Good morning!

The academic year is punctuated by ceremonies, and this is one of my favorites. In May we gather for Commencement, which celebrates the achievements of our students and marks their transition to life after Claremont McKenna. Then we disperse for the summer. Students travel, faculty immerse themselves in research, and staff accomplish projects all over campus. Each of us is grateful for the change of pace and season. And yet there is something missing, something that impels us toward this moment, when the days gradually shorten and summer transitions into fall—however hot it may still be.

As students, as teachers, and as staff devoted to providing an environment in which teaching and learning can take place, our avocations—that which we are called to do—require our convocation—our being called together. None of us can be most truly who we are, individually, without all of us being here, collectively. Which is why this time of year feels so good—we are once again able to be our best selves.

Convocation emphasizes and celebrates the fact that we are an academic community. We wear our ceremonial regalia to signify that our distinctively academic work, the fundamental work of the college, which unites us all, has officially commenced. We welcome our newly arrived students, faculty, and staff to our community, and to our shared endeavor in the service of our educational mission.

I want to spend a little more time on the concept of a calling.

I still remember my first week of college, when a member of the faculty addressed my class during orientation. He urged each of us—fresh-faced 18-year-olds embarking on a liberal arts education—to find a way to make our avocation into our vocation. That distinction was new to me, but he helped us understand it. A vocation is a job or profession. An avocation is a calling. Your vocation is what you do. Your avocation is who you are. The professor encouraged us to forge deep connections between our identity—our sense of self—and our work. He was a living example of exactly that. He was a poet at heart, and he had managed to find employment teaching and writing poetry. His vocation and his avocation were in sync.

Inspired by the professor’s address, I enrolled in his class that semester, “The Art of Poetry.” One thing I learned is that I am no poet. That professor’s calling is not my calling. But the point he made at orientation resonated and has stuck with me all these years. We will all spend a significant portion of our time on earth working. We will work to pay the bills, to make a comfortable living, to provide for our families. Work will consume the majority of our waking hours. And our lives will be more fulfilling if the work we do is meaningful, in virtue of being connected to things that matter to us—to our passions, our dreams, and our values.

The wisdom dispensed by my poetry professor is directly aligned with the founding vision of Claremont McKenna College. The people who created this college 80 years ago believed, rightly, that professional success and leadership are enhanced by liberal arts education, and that liberally educated people feel called to lead in meaningful ways. A good liberal arts education is both a journey of self-discovery—gradually revealing and refining your passions and values—and versatile professional preparation—gradually instilling the habits of mind and character conducive to achievement in any arena over the course of a long career.

If a calling is so important, you might be wondering, where can I get one? Do they fall from the sky? Does Student Affairs hand them out at room draw? We all get spam calls, which you should ignore. And calls from our family, which you should emphatically not ignore, but those aren’t the sort of call I’m talking about. Seriously, where does a calling come from?

For many people, the concept of a calling is religious and connotes being summoned to contribute to a divine purpose or plan. But there are secular versions of the concept too. When John F Kennedy exhorted Americans to “ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country,” he was calling his fellow citizens to commit themselves to public service. In doing so, Kennedy was performing one of the important tasks of leadership, which is to help others understand what needs to be done and inspire them to join the effort. But callings need not come from religious or political leaders. Often, we find them in the everyday examples set by people whose character and work we admire—our parents, our teachers, our colleagues.

Whichever sources speak to us, a calling can be effective only if it resonates with and is amplified by our own inner voice. We must ultimately rely upon our own conscience to determine what we are meant to do and how we are meant to do it. The question then becomes: when conscience calls, how will we respond?

For starters, to be responsive, we have to be able to hear. If we are distracted, or busy, or firmly fixated on a particular path, our inner voice may call out in vain. It is like wearing spiritual air pods that prevent us from perceiving the most important signal. We must be receptive to the call of conscience and in the habit of reflecting upon the message it delivers. Then we are in a position to translate reflection into action.

Sometimes, things go exactly as planned. And plenty of times they don’t. Either way, we learn from experience, incorporate it in our ever-evolving understanding of ourselves, revise our aspirations accordingly, and repeat the process.

Thinking back again to my own college experience, I remember encountering philosophy for the first time and subsequently realizing that I might in fact be a philosopher. I couldn’t have discovered that about myself without a liberal arts education that gave me the opportunity and the encouragement to pursue subjects with which I was thoroughly unfamiliar. I signed up for “Introduction to Moral and Political Philosophy” because the description sounded interesting. The course introduced me to great thinkers and ideas, engaged me in spirited debates, and made me a better writer in the bargain. What’s not to like? So, the next semester I took “Introduction to Metaphysics and Epistemology.” With those two courses under my belt, it began to dawn on me that what philosophers do is ask fundamental questions, search for first principles, construct and evaluate arguments, write and interpret complex texts—all in pursuit of the truth. And then I realized, “that’s what I like to do!” Holy cow—I think I’m a philosopher!

Prior to college, just a year earlier, I didn’t even know that “philosopher” was a thing one could be. I also didn’t know you could get paid to do it. My professors showed me that philosophy could be a vocation as well as an avocation. And by the time I graduated from college, I felt called to see if I could emulate them and become a philosophy professor myself.

But finding a calling—as I suggested a moment ago—is rarely a simple and straightforward thing. And it wasn’t for me. I did head directly from college to graduate school but was surprised when I got there to discover that my academic battery was drained. For the first time in my life, I didn’t enjoy my studies. My inner voice told me I needed to do something else. And my liberal arts education came to the rescue, enabling me to get a job in power plant development and finance. You heard that correctly. It’s not much like philosophy. And not something I ever imagined I would do. But it proved to be a lot of fun. I learned an enormous amount, worked with smart people, and found that my liberal arts education had prepared me well to succeed in that world. I got to live and work in London and had the opportunity to make a career in the energy business. But a funny thing happened along the way. I began to miss reading, writing, and philosophical questions. I started lingering in front of bookstore windows. When I nervously confessed to my boss that I was considering quitting my job to get a PhD in philosophy, he wisely told me, “Will, everyone should buy one powerplant in his life, but after that they’re all the same.” He reinforced my own sense of who I am and gave me the confidence to pursue my calling.

At that point in time—25 years old—I envisioned my future self as a scholar, a teacher, and hopefully a professor like the ones who inspired me. I poured myself wholeheartedly into that dream. The prospect of one day becoming an administrator never crossed my mind. Administration is not exactly a calling. No elementary school child has ever said, “I want to be an administrator when I grow up.” And I don’t identify with the term. I am an educator. And it was mentors in the course of my professorial career who showed me that academic leadership could indeed be my educational calling.

Enough about me already. I’ve told you a little bit about my story because it is the one I know best. But it is just one example among many. Every CMC faculty member, staff member, and alum has a story. Each story is unique. But in all of them, people discover their passions, develop their talents, and seize their opportunities. Each story has highlights, disappointments, and surprising plot twists. The paths are winding. Finding a series of jobs that are responsive to and incrementally shape your sense of self is a lifelong project, which makes the journey interesting, the challenges worthwhile, and the successes fulfilling.

It’s the first day of school here at Claremont McKenna. I love the first day of school, with its sense of purpose and possibility. I encourage our students, as you make your way through college and beyond, to ask yourselves not only “what kind of job do I want?” but also “who am I?” and “what truly matters to me?” You have a precious opportunity here to explore those questions, with each other and with your teachers, in classrooms, dorms, and dining halls, through coursework, research projects, and internships. Approach it all with an open, curious mind. Be attentive, be discerning, be adventurous. You will find your calling at the intersection of your dispositions—what you like to do—your talents—what you are good at doing—your education—what you are prepared to do—and your values—what it matters to you to do. May you use your time at CMC to discover and develop all of those aspects of yourself, and to link them up to the educational and professional paths you choose.

I will conclude where I began. We are called together in the service of our shared mission. Claremont McKenna exists to prepare students for thoughtful and productive lives and responsible leadership in business, government, and the professions. That is a noble institutional calling, to which every single person on campus contributes. Thank you all for joining me in that work. What we do here matters and doing it well should bring you joy and well-deserved satisfaction. 

In my official capacity as the president of Claremont McKenna College, I hereby declare the 2026-2027 academic year underway. Let’s make it a great one.