‘All Knowledge Is Not Taught in the Same School’: The Class of 2026 Sets Sail
There are some moments in our lives when our joy is so strong and our hearts are so full that we wish we could stop the hands of time or at least slow them down. Seniors from the Class of 2026, I imagine that many of you feel that way tonight. Here, in the company of your closest friends and loving families, we celebrate not only your amazing achievements, but also the brilliant, confident, and compassionate young people you have become. The sheer beauty of this night, as you stand on the shoreline between the past of your youth and a future of growth and change, is almost overwhelming. We wish that we had just a little more time to reflect, to remember, and to hold on. Indeed, it is the ephemeral nature of such moments that makes us long for them.
Throughout the course of our lives, we experience many such moments. Once, in the summer of 1977, when I was nine years old, my grandfather invited my dad and me to go on a sailing trip. We took his boat out from the Ala Wai Yacht Harbor, raised the white canvas sails, and caught the trade winds west toward Wai‘anae. As the sun slipped toward the horizon, we softly glided into the turquoise waters of Pōka‘ī Bay, dropped anchor offshore, and prepared to spend the night. I was absolutely enraptured. Those two men were, and remain, heroes of mine. My grandfather was an Annapolis graduate, a submarine captain in the Pacific, and a lifelong waterman who sailed from Honolulu to the Marquesas and Tahiti. My father was a sailor too, a Navy officer who took a catamaran off Kailua on the weekends and loved nothing more than bodyboarding at Makapu‘u. All they had to do was smile at me, and all was right with the world. Lying next to my father on the back of that sailboat, with the ocean swells beneath me, and a vast sky full of stars above me, I knew three things. The universe was a very big place, I was a very small boy, and I was exactly where I was meant to be.
I had that same, deep sense of belonging when I stood in your shoes at my own Punahou Commencement, forty years ago. I entered Punahou in seventh grade and found not just a school, but a home. My teachers, coaches, and friends created a wonderful place for me to grow, stretch and learn. There were some heartbreaks along the way, but even then, I knew how fortunate I was to go to Punahou, and my gratitude has only grown over time. Amid the emotions of graduation, I knew that I would soon cross an ocean, in both literal and metaphorical terms. I hoped for fair, following seas, but I wondered too about the windless doldrums and the strong storms I would inevitably encounter. As I set sail, how would I navigate this new stage of my own life?
Seniors, whether your voyages will take you to a new home on O‘ahu or halfway around the world, I hope to offer you a few insights that might inspire confidence and enthusiasm for what lies ahead. I cannot think of another group better prepared for the challenges of college, the excitement of self-discovery, and the responsibilities of adulthood. So, I’ll offer you just a few thoughts to help guide you along the way.
I’ll start with one of the Hawaiian ‘ōlelo no‘eau preserved by Mary Kawena Pukui, the former Punahou teacher and distinguished scholar of Hawaiian culture for whom our new Academy learning commons is named. “ ‘A‘ohe pau ka ‘ike i ka hālau ho‘okāhi. All knowledge is not taught in the same school.” At one level, this is obvious to us all. There are 424 of you graduating tonight, and together you will attend scores of different colleges and universities across the United States and in foreign countries as well. At a deeper level, however, the proverb reminds us that one can learn from many sources, and that your task is to find the right path for you, not for anyone else.
This means that you can and should give yourself the freedom to explore and learn widely across the full range of human understanding. Some of you may have already mapped out your future and expect to follow a straight line toward careers as cardiologists, architects, or entrepreneurs. If so, that’s great. But I expect that most of you remain undecided, not quite sure what you want to do with your professional lives. At the age of 18, that’s not only perfectly fine, it’s also a remarkably mature place to be.
College represents a priceless opportunity, free from the pressures of a full-time job or a mortgage, to explore fields you have never encountered or considered, to study abroad, to try out a new internship, and to discover an interest or talent you didn’t even know you possessed. So be adventurous and let your curiosity lead you. As the forces of technology and global interconnections transform both higher education and the workplace, your creativity, empathy, and capacity to learn, relearn and adapt to new circumstances will also become even more important. On a more profound level, college should be about far more than opening professional doors. As the Columbia University professor Mark Lilla put it, beyond trying to get what they want, the best college students seek to discover “just what it is that’s worth wanting.” That means engaging in serious reflection not just about what you are good at but what you truly value, what matters to you, and what purposes you might be willing to commit yourself to. In the words of Punahou’s mission statement, discovering your “kuleana to Hawai‘i and the world” means taking seriously the question of how you can best align your talents, the work that brings you joy, and the great needs of your community. That, I hope, is what your voyage will really be about.
The second insight comes from the poetry of John Donne, the 17th-century English scholar and cleric. As he famously wrote, “No man is an island, Entire of itself; Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the main.” The voyages that you are starting cannot be taken alone. While you will need to navigate by your own lights, you should seek out the community that will sustain and support you. In my prior career as a college professor, dean, and vice president, it became very clear to me that the students who really thrive all have at least one sustained activity outside the classroom where they build friendships and find belonging.
Yes, you will be busy. Yes, the academic demands can be intense. But you have already experienced the value of these human ties here at Punahou through your engagement in athletics, music, theatre, dance, and the enormous range of clubs and groups you belong to. When you face real challenges, you will need others, and they will need you. If you can join friends in service to those who are less fortunate, the experience will be even more meaningful. Nothing builds solidarity like working shoulder to shoulder for a cause that truly matters. Don’t miss that opportunity.
Finally, remember that this place you are leaving will never leave you. That wisdom isn’t my own, it belongs to Ke‘alohi Reppun ’99, the director of Kuaihelani, our center for ‘ike Hawai‘i. The beautiful mele composed by kumu Emma McGuire ’93 that our faculty and staff chanted at the beginning of tonight’s ceremony captures that theme perfectly. Ka Punahou, Pu‘uomānoa, and the shade of the hala tree all form part of the geography of your memory, the lei that now adorns you as you depart. That lei will never wither or break but will instead be with you everywhere you go for the rest of your days.
At my own graduation, on that night in 1986, I struggled with the idea that I was leaving a community I loved, and that I would be forever separated from it. I should not have worried so much! My life did take me oceans away from home, and while I visited often, I didn’t live in Hawai‘i again for 39 years. But the confidence, strength, and values I gained at Punahou were always there with me. Because I grew up here, I could go anywhere. Because I had enduring friendships, I could make many new ones. Because of the love of my family, I could eventually start one of my own. Graduates, thank your parents, family, teachers, and friends. What they have given you is truly priceless. As you set sail tonight, I pray that you will go out to love and serve a world that so clearly needs what you can give.
Thank you to all who made this joyful night possible. Mahalo to our Trustees, our Academy Principal Gustavo Carrera, Junior School Principal Todd Chow-Hoy, Chaplain George Scott, and your class Deans, Wendi Kamiya and Jonah Ka‘akua ’97, for their compassionate guidance and support of you all. Mahalo to our brilliant choral director, Lauren Kaneolani Chang ’01 Williams, our wonderful parent volunteers, and to Lynn Kimura ’81 Kunishige, the amazing architect of this ceremony and a friend to so many of you.
To the Class of 2026, congratulations! We are in awe of what you have done, and even more inspired by your heart and your character. You have made Punahou a better place, and the best is yet to come. We are very proud of you, we will miss you, and we hope you come back often. Aloha, and God bless you all.