom to text me what she heard on the news. ” No one dead?” he asked. “That’s all I’ve heard.” “How bad are they?” “That’s all I’ve heard,” I repeated. He moved quickly in the opposite direction towards the race.

Back at my boyfriend’s apartment, the first thing I did was to reactivate my Twitter account. Google’s first result for “Boston Marathon” and “bomb” was from Vanity Fair; the major news sites hadn’t yet put up their stories. When they did upload videos to Youtube, they came with advertisements. We turned on the TV and, without anything else to do, watched the same videos on repeat.

Eventually true information was separated from the false. Google set up a missing person finder. The Boston Globe connected stranded runners with Bostonians willing to offer their hospitality. The Red Cross reported it had enough blood. Parts of the T were closed. By evening, we had no new information and nothing left to do.

Together we made dinner, watched South Park, Vikings, and Game of Thrones. In my head, our commonplace activities were punctuated by dour reflections of how I ought to behave. Was I allowed to laugh at Cartman? Was I allowed to have easy conversation? Was I required to be grave, or obliged to keep living, when living in turn requires moments of happiness?

That the bombs had gone off, killing 2 and injuring 100 (at that point) was an irrefutable fact. I had watched the videos on TV so many times that it was solidly real in my head. Its being real, however, did not reconcile it with the other irrefutable fact of that day, which was the Boston Marathon itself. The later, being so completely characterized by celebration and by joyous solidarity, could not merge with the explosions, the hewn limbs, and the evacuated square. I had run the course, and I had crossed the finish line. Those memories from two years ago could not be reconciled with the day’s violence. They were two real events with the same magnetic pole that could not—can not—be brought together.

On Tuesday morning, my boyfriend and I walked on the sidewalk behind a man whose blue jacket and halted gate marked him as a marathon runner. From the yellow plastic bag slung over his shoulder, I guessed he had taken advantage of a stranger’s hospitality for the night he had not expected to spend in Boston. No one on the street congratulated him; no one asked if he had finished. Neither I nor anyone else knew what to say to this slow-moving stranger. We all just let him by without staring for too long.

The bombings, manhunt, and now arrest have led me to a decision I did not expect to make: I will run another marathon. The spirit of the Boston Marathon is one of communal celebration and solidarity, both of which rely fundamentally on trust. As runners we place our trust in the soccer moms handing us orange slices. As spectators we place our trust in our cheering comrades. Most of all we place our trust in the hope, inspiration, and achievement the Boston Marathon celebrates.

My next marathon will not carry fear nor fight against it; with such an intention I could never finish. It will celebrate a great community that comes together in joy, in fellowship, and in trust.

only have been ten minutes after the bombs exploded. Who of everyone looking at their phones, with children and friends, was looking at pictures of the stained and wrecked finish line?

A heavyset man in an oversized sweatshirt stopped me on the sidewalk, asking, “have you heard if anyone is hurt?” “I’ve heard six injured,” I said. I had asked my mom to text me what she heard on the news. ” No one dead?” he asked. “That’s all I’ve heard.” “How bad are they?” “That’s all I’ve heard,” I repeated. He moved quickly in the opposite direction towards the race.

Back at my boyfriend’s apartment, the first thing I did was to reactivate my Twitter account. Google’s first result for “Boston Marathon” and “bomb” was from Vanity Fair; the major news sites hadn’t yet put up their stories. When they did upload videos to Youtube, they came with advertisements. We turned on the TV and, without anything else to do, watched the same videos on repeat.

Eventually true information was separated from the false. Google set up a missing person finder. The Boston Globe connected stranded runners with Bostonians willing to offer their hospitality. The Red Cross reported it had enough blood. Parts of the T were closed. By evening, we had no new information and nothing left to do.

Together we made dinner, watched South Park, Vikings, and Game of Thrones. In my head, our commonplace activities were punctuated by dour reflections of how I ought to behave. Was I allowed to laugh at Cartman? Was I allowed to have easy conversation? Was I required to be grave, or obliged to keep living, when living in turn requires moments of happiness?

That the bombs had gone off, killing 2 and injuring 100 (at that point) was an irrefutable fact. I had watched the videos on TV so many times that it was solidly real in my head. Its being real, however, did not reconcile it with the other irrefutable fact of that day, which was the Boston Marathon itself. The later, being so completely characterized by celebration and by joyous solidarity, could not merge with the explosions, the hewn limbs, and the evacuated square. I had run the course, and I had crossed the finish line. Those memories from two years ago could not be reconciled with the day’s violence. They were two real events with the same magnetic pole that could not—can not—be brought together.

On Tuesday morning, my boyfriend and I walked on the sidewalk behind a man whose blue jacket and halted gate marked him as a marathon runner. From the yellow plastic bag slung over his shoulder, I guessed he had taken advantage of a stranger’s hospitality for the night he had not expected to spend in Boston. No one on the street congratulated him; no one asked if he had finished. Neither I nor anyone else knew what to say to this slow-moving stranger. We all just let him by without staring for too long.

The bombings, manhunt, and now arrest have led me to a decision I did not expect to make: I will run another marathon. The spirit of the Boston Marathon is one of communal celebration and solidarity, both of which rely fundamentally on trust. As runners we place our trust in the soccer moms handing us orange slices. As spectators we place our trust in our cheering comrades. Most of all we place our trust in the hope, inspiration, and achievement the Boston Marathon celebrates.

My next marathon will not carry fear nor fight against it; with such an intention I could never finish. It will celebrate a great community that comes together in joy, in fellowship, and in trust.

The immortal words of Bob Marley in his song “No Woman No Cry” stand as a reminder for all of us, as we move on to bigger and (hopefully) better things, to remember the past, and remember where we came from.

This is an especially important message for graduating seniors as you head out into the world of professional work in the fields you’ve all become an expert in during the last four years. As you get settled and begin to work your way through your respective corporate ladders, remember where you came from, and how you got where you are.

As every college grad going for a new job knows, it is not what you know, but who you know. As you began to apply for your first internships during the last couple of years, many of you managed to get accepted to different workplaces through connections you had made or people you knew who worked there.

There is nothing wrong with this, but remember it someday when the tables are turned. One day you will be working in the office and a student will approach you to ask for an opportunity to prove his or her ability. The student may be nervous, inexperienced, and young, but also spirited.

Sometimes you need to take a chance. Remember back to your first applications, and how you didn’t have much on your résumé. Maybe your GPA wasn’t all that high, or your only job experience was mowing lawns. But someone took a chance on you. Do the same for others.

As you move on, remember also the people who have been there for you, as Bob Marley sings, “good friends we have had, oh, good friends we have lost along the way.” You’ve had four years to form relationships, make best friends, do everything together, laugh, cry, get sick of each other, stop talking, and become best friends again by Wednesday. You can’t live with them, but you couldn’t imagine life without them.

It is so easy to take things for granted today. We take the NHIOP for granted, passing up opportunities to see senators, ambassadors, and presidential candidates because the walk from Uppers is too long. We took Davison for granted too, until we were finally off the meal plan and into apartments. Broiled chicken and Leslie’s “I’m going to start with your drink” begins to look pretty good, once you realize you have to cook and shop for yourself.

Search yourself as you leave one chapter and begin another, and think about how you want to live your life. Challenge yourself to live without regrets; not quite a YOLO point of view, but a way to live so that you won’t look back one day and realize that you really missed out on something special.

Each day, live life to its fullest, and don’t give yourself an opportunity to have to wonder about what could have been. Rather, know that you took every chance, jumped to make a “what if” a “what is,” and chased the future you wanted.

Saint Anselm College has taught you about charity, hospitality, community, citizenship, and education. Embrace these as you move away and leave our community for the last time. Know that people recognize and admire these qualities, and that they can sometimes be a more important part of landing a job than the words on your résumé.

Class of 2013, Crier is proud of you and all you have accomplished. It has truly been a pleasure, and we look forward to reporting on your activities someday soon.