這也許不是一個演講者淚流滿面的演講，但是這是一個讓我熱淚盈眶的演講，當我聽到哈佛校長Drew Gilpin Faust對2016年的畢業(yè)生說：

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.

當你告訴別人你的故事，是為了發(fā)現(xiàn)真正的你，而不是那個別人認為你應該成為的那個你！聽別人的建議，但是做你自己的決定！

我今天見到的人都是希望從別人身上得到信息、咨詢、建議、指導、資源的人。我常常和我的學生以及咨詢我的人說，我們有時候知道答案，只是我們希望從別人身上聽到這個答案。我們有時候具備自己解決問題的能力，但是我們太注重從外界獲得力量和解決問題的方案，而忽略了去開發(fā)自己的能力。

今天我看到的同齡人也好，比我年輕的人也罷，他們希望你能幫他們做決定，希望父母、老師／機構(gòu)能給他們意見：

“老師，你覺得我這學期選什么課比較合適？”

“老師，你覺得我應該去選自己喜歡的專業(yè)還是好找工作的專業(yè)？”

“老師，您覺得我的孩子是去國際學校還是去公立學校？” 

“老師，你覺得我是請私教還是去健身房自己練？

“老師，你覺得我是現(xiàn)在生孩子，還是創(chuàng)業(yè)穩(wěn)定后再生孩子？”

“老師，你覺得我是吃包子，還是吃餃子？吃幾個？”

在接觸了越來越多的大學生、職場人士后，我開始反思為什么我們的教育生產(chǎn)了這么多“高學歷的低能兒”？為什么我們沒有自己獨立思考的能力？為什么我們要把自己的問題拋給別人解決？

中國為什么那么多迷茫的人，為什么那么多人不知道自己要做什么？喜歡什么？是父母沒有培養(yǎng)我們思考的能力？還是學校剝奪了我們在課堂上積極發(fā)言的權(quán)利？

是我們的父母幫我們做了一切取代了我們的自我探索？還是學校不允許我們挑戰(zhàn)權(quán)威去創(chuàng)新、去發(fā)散思維，去掌握個人的話語權(quán)？

是社會的趨同價值觀讓我們隨波逐流？還是經(jīng)濟發(fā)展沒有到達決定上層建筑的地步？

我們沒有被培養(yǎng)會生活、思考的能力，我們沒有被培養(yǎng)具備說話、表達想法的能力、我們沒有被培養(yǎng)去獨立探索自我和世界的機會，至于誰造成了這一切，有外界的大環(huán)境，也有我們的原生態(tài)家庭，更多的是我們自己對自我發(fā)展的限制。

“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.”

哈佛的傳奇人物之一、可敬的彼得·戈麥斯教授曾說：“不要讓任何人替你說完你的話。”他常常自相矛盾，令人琢磨不透，但他永遠忠于自己：他是劍橋市的一個共和黨人；他是一個同性戀，也是一位浸信會的牧師；他是一個黑人，也是朝圣者協(xié)會的負責人。他不想滿足任何人的期待，為此感到束縛，同時他對自己的信仰深信不疑。他說：“正是因為我的不同尋常，才讓我可以和不同的人對話”。

而我今天看到的人很多人不知道自己是誰，為什么在做自己現(xiàn)在在做的事情，他們對自己的工作沒有思考，只是一味的在執(zhí)行別人的想法和命令，更談不上對自己的追求深信不疑、堅定不移。每個人都好想成為別人，或者別人眼中的自己。對生活沒有信念和理想，我們害怕自己和別人不一樣，我們仰望權(quán)利和財富，我們追逐成功人士的腳步即使我們可能并不認同他們的觀點。

is not “What am I going to be,” but “What problem do I solve?”

不是我要成為什么樣的人，而是我能解決什么樣的問題？

我們的文化讓我們看重個人成功，而不是幫助別人或者幫助社會解決問題。今天很多的人都是在積極的追求個人意義層面上的成功，如果他們的成功不能幫助更多人的生活有所改變和進步，那他們的成功也只是個人意義的成功對其他人來說毫無意義。

很多中國的學生在申請國外的大學的時候提交的材料都在證明自己多么的牛逼，而不是我為別人帶來了什么。這也是中國的學生申請者多錄取率低的一個原因之一，因為在一個共榮的社會，更多的人看重的是你能為別人帶來什么，你能改變什么，至于你個人的成功，根本沒人關(guān)心。

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.

最好的教育的所在就是它的不確定性、不穩(wěn)定性，它讓你不安，它強迫我們不斷的質(zhì)疑我們自己、促使我們從不一個不同的角度去重新的看待這個世界。

而我們都在追求安穩(wěn)的生活，希望一成不變的穩(wěn)定來保障我們的生活。我們對生活的認知，對周遭世界的看法因為我們一直呆在一個點而變得更加的狹隘和自我，我們變得不再積極、不再敏感、不再上進。

前幾天我見了一個35歲的職場人士，她躲閃的眼神告訴我她的內(nèi)心極其不自信。她在一個職位上工作了8年，至今不舍得離開就是因為穩(wěn)定，安逸。但是這種安逸讓她害怕，她不知道是為什么。她覺得自己的世界越來越小，信息獲取的渠道越來越窄，現(xiàn)在出來見人很不自信。

而我知道，她只是一個龐大的群體里面的一個。

Find what you love. Do what matters to you. It might be physics or neuroscience, or filmmaking or finance. Go to where you think you want to be. Jeremy Lin—Harvard graduate, Asian-American—changed the narrative of professional basketball, still sizzling with “Linsanity” when you arrived as freshmen.

找到你熱愛的事兒，去做你真正在乎的事兒吧，不管是物理還是神經(jīng)科學，不管是電影制作還是金融。去你想要抵達的地方。林書豪——哈佛的畢業(yè)生，美籍亞裔，他重新書寫了職業(yè)籃球的歷史，被華盛頓郵報稱為“林來瘋”。

我的學生和我說：“大學四年和研究生三年，我花了很多時間在我的專業(yè)上，等到今天我畢業(yè)的時候我發(fā)現(xiàn)我不喜歡自己的專業(yè)，如果繼續(xù)在這個行業(yè)投入下去，我很擔心我越走越遠，如果回頭，我真的不知道自己能做什么。我也不知道自己喜歡什么。”

“任何時候都不晚，關(guān)鍵是你想不想這么去做，任何時候都不要害怕從頭開始無論你擁有多少放不下的東西，如果什么都沒有，更沒什么可怕的?！?/span>Elon Musk說：“我實在不明白今天的年輕人都在害怕什么，他們沒有家庭、沒有孩子要養(yǎng)、在保證生存的前提下，他們都應該去做自己想做的事情?！?/p>

我想說我們最迷茫的不是沒有得到，而是想要的太多了。如果把只是活著作為一個起點，有時候你會發(fā)現(xiàn)你會輕松許多。

Don’t forget from whence you came. Change the narrative. Rewrite the story. There is no one I would rather trust with that task.

不要忘記你來自哪里，不斷的改寫、不斷的重新書寫你的故事，因為沒有一個人能替代你完成這個任務！

上個月我面試了一個女孩在北京上大學，自我介紹的時候說：我來自北京...我說你沒有北京口音啊。她臉色很難看，等了一會兒吞吞吐吐的說：我是河南的。我在美國上學的時候認識一個山東哥們，非要說自己是“波士頓來的！” 我說：聽口音是青島的吧。他說：我現(xiàn)在是美國國籍。經(jīng)常有人告訴我他們不是中國人，他們是英國人、美國人，其實就是出去留了幾年學。

我在想是什么讓我們不敢承認我們是哪里人？對！這是一個看標簽的社會，我們積極地逃離了家鄉(xiāng)實現(xiàn)理想，到頭來難道是為了成為別人而忘記自己是誰？甚至是更不想和自己的同鄉(xiāng)扯上任何關(guān)系。這就是我看到的今天的中國人，他們優(yōu)秀、他們努力、他們很成功，但是他們的驅(qū)動力是讓自己過得更好（沒錯）從而把別人比下去，占有更多的市場資源和機會，實現(xiàn)自我成功，成為萬眾矚目被人仰慕的人，繼而徹底脫離自己原來的階級，同時還會鄙視原來的階級出來的人。

5月中旬在某大學的某活動的開幕式上面，一個嘉賓提到了“永遠不要忘記你的根在哪里” ！

即使我們來自一個小地方、即使我們來自一個被外面的人認為臟亂差有很多問題的中國，我們有沒有為自己的身份變的更好去努力，而不是假裝是一個美籍華人、假裝不會說中文（其實滿口鄉(xiāng)音）去掩蓋你最有價值的identity.

一個連自己身份都無法接受的人，他還能接受什么呢！

附哈佛校長Drew Gilpin Faust演講全文：

As delivered.

Greetings alumni, graduates, families, and friends. It is such a pleasure to see you all here and offer congratulations on this day of celebration. I am in the unenviable role of warm-up act for one of the greatest storytellers of our—or any other—time. Nevertheless, my assignment is to offer a few reflections on this magnificent institution at this moment in its history. And what a moment it is.

From comments of astonished pundits on television, in print, and online, to conversations with bewildered friends and colleagues, the question seems unavoidable—and mesmerizing: What is going on? What is happening to the world? The tumultuous state of American politics, spotlighted in this contentious presidential contest; the political challenges around the globe from Brazil to Brexit; the Middle East in flames; a refugee crisis in Europe; terrorists exploiting new media to perform chilling acts of brutality and murder; climate-related famine in Africa and fires in Canada. It is as if we are being visited by the horsemen of the apocalypse with war, famine, natural disaster—and, yes, even pestilence—as Zika spreads, aided by political controversy and paralysis.

As extraordinary as these times may seem to us, Harvard reminds us we have been here before. It is in some ways reassuring at this 365th Commencement to recall all that Harvard has endured over centuries. A number of these festival rites took place under clouds of war; others in times of financial crisis and despair; still others in face of epidemics—from smallpox in the 17th century to the devastating flu of 1918 to the H1N1 virus just a few years ago. Harvard has not just survived these challenges, but has helped to confront them. We sing in our alma mater about “Calm rising through change and through storm.” What does that mean for today’s crises? Where do universities fit in this threatening mix? What can we do? What should we do? What must we do?

We are gathered today in Tercentenary Theatre, with Widener Library and Memorial Church standing before and behind us, enduring symbols of Harvard’s larger identity and purposes, testaments to what universities do and believe at a time when we have never needed them more. And much is at stake, for us and for the world.

We look at Widener Library and see a great edifice, a backdrop of giant columns where photos are taken and 27 steps are worn down ever so slightly by the feet of a century of students and scholars. We also see a repository of learning, with 57 miles of shelving at the heart of a library system of some 17 million books, a monument to reason and knowledge, to the collection and preservation of the widest possible range of beliefs, and experiences, and facts that fuel free inquiry and our constantly evolving understanding. A vehicle for Veritas—for exploring the path to truth wherever it may lead. A tribute to the belief that knowledge matters, that facts matter—in the present moment, as a basis for the informed decisions of individuals, societies, and nations; and for the future, as the basis for new insight. As James Madison wrote in 1822, a people who mean to be their own Governors, must arm themselves with the power that knowledge gives. Or as early 20th-century civil rights activist Nannie Helen Burroughs put it, “education is democracy’s life insurance.”

Evidence, reason, facts, logic, an understanding of history and of science. The ability to know, as former dean Jeremy Knowles used to put it, “when someone is talking rot.” These are the bedrock of education, and of an informed citizenry with the capacity to lead, to explore, to invent. Yet this commitment to reason and truth—to their pursuit and preeminence—seems increasingly a minority viewpoint. In a recent column, George Will deplored the nation’s evident abandonment of what he called “the reality principle—the need to assess and adapt to facts.” Universities are defined by this principle. We produce a ready stream of evidence and insights, many with potential to create a better world. 

So what are our obligations when we see our fundamental purpose under siege, our reason for being discounted and undermined? First we must maintain an unwavering dedication to rigorous assessment and debate within our own walls. We must be unassailable in our insistence that ideas most fully thrive and grow when they are open to challenge. Truth cannot simply be claimed; it must be established—even when that process is uncomfortable. Universities do not just store facts; they teach us how to evaluate, test, challenge, and refine them. Only if we ourselves model a commitment to fact over what Stephen Colbert so memorably labeled as “truthiness” (and he also actually sometimes called it “Veritasiness!”), only then can we credibly call for adherence to such standards in public life and a wider world.

We must model this commitment for our students, as we educate them to embrace these principles—in their work here and in the lives they will lead as citizens and leaders of national and international life. We must support and sustain fact and reason beyond our walls as well. And we must do still more.

Facing Widener stands Memorial Church. Built in the aftermath of World War I, it was intended to honor and memorialize responsibility—not just the quality of men and women’s thoughts, but, as my predecessor James Conant put it, “the radiance of their deeds.” The more than 1,100 Harvard and Radcliffe students, faculty, and alumni whose names are engraved on its walls gave their lives in service to their country, because they believed that some things had greater value than their own individual lives. I juxtapose Widener Library and Memorial Church today because we need the qualities that both represent, because I believe that reason and knowledge must be inflected with values, and that those of us who are privileged to be part of this community of learning bear consequent responsibilities.

Now, it may surprise some of you to hear that this is not an uncontroversial assertion. For this morning’s ceremony I wore the traditional Harvard presidential robe—styled on the garment of a Puritan minister and reminding us of Harvard’s origins. Values were an integral part of the defining purpose of the early years of Harvard College, created to educate a learned ministry. Up until the end of the 1800s, most American college presidents taught a course on moral philosophy to graduating students. But with the rise of the research university in the late nineteenth and the early twentieth century, moral and ethical purposes came to be seen as at odds with the scientific thinking transforming higher education.

But in today’s world, I believe it is dangerous for universities not to fully acknowledge and embrace their responsibilities to values and to service as well as to reason and discovery. There is no value-free science. There is no algorithm that writes itself. The questions we choose to ask and the research we decide to support; the standards of integrity we expect of our colleagues and students; the community we build and the model we offer: All of this is central to who we are.

We can see these values clearly in the choices and passions of our faculty and students: in the motto of Harvard Business School, which you heard earlier this morning uttered by the dean, the commitment to make “a difference in the world.” Most of the University would readily embrace this sentiment. In the enthusiasm of students and faculty, we see it as well. From across the University—graduate, professional, and hundreds of undergraduates—we see a remarkable enthusiasm, for example for the field of global health because it unites the power of knowledge and science with a deeply-felt desire to do good in the world—to lead lives of meaning and purpose. This spirit animates not just global health but so much of all we do. Harvard is and must be a community of idealists. And today we send thousands of you—doctors, lawyers, teachers, artists, philosophers, business people, epidemiologists, public servants—into the world.

For our youngest students, those just beginning to shape their adult lives, lives who today received what the ritual language of Commencement calls “their first degree,” for them these questions of values and responsibility take on particular salience. Harvard College is a residential community of learning with a goal, in the words of its dean, of personal and social as well as intellectual transformation. Bringing students of diverse backgrounds to live together and learn from one another enacts that commitment, as we work to transform diversity into belonging. In a world divided by difference, we at Harvard strive to be united by it. In myriad ways we challenge our students to be individuals of character as well as of learning. We seek to establish standards for the College community that advance our institutional purposes and values. We seek to educate people, not just minds; our highest aspiration is not just knowledge, but wisdom. 

Reason and responsibility. Widener and Memorial Church. Harvard and the world. We have a very special obligation in a very difficult time. May we and the students we send forth today embrace it.