总结不仅仅是总结成绩，更重要的是为了研究经验，发现做好工作的规律，也可以找出工作失误的教训。这些经验教训是非常宝贵的，对工作有很好的借鉴与指导作用，在今后工作中可以改进提高，趋利避害，避免失误。那么我们该如何写一篇较为完美的总结呢？以下我给大家整理了一些优质的总结范文，希望对大家能够有所帮助。
学生生活是非常美好的，有很多美好的回忆。我还记得我们班有一个男生，每天都在女生的宿舍楼下拉小提琴，(笑声)希望能够引起女生的注意，结果后来被女生扔了水瓶子。我还记得我自己为了吸引女生的注意，每到寒假和暑假都帮着女生扛包。(笑声、掌声)后来我发现那个女生有男朋友，(笑声)我就问她为什么还要让我扛包，她说为了让男朋友休息一下(笑声、掌声)。我也记得刚进北大的时候我不会讲普通话，全班同学第一次开班会的时候互相介绍，我站起来自我介绍了一番，结果我们的班长站起来跟我说："俞敏洪你能不能不讲日语?"(笑声)我后来用了整整一年时间，拿着收音机在北大的树林中模仿广播台的播音，但是到今天普通话还依然讲得不好。
人的进步可能是一辈子的事情。在北大是我们生活的一个开始，而不是结束。有很多事情特别让人感动。比如说，我们很有幸见过朱光潜教授。在他最后的日子里，是我们班的同学每天轮流推着轮椅在北大里陪他一起散步。(掌声)每当我推着轮椅的时候，我心中就充满了对朱光潜教授的崇拜，一种神圣感油然而生。所以，我在大学看书最多的领域是美学。因为他写了一本《西方美学史》，是我进大学以后读的第二本书。
为什么是第二本呢?因为第一本是这样来的，我进北大以后走进宿舍，我有个同学已经在宿舍。那个同学躺在床上看一本书，叫做《第三帝国的兴亡》。所以我就问了他一句话，我说："在大学还要读这种书吗?"他把书从眼睛上拿开，看了我一眼，没理我，继续读他的书。这一眼一直留在我心中。我知道进了北大不仅仅是来学专业的，要读大量大量的书。你才能够有资格把自己叫做北大的学生。(掌声)所以我在北大读的第一本书就是《第三帝国的兴亡》，而且读了三遍。后来我就去找这个同学，我说："咱们聊聊《第三帝国的兴亡》"，他说："我已经忘了。"(笑声)
我也记得我的导师李赋宁教授，原来是北大英语系的主任，他给我们上《新概念英语》第四册的时候，每次都把板书写得非常的完整，非常的美丽。永远都是从黑板的左上角写起，等到下课铃响起的时候，刚好写到右下角结束。(掌声)我还记得我的英国文学史的老师罗经国教授，我在北大最后一年由于心情不好，导致考试不及格。我找到罗教授说："这门课如果我不及格就毕不了业。"，罗教授说："我可以给你一个及格的分数，但是请你记住了，未来你一定要做出值得我给你分数的事业。"(掌声)所以，北大老师的宽容、学识、奔放、自由，让我们真正能够成为北大的学生，真正能够得到北大的精神。当我听说许智宏校长对学生唱《隐形的翅膀》的时候，我打开视频，感动得热泪盈眶。因为我觉得北大的校长就应该是这样的。(掌声)
我记得自己在北大的时候有很多的苦闷。一是普通话不好，第二英语水平一塌糊涂。尽管我高考经过三年的努力考到了北大--因为我落榜了两次，最后一次很意外地考进了北大。我从来没有想过北大是我能够上学的地方，她是我心中一块圣地，觉得永远够不着。但是那一年，第三年考试时我的高考分数超过了北大录取分数线七分，我终于下定决心咬牙切齿填了"北京大学"四个字。我知道一定会有很多人比我分数高，我认为自己是不会被录取的。没想到北大的招生老师非常富有眼光，料到了三十年后我的今天。(掌声)但是实际上我的英语水平很差，在农村既不会听也不会说，只会背语法和单词。我们班分班的时候，五十个同学分成三个班，因为我的英语考试分数不错，就被分到了a班，但是一个月以后，我就被调到了c班。c班叫做"语音语调及听力障碍班"。(笑声)
我也记得自己进北大以前连《红楼梦》都没有读过，所以看到同学们一本一本书在读，我拼命地追赶。结果我在大学差不多读了八百多本书，用了五年时间(掌声)。但是依然没有赶超上我那些同学。我记得我的班长王强是一个书癖，现在他也在新东方，是新东方教育研究院的院长。他每次买书我就跟着他去，当时北大给我们每个月发二十多块钱生活费，王强有个癖好就是把生活费一分为二，一半用来买书，一半用来买饭菜票。买书的钱绝不动用来买饭票。如果他没有饭菜票了就到处借，借不到就到处偷。(笑声)后来我发现他这个习惯很好，我也把我的生活费一份为二，一半用来买书，一半用来买饭菜票，饭票吃完了我就偷他的。(笑声掌声)
毫不夸张地说，我们班的同学当时在北大，真是属于读书最多的班之一。而且我们班当时非常地活跃，光诗人就出了好几个。后来挺有名的一个诗人叫西川，真名叫刘军，就是我们班的。(掌声)我还记得我们班开风气之先，当时是北大的优秀集体，但是有一个晚上大家玩得高兴了，结果跳起了贴面舞，第二个礼拜被教育部通报批评了。那个时候跳舞是必须跳得很正规的，男女生稍微靠近一点就认为违反风纪。所以你们现在比我们当初要更加幸福一点。不光可以跳舞，而且可以手拉手地在校园里面走，我们如果当时男女生手拉手在校园里面走，一定会被扔到未名湖里，所以一般都是晚上十二点以后再在校园里面走。(笑声掌声)
我也记得我们班五十个同学，刚好是二十五个男生二十五个女生，我听到这个比例以后当时就非常的兴奋(笑声)，我觉得大家就应该是一个配一个。没想到女生们都看上了那些外表英俊潇洒、风流倜傥的男生。像我这样外表不怎么样，内心充满丰富感情、未来有巨大发展潜力的，女生一般都看不上。(笑声掌声)
我记得我奋斗了整整两年希望能在成绩上赶上我的同学，但是就像刚才吕植老师说的，你尽管在中学高考可能考得很好，是第一名，但是北大精英人才太多了，你的前后左右可能都是智商极高的同学，也是各个省的状元或者说第二名。所以，在北大追赶同学是一个非常艰苦的过程，尽管我每天几乎都要比别的同学多学一两个小时，但是到了大学二年级结束的时候我的成绩依然排在班内最后几名。非常勤奋又非常郁闷，也没有女生来爱我安慰我。(笑声)这导致的结果是，我在大学三年级的时候得了一场重病，这个病叫做传染性侵润肺结核。当时我就晕了，因为当时我正在读《红楼梦》，正好读到林黛玉因为肺结核吐血而亡的那一章，(笑声)我还以为我的生命从此结束，后来北大医院的医生告诉我现在这种病能够治好，但是需要在医院里住一年。我在医院里住了一年，苦闷了一年，读了很多书，也写了六百多首诗歌，可惜一首诗歌都没有出版过。从此以后我就跟写诗结上了缘，但是我这个人有丰富的情感，但是没有优美的文笔，所以终于没有成为诗人。后来我感到非常的庆幸，因为我发现真正成为诗人的人后来都出事了。我们跟当时还不太出名的诗人海子在一起写过诗。后来他写过一首优美的诗歌，叫做《面朝大海，春暖花开》，我们每一个同学大概都能背。后来当我听说他卧轨自杀的时候，嚎啕大哭了整整一天。从此以后，我放下笔，再也不写诗了。
可以说，北大是改变了我一生的地方，是提升了我自己的地方，使我从一个农村孩子最后走向了世界的地方。毫不夸张地说，没有北大，肯定就没有我的今天。北大给我留下了一连串美好的回忆，大概也留下了一连串的痛苦。正是在美好和痛苦中间，在挫折、挣扎和进步中间，最后找到了自我，开始为自己、为家庭、为社会能做一点事情。
学生生活是非常美好的，有很多美好的回忆。我还记得我们班有一个男生，每天都在女生的宿舍楼下拉小提琴，(笑声)希望能够引起女生的注意，结果后来被女生扔了水瓶子。我还记得我自己为了吸引女生的注意，每到寒假和暑假都帮着女生扛包。(笑声、掌声)后来我发现那个女生有男朋友，(笑声)我就问她为什么还要让我扛包，她说为了让男朋友休息一下(笑声、掌声)。我也记得刚进北大的时候我不会讲普通话，全班同学第一次开班会的时候互相介绍，我站起来自我介绍了一番，结果我们的班长站起来跟我说："俞敏洪你能不能不讲日语?"(笑声)我后来用了整整一年时间，拿着收音机在北大的树林中模仿广播台的播音，但是到今天普通话还依然讲得不好。
人的进步可能是一辈子的事情。在北大是我们生活的一个开始，而不是结束。有很多事情特别让人感动。比如说，我们很有幸见过朱光潜教授。在他最后的日子里，是我们班的同学每天轮流推着轮椅在北大里陪他一起散步。(掌声)每当我推着轮椅的时候，我心中就充满了对朱光潜教授的崇拜，一种神圣感油然而生。所以，我在大学看书最多的领域是美学。因为他写了一本《西方美学史》，是我进大学以后读的第二本书。
为什么是第二本呢?因为第一本是这样来的，我进北大以后走进宿舍，我有个同学已经在宿舍。那个同学躺在床上看一本书，叫做《第三帝国的兴亡》。所以我就问了他一句话，我说："在大学还要读这种书吗?"他把书从眼睛上拿开，看了我一眼，没理我，继续读他的书。这一眼一直留在我心中。我知道进了北大不仅仅是来学专业的，要读大量大量的书。你才能够有资格把自己叫做北大的学生。(掌声)所以我在北大读的第一本书就是《第三帝国的兴亡》，而且读了三遍。后来我就去找这个同学，我说："咱们聊聊《第三帝国的兴亡》"，他说："我已经忘了。"(笑声)
我也记得我的导师李赋宁教授，原来是北大英语系的主任，他给我们上《新概念英语》第四册的时候，每次都把板书写得非常的完整，非常的美丽。永远都是从黑板的左上角写起，等到下课铃响起的时候，刚好写到右下角结束。(掌声)我还记得我的英国文学史的老师罗经国教授，我在北大最后一年由于心情不好，导致考试不及格。我找到罗教授说："这门课如果我不及格就毕不了业。"，罗教授说："我可以给你一个及格的分数，但是请你记住了，未来你一定要做出值得我给你分数的事业。"(掌声)所以，北大老师的宽容、学识、奔放、自由，让我们真正能够成为北大的学生，真正能够得到北大的精神。当我听说许智宏校长对学生唱《隐形的翅膀》的时候，我打开视频，感动得热泪盈眶。因为我觉得北大的校长就应该是这样的。(掌声)
我记得自己在北大的时候有很多的苦闷。一是普通话不好，第二英语水平一塌糊涂。尽管我高考经过三年的努力考到了北大--因为我落榜了两次，最后一次很意外地考进了北大。我从来没有想过北大是我能够上学的地方，她是我心中一块圣地，觉得永远够不着。但是那一年，第三年考试时我的高考分数超过了北大录取分数线七分，我终于下定决心咬牙切齿填了"北京大学"四个字。我知道一定会有很多人比我分数高，我认为自己是不会被录取的。没想到北大的招生老师非常富有眼光，料到了三十年后我的今天。(掌声)但是实际上我的英语水平很差，在农村既不会听也不会说，只会背语法和单词。我们班分班的时候，五十个同学分成三个班，因为我的英语考试分数不错，就被分到了a班，但是一个月以后，我就被调到了c班。c班叫做"语音语调及听力障碍班"。(笑声)
我也记得自己进北大以前连《红楼梦》都没有读过，所以看到同学们一本一本书在读，我拼命地追赶。结果我在大学差不多读了八百多本书，用了五年时间(掌声)。但是依然没有赶超上我那些同学。我记得我的班长王强是一个书癖，现在他也在新东方，是新东方教育研究院的院长。他每次买书我就跟着他去，当时北大给我们每个月发二十多块钱生活费，王强有个癖好就是把生活费一分为二，一半用来买书，一半用来买饭菜票。买书的钱绝不动用来买饭票。如果他没有饭菜票了就到处借，借不到就到处偷。(笑声)后来我发现他这个习惯很好，我也把我的生活费一份为二，一半用来买书，一半用来买饭菜票，饭票吃完了我就偷他的。(笑声掌声)
毫不夸张地说，我们班的同学当时在北大，真是属于读书最多的班之一。而且我们班当时非常地活跃，光诗人就出了好几个。后来挺有名的一个诗人叫西川，真名叫刘军，就是我们班的。(掌声)我还记得我们班开风气之先，当时是北大的优秀集体，但是有一个晚上大家玩得高兴了，结果跳起了贴面舞，第二个礼拜被教育部通报批评了。那个时候跳舞是必须跳得很正规的，男女生稍微靠近一点就认为违反风纪。所以你们现在比我们当初要更加幸福一点。不光可以跳舞，而且可以手拉手地在校园里面走，我们如果当时男女生手拉手在校园里面走，一定会被扔到未名湖里，所以一般都是晚上十二点以后再在校园里面走。(笑声掌声)
我也记得我们班五十个同学，刚好是二十五个男生二十五个女生，我听到这个比例以后当时就非常的兴奋(笑声)，我觉得大家就应该是一个配一个。没想到女生们都看上了那些外表英俊潇洒、风流倜傥的男生。像我这样外表不怎么样，内心充满丰富感情、未来有巨大发展潜力的，女生一般都看不上。(笑声掌声)
我记得我奋斗了整整两年希望能在成绩上赶上我的同学，但是就像刚才吕植老师说的，你尽管在中学高考可能考得很好，是第一名，但是北大精英人才太多了，你的前后左右可能都是智商极高的同学，也是各个省的状元或者说第二名。所以，在北大追赶同学是一个非常艰苦的过程，尽管我每天几乎都要比别的同学多学一两个小时，但是到了大学二年级结束的时候我的成绩依然排在班内最后几名。非常勤奋又非常郁闷，也没有女生来爱我安慰我。(笑声)这导致的结果是，我在大学三年级的时候得了一场重病，这个病叫做传染性侵润肺结核。当时我就晕了，因为当时我正在读《红楼梦》，正好读到林黛玉因为肺结核吐血而亡的那一章，(笑声)我还以为我的生命从此结束，后来北大医院的医生告诉我现在这种病能够治好，但是需要在医院里住一年。我在医院里住了一年，苦闷了一年，读了很多书，也写了六百多首诗歌，可惜一首诗歌都没有出版过。从此以后我就跟写诗结上了缘，但是我这个人有丰富的情感，但是没有优美的文笔，所以终于没有成为诗人。后来我感到非常的庆幸，因为我发现真正成为诗人的人后来都出事了。我们跟当时还不太出名的诗人海子在一起写过诗。后来他写过一首优美的诗歌，叫做《面朝大海，春暖花开》，我们每一个同学大概都能背。后来当我听说他卧轨自杀的时候，嚎啕大哭了整整一天。从此以后，我放下笔，再也不写诗了。
“who will tell your story?”
may 24, 20xx
greetings, class of 20xx.
and so it is here—the week of your commencement. the days of miracle and wonder when your theses are written, classes have ended, and you still have free hbo. and so it may seem strange to be gathered here today, as we pause for this ancient and curious custom called the baccalaureate—but here we are, me in a pulpit and you in pews, dressed for a sermon in which i am to impart the sober wisdom of age to the semi-sober impatience of youth. now, it is a daunting task. especially since over the course of four years i have succeeded in disconcerting people on all sides of the many issues that you will soon be discussing with parents and grandparents over dinner—so in addition to a speech, for handy reference i’ve created a placemat for commencement, filled with useful phrases. such as, “it’s ‘final club,’ without an ‘s.’”
now, i am truly privileged today, for you are an extraordinary group. your 80 countries of origin do not begin to describe you.
you may remember the day when we escaped the rain at your freshman convocation, and you heard from me and a phalanx of elders in dark robes: connect, we said, make harvard part of your narrative. take risks, we told you. don’t always listen to us.
and for four years you have distinguished yourselves with dazzling variety: in what may be harvard’s most divergent dozen, you produced six rhodes scholars, including one who broke the world record for standing on a “swiss” exercise ball, plus six athletes invited to the national football league to play ball, players whose interests range from the ministry to curing infectious diseases.
you were good at long distances: you probed the atmosphere of an exoplanet; researched antibiotic use on a pig farm in denmark; and you created a pilot program that cut shuttle times from the quad by half.
you experienced old traditions: the mumps. a class color, orange. and the time-honored lampoon theft of the crimson president’s chair—this time transporting it across state lines to manhattan’s trump tower, for a staged photo op with a then dark-horse presidential candidate.
you found your way: on campus, through a maze of renovations and swing housing; onstage, doing stand-up comedy on nbc, dancing in bogota, and mounting black magic at the loeb; through the halls of business and finance, running an intercollegiate investment fund; and exposing a privacy issue with facebook’s messenger app.
you won, with style and grace: as you captured the first national trophy for harvard mock trial—by being funnier than yale; and then you shellacked the bulldogs in the game for—yes—the 9th straight year; you produced the first ivy “three-peats” in football and women’s track; and brought home the first ivy crown in women’s rugby—how “fierce and beautiful” was that!
and, of course, all this was powered by huds, since 20xx, powered with ceaseless servings of swai.
and you were just plain good: you wrote prize-winning theses on sea level change, a water crisis in detroit; you engineered a better barbecue smoker—and tested it in a blizzard; you joined the fight to end malaria; and earned the award for best hockey player in the ncaa for strength of character as well as skill; you became well connected—to alzheimer’s patients, to kids in kenya, to homeless youth; and, as the inaugural class of ed school teacher fellows, 20 of you are preparing to help high-need students rise.
and i understand you even rested with ambition, as you tried to “netflix and chill.”
you made it all look easy—all while facing blows to the spirit that have tempered and tested you. you arrived just after a breach of academic trust that, by your senior year, produced the first honor code in harvard’s history, events that raised hard questions for all of us: what is success? what is integrity? to whom, or what, are we accountable?
when a hurricane prompted the first harvard closing in 34 years, you rallied with generosity and goodwill—and did so again when we closed for snowstorm nemo—the fifth largest in boston history. and that was just a warm up, so to speak, for the winter of our misery—the worst in boston history—when you sledded the slopes of widener in a kayak.
and when the bombs went off at the boston marathon, in just your second semester, we considered still larger questions: who are we? what matters most? what do we owe to one another? you told me that you became bostonians that day, bonded to a city beyond harvard square, and to each other during the manhunt and lockdown, when the university closed for an unprecedented third time in 6 months.
who can forget the images—of the mayhem, of the people who ran, not for safety, buttoward the danger, into the chaos? the army veteran, who smelled cordite, and expecting more bombs, saved a college student’s life; the man in the cowboy hat, who ripped away fencing in order to reach the most injured. and who can forget the moment when red sox first baseman david ortiz stood in the center of fenway park and said in eleven words of fellowship and defiance that the fcc chose not to censor, though i will today—“this is our [bleeping] city and nobody[’s] gonna dictate our freedom.”
a few months ago as i was lucky enough to be sitting in a broadway theater, absorbing the final number of the musical hamilton, i thought of you, and that fierce spirit of inclusion and self-determination. i watched as eliza, center stage, sang, “i put myself back in the narrative,” and asked the question in the title of her song, “who lives, who dies, who tells your story?,” the spirited summation of a production that, like you, has broken records. like you, has created a new drama inside a very old one.
harvard, one might say, is a bastion of opportunity and unimaginable good fortune—for all of us, who find a place, with varying degrees of comfort, at the center of its long and successful narrative. and yet the burden is on us—to locate the discomfort, to act on the restless spirit of that legacy. as i thought about speaking to you here today, it occurred to me how much the question in that final song has framed your time here, and how much it will continue to affect your lives, as college graduates, as harvard alumni, as citizens and as leaders. who will tell your story?
you. you will tell your story. that is the point that i want to leave you with today. telling your own story, a fresh story, full of possibility and a new order of things, is the task of every generation, and the task before you. and that task is exactly what your liberal arts education has prepared you to do, in three vital ways:
first, telling your own story means discovering who you are, and not what others think you should be. it means being mindful of others, but deciding for yourself. it’s easy to tell a tale that others define, the one they expect to hear. a moment ago i sketched your harvard history. but what did i leave out? one of harvard’s legendary figures and reverend walton’s predecessor, the reverend peter gomes, used to put it this way: “don’t let anyone finish your sentences for you.” he loved being a paradox, an unpredictable surprise, but always true to himself: a republican in cambridge; a gay baptist preacher; black president of the pilgrim society—afro-saxon, as he sometimes put it. playful. unapologetic. unbounded by others’ expectations. “my anomalies,” he once said, “make it possible to advance the conversation.”
advance the conversation. this is my next point. telling our own stories is not just about us. it is a conversation with others, exploring larger purposes and other worlds and different ways of thinking. your education is not a bubble. think of it as an escape hatch, from what nigerian novelist and former radcliffe fellow chimamanda adichie calls “the danger of a single story.” she has observed, “[h]ow impressionable and vulnerable we are in the face of a story.” not because it may be untrue, but because, in her words, “[stories] are incomplete. they make one story become the only story,” even though “[m]any stories matter.” for four years you have learned the rewards of other stories, and the risk of critical misunderstandings when they go unheard—whether those stories emerge from the office for lgbtq life, or the black lives matter movement, or the international conversation on sexual assault—and perhaps most powerfully, from one another. this is precious knowledge. only by knowing that other stories are possible can we imagine a different future. what will medicine look like in the 21st century? energy? migration? how will cities be designed? the question, as one of you wrote in the crimson, is not “what am [i] going to be,” but “what problem do [i] solve?”
which brings me to my final point: keep revising. every story is only a draft. we re-tell even our oldest sagas—whether of hamilton and the american revolution or of harvard itself. the best education prepares you because it is unsettling, an obstacle course that forces us to question and push and reinvent ourselves, and the world, in a new way. steven spielberg, who will speak to us on thursday, has explained the foundation of his powerful storytelling. he says: “fear is my fuel. i get to the brink of not knowing what to do and that’s when i get my best ideas.”
what is a university but a place where everyone should feel equally sure to be unsure? our best discoveries can start out as mistakes. as herbie hancock told us, his mentor jazz legend miles davis, said there is no playing a “wrong” note, only a surprising one, whose meaning depends on whatever you play next.
in the evolving universe of profiles and hashtags and selfies, it seems no accident that you are the class of snapchat—a platform that took hold when you were freshmen and developed with you, from showing “snaps” to telling and sharing “stories”—stories that vanish every day, to be replaced by new stories, free of “likes” or “followers.” an app that, in the words of a founder, “isn’t about capturing … what[’s] pretty or perfect … but … creates a space to … communicat[e] with the full range of human emotion.”
and so for four years you have been learning to re-tell things: finding your voices, putting yourself in a narrative, whether that was demanding action against climate change, discovering that you love statistics, or creating the powerful message of “i, too, am harvard.” you have seen things re-told. even harvard’s story. last month one of my heroes, congressman john lewis, came to harvard yard to unveil a plaque on wadsworth house, documenting the presence of four enslaved individuals who lived in the households of two harvard presidents. john lewis said, “we try to forget but the voices of generations have been calling us to remember.” titus, venus, bilhah and juba—their lives change our story. after three centuries, they have a voice. they, too, are harvard.
telling a new story isn’t easy. it can take courage, and resolve. it often means leaving the safe path for the unknown, compelled, as john lewis put it, to “disturb the order of things.” and during your years here you have learned to make, as he urged, “good trouble, necessary trouble.”
for years i have been telling students: find what you love. do what matters to you. it might be physics or neuroscience, or filmmaking or finance. but don’t settle for plot b, the safe story, the expected story, until you have tried plot a, even if it might require a miracle. i call this the parking space theory of life. don’t park 10 blocks away from your destination because you are afraid you won’t find a closer space. don’t miss your spot—don’t throw away your shot. go to where you think you want to be. you can always circle back to where you have to be. this can require patience and determination. steven spielberg was, in fact, late to class his first day as a student at california state university, because, as he put it, “i had to park so far away.” he went on to sneak onto movie sets, no matter how many times he got thrown off.
“you shouldn't dream your film,” he has said, “you should make it!”
perhaps this is the new jurassic parking space theory of life—don’t just tell your story, live it. your future is not a . it’s an attitude, a way of being that can create a new narrative no one may have thought possible, let alone probable:
jeremy lin—harvard graduate, asian-american—changed the narrative of professional basketball, still sizzling with “linsanity” when you arrived as freshmen.
think about stephen hawking, who spoke to us last month through a speech synthesizer. he changed the narrative of the universe, a story about what ultimately will become of all our stories—one he has been revising since he was your age, when he was given three years to live.
and you are already changing the story:
think of the astrophysics and mythology concentrator who started a mentorship program for women of color to change the narrative of who enters stem fields, and she wrote a science fiction novel to tell a new research-based story about the galaxy.
or think of the second lieutenant—one of 12 new harvard officers—who will serve her country in the u.s. marines, battling not only the enemy, but persistent gender divides. “how will that change,” she says, “unless we start now?”
and think about the pre-med student who found himself literally running away from campus, fleeing in misery, until he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned back, because he remembered he needed to be at a theater rehearsal where he had stage managing responsibilities. some 20 productions later, he has a theater directing fellowship for next year, and even his parents, as he puts it, now believe “that i am an artist.”
value the ballast of custom, the foundations of knowledge, the weight of expectation. they, too, are important. but don’t be afraid to defy them.
and don’t worry, as you feel the tug of these final days together. i am here to tell you that your harvard story is never done. in 1978, two freshmen watched a screening of the movielove story in the science center. three decades later, they met for the first time. and their wedding story appeared last month in the new york times.
so, congratulations, class of 20xx. don’t forget from whence you came. change the narrative. rewrite the story. there is no one i would rather trust with that task.
go well, 20xx.
哈佛校长福斯特演讲中文
人们也许会说哈佛是天堂，充满了各种难以想象的机遇和好运——确实，我们每个人都有幸在她漫长而成功的历史中占有一席之地。但这也对我们提出了要求：我们有责任走出自己的舒适区，寻找属于我们的挑战，践行哈佛奋斗不息的精神。
在我准备今天演讲的时候， 我想到了音乐剧《汉密尔顿》中最后那首歌里的问题：
“谁来讲述你的故事?”
我想这个问题奠定了你们过去四年大学生活的基调，也将对你们未来作为哈佛毕业生和校友的生活产生深远的影响，无论是作为公民或是领袖——
谁，来讲述你的故事?
是你，你要来讲述你的故事!
这就是今天我要对你们说的话：讲你自己的故事，一个充满了无限可能性和新秩序的崭新故事，这是每一代人的任务，也是现在摆在你面前的任务。你在哈佛所接受的文理博雅教育，将会用以下三种重要方式，帮助你去完成这项任务。
“听别人的建议，做你自己的决定”
讲述你的故事意味着发现你自己是谁——而不是成为别人认为你的谁。你要参考别人的意见，但要做出自己的决定。讲述一个别人定义好的或别人希望听到的故事，那太容易了。
哈佛的传奇人物之一、可敬的彼得·戈麦斯教授曾说：“不要让任何人替你把话说完。”
戈麦斯教授自己经常“自相矛盾”，令人难以捉摸，但永远忠于他自己：他是一位剑桥市的共和党人(注：在哈佛所在的剑桥市，共和党是少数派);他是一位浸礼会的牧师，但同时是个同性恋(注：基督教大多不支持同性恋);他是朝圣者协会的会长，同时又是一位黑人(注：朝圣者协会白人居多)。
他对自己的信仰坚定不移，他不为外人的期望牵挂束缚。他说：“我的不同寻常，让开启新的对话变为可能。”
“开启与他人的对话，倾听他人的故事”
开启新的对话，这是我的下一个重点。讲述我们自己的故事并不意味着只关注我们自己。讲故事是与他人对话，借此探寻更远大的目标、探索其他的世界、探究不同的思维方式——你所受的教育不是一个真空的大泡沫。
如果我们只讲述单一的故事，那将是危险的，就像诺大的场地只有一个逃生口，令所有人变得异常脆弱。单一的故事不一定是假的，但它是不完整的。所有的故事都很重要，不能把单一角度的故事变成唯一的故事。
过去四年，你们感受到了倾听他人故事的益处，也体验到了忽略他人故事所带来的危险。只有意识到，世界上充满了各种各样的故事，我们才能想象一个不一样的未来。21世纪的医疗是什么样?能源是什么样?移民是什么样?城市将如何设计?面对这些问题，你要问的不是“我会成为什么样的人”，而是
“我能解决什么问题”?
“在不安和不确定中，不断修正你的故事”
这也引出了最后一个重点：不断修正。每个故事其实都只是一个草稿，我们连最古老的传说都会不断拿来重提——不管是汉密尔顿将军的故事、美国独立战争的史诗、亦或是哈佛自己的历史。
好的教育之所以好，是因为它让你坐立不安，它强迫你不断重新认识我们自己和我们周遭的世界，并不断去改变。
斯蒂芬·斯皮尔伯格将在毕业典礼上为我们演讲，他就曾经这样解释他创作的基石：“恐惧是我的动力。当我濒临走投无路的时候，那也是我遇见最好的想法的时候。”
大学，不正是这样一个让每一个人都接受挑战、让每一个人都产生不确定性的地方吗?
就这样，大学四年间，你都一直在学习重新讲述你的故事：寻找你自己的声音，将自己放入一个故事中——无论是对气候变化采取反抗行动，发现你对统计学的热衷，还是发起了一项有意义的运动，你亲眼目睹故事不断被重新讲述。
“不要妥协，直奔你的目标”
这些年，我一直在告诉大家：
追随你所爱!
去从事你真正关心的事业吧，无论是物理还是神经科学，无论是金融还是电影制片。如果你想好了目的地，就直接往那里去吧。这就是我的“停车位理论”：不要因为觉得肯定没有停车位了，就把车停在距离目的地10个街区远的地方。直接去你想去的地方，如果车位已满，你总可以再绕回来。
所以在这里，我想祝贺你们，20xx届的哈佛毕业生们。别忘了你们来自何处，不断改变你的故事，不断重写你的故事。我相信这项任务除了你们自己，谁也无法替你们完成!
