2014 Commencement Speech – High School Principal Eric Bassin
Dr. Kay, Members of the Board of Trustees, Faculty, Honored Guests, and most importantly,
Members of the Class of 2014, boker tov!
You know I love speaking about the value of “kehilah,” so it might surprise you to know that today
I’m NOT going to speak about “kehilah” today, but rather about the very opposite concept: not the
value of the group, but the value of the individual. You see, I have no doubt that you understand by
now the strength of community; last night’s courtyard celebration as a class was certainly a testament
to that. But do you understand the power of the individual? Do you understand just how much you
matter?
The fact of the matter is that while you will always have a place in this kehilah, and while I do hope
you will come back and visit, at about 12:15 p.m. today, you will literally and figuratively begin
walking away from this kehilah. You will no longer hear senior drashot, enjoy Friday breakfasts for
lunch, play soccer at senior schmoozes, or complain about parking in the student lot. You will have
no more high school proms, mincha attendance requirements, class trips, or pranks on your High
School principal. After this ceremony, you will remove your cap and gown, and emerge as 75 distinct
individuals, full of pride, hope, and promise.
You certainly worked hard to achieve what you did, but you were surrounded by others—friends,
teachers, parents, relatives, and sometimes even strangers—whose words or actions had a significant
impact on you. Now it’s time to think seriously not just about what you will do for you, but what
you will do for others.
Several weeks ago, Steve Hartman from CBS News was our Friday special program speaker. As you
know, each week, Mr. Hartman airs a story about a rather ordinary person who has an extraordinary
story. Now called, “On the Road with Steve Hartman,” the segment used to be called, “Everybody
Has a Story.” Mr. Hartman would throw a dart at a map, go to that city, take that city’s now-oldfashioned enormous phone books, randomly turn to a page, and point to a name on the page. He
would track that person down, and share that person’s “story” with the world. When Mr. Hartman
visited us, one of you asked him how it can be that “everyone” has a story worth telling. He
answered the question by telling us about Suzie Izatt. Mr. Hartman had selected her name at random
from a phone book from Westmoreland County, Pennsylvania. When he approached her, she told
him that there was no point in interviewing her because she had no story to share. “Sometimes I
think I’m boring,” Suzie Izatt said. “Sometimes I think I’m a nobody. What could anybody be
interested in in my life?” she asked.
Suzie Izatt thought of herself as just an ordinary person. It’s easy to get caught up in that type of
thinking, especially given the world in which you live today. You see, something happened while you
were in high school that most people didn’t seem to notice much. It happened during your
sophomore year. There were probably several things you did notice that year—we marked the tenth
anniversary of 9/11, Apple founder Steve Jobs died of cancer, the Occupy Wall Street movement
began, the final US combat troops were removed from Iraq, and George Zimmerman shot Trayvon
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Martin. But something rather significant happened on October 31, 2011 that you might have missed:
the world population hit 7 billion people. In 1970, when your parents were growing up, the world
population was roughly half of that. So the bad news is, you’re only one of 7 billion people. To give
you a sense of how big that is, 7 billion seconds ago, George Washington had just been inaugurated
president.
So on the one hand, you are but one of 7 billion people on this earth, each with their own stories,
achievements, backgrounds, and struggles. Abraham himself had questioned his power as an
individual, telling God that he was “but dust and ashes.” Yet the Talmud reminds us that we are all
unique and precious individuals, created in the image of God, linked to others through common
ancestry. To kill one is to kill an entire world; to save one is to save a world. The Talmud tells us that
“every single person must say, ‘The world was created for me.’” Living a successful life is knowing
when to feel the humility of being just 1 of 7 billion people, and when to remember the power that
you, as an individual, can have on others. Ordinary people can have extraordinary impacts.
Think of some of the Friday special program speakers we’ve had. Not just Steve Hartman, but
people like Stacy Allison, who through her sheer determination became the first American woman
to summit Mt. Everest. Or Marc Elliot, who used his struggle with Tourette’s Syndrome to challenge
others to create a culture of tolerance for all. Or Sarah Reinertsen, who had her leg amputated at 7
years old but went on to compete in the Ironman World Championships and scaled the Great Wall
of China on The Amazing Race. Perhaps you remember Jeffrey Deskovic, wrongfully imprisoned at
the age of 16 for a rape and murder he didn’t commit, exonerated 16 years later, who works now to
reform the justice system. Or Jacy Good, who miraculously survived a crash caused by a distracted
driver in 2008 that claimed the lives of both of her parents, who now works tirelessly to educate
others about the dangers of distracted driving and to advocate for legislation to save lives. Or Jessica
Hendricks, who, at 24 years old, witnessed the effects of human trafficking in Cambodia and
decided to start The Brave Collection, an organization which supports local Cambodian artisans and
combats human trafficking. These speakers, and the many more that you’ve heard over the years,
were not a random assortment of interesting stories. They were designed to provide you with
example after example of the power and impact that an individual can have. Something else
happened during your sophomore year: we introduced you by video to Joe Opotowski, who told
you that even as a teenager, you have enormous potential to influence others around you. Two
months after you heard his message, you were sitting in congressional offices in our nation’s capital
advocating for changes to federal laws in order to support the poverty-stricken and the homeless,
two of our most vulnerable segments of our society. And as you heard from Congresswoman Nita
Lowey this past Tuesday, your advocacy certainly made an impact.
But you don’t have to look very far to see the impact you can have. You are, already, rather
extraordinary people. In your recent WISE projects and senior internships, you worked with seeing
eye dogs, fought pediatric cancer, interned at Westchester Broadway Theater, taught young children
in the Bronx, produced your own tv episode, studied occupational therapy, worked at the NYU
Behavioral Lab, reinvented and reconceptualized the business card for the digital age, worked in a
DA’s office, created extraordinary works of art, and worked alongside an OGBYN, just to name a
few examples. In years past, you were the first class to have Sci-Tech and Shabbaton chairs, and
your class ran more student-led electives than any other, including creative writing, digital
photography, expressive art, film production, Hebrew magazine, karate, rocketry, cooking, and
current events. You started new clubs like “Say Yallah to Animal Cruelty,” Midnight Run, and
Disaster Relief. You showed leadership and a love of learning, such as when you invited the author
of one of your summer reading books to be a special Friday program speaker. When I was in Israel
with you, I marveled at your intellectualism as you debated controversial issues of contemporary
Israeli society, as well as at your graciousness when, at the final banquet, you presented your staff
with beautiful gifts and even more beautiful words in appreciation of what they had done for you.
Something as simple as those words of appreciation had a profound impact on your staff.
If you believe that everybody can have an impact, even if you are just 1 of 7 billion people, then you
will go on to do extraordinary things. Sometimes, you don’t even realize the impact you have. When
I asked you the other day about how a peer of yours has had an impact on you, one of you wrote
about another, “She has affected me for the better. Especially in Israel, she always had my back and
always knew how to make me smile. Even now she continues to brighten even my darkest of days,
and her personality just always lights up a room.” Another one of you wrote, “In 10th grade I was
sick on my birthday. In the middle of the day, I received a phone call from my Hebrew teacher and
the class. They called to sing “Happy Birthday” to me. Another: “This peer completely changed my
Schechter experience. He was always inspiring me with his incredible work ethic, and he helped me
get through every up and down of both middle and high school.” Another: “This peer is such a
great example of someone who takes what she learns to heart and encourages her peers every step
of the way. She is a dedicated friend, but beyond that, she is an amazing listener. When I gave a
speech in Ms. Tallman's class that I was so nervous about, she came right up to me after and made
me feel so glad that I had spoken so openly.” But one of you wrote something I find to be the most
interesting: rather than speaking of a specific person, this senior wrote: “Something that has
occurred throughout my four years that has always struck me as impressive is the inclusive Schechter
kehilah, especially within my grade. The fact that even people I am not necessarily so friendly with
will go out of their way to say hi to me, or make conversation, or comfort me, is something that has
certainly made a difference in my life and is something I'll miss about my grade.”
Sometimes it’s something as simple as saying hello to someone passing you by. Sometimes it’s
something more complicated like starting an organization to fight pediatric cancer. But it always
comes back to the positive impact that you, as an individual, can have on others.
Your success should not be measured by the number of “A”s you get in college, the salary you earn
at your first job, or where you live. Your success should be measured by the impact you are able to
have on others.
The fear I have as principal of a high school like this is that you get so used to all the opportunities
and advantages you have that by the time you graduate, you forget that you are among the luckiest
and most fortunate people alive. If you dedicate yourselves to the notion that you have responsibility
not just to care for yourself, but to care for others as well, l’taken olam b’malchut Shadai, to fix the
world under the reign of God, then you will truly understand what it is to be a Schechter
Westchester graduate.
Suzie Izatt thought she was a “nobody” with nothing interesting going on in her life. Yet when Steve
Hartman interviewed her, she had three children living with her and her husband. Having had a
hysterectomy when she was 25 years old, she and her husband adopted the oldest child, Josh. A few
years later, they became foster parents to two young children who had been neglected by their birth
mother. When Steve Hartman asked the two foster children if they wanted to say anything to the
Izatts, the then-8-year-old Joey asked, “Can I be adopted?” When Steve Hartman relayed the story
to Suzie Izatt, she was overwhelmed with emotion, and told Mr. Hartman that she was absolutely
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going to do so. As he was leaving, Mr. Hartman said to her, “I guess you don’t have such a boring
life with nothing interesting going on after all.” “I guess not,” Suzie responded.
None of you have boring lives either. Don’t ever think that you don’t matter. Oftentimes the things
we measure the most—grades, money, job status—matter the least. You will no longer measure
your number of community service hours, or the number of times you attend mincha, or the
number of minutes you come late to school. You should measure what’s most important—your
impact on others. In 1968, Robert Kennedy warned against counting the wrong things when he
spoke about the shortcomings of what our Gross National Product measures. “For too long,” he
said, “we seem to have surrendered personal excellence and community value in the mere
accumulation of material things. Our gross national product now is over 800 billion dollars a year,
but that gross national product, if we judge the United States of America by that, that gross national
product counts air pollution, and cigarette advertising, and ambulances to clear our highways of
carnage. It counts special locks for our doors and the jails for the people who break them. It counts
the destruction of the redwoods and the loss of our natural wonder in chaotic squall. It counts
Napalm, and it counts nuclear warheads, and armored cars for the police to fight the riots in our
city. It counts Whitman's rifles and Speck's Knives and the television programs which glorify
violence in order to sell toys to our children. Yet the gross national product does not allow for the
health of our children, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play; it does not include the
beauty of our poetry or the strength of our marriages, the intelligence of our public debate or the
integrity of our public officials. It measures neither our wit nor our courage, neither our wisdom nor
our learning, neither our compassion nor our devotion to our country; it measures everything, in
short, except that which makes life worthwhile. And it can tell us everything about America except
why we are proud that we are Americans.”
Graduates, as you walk out of our kehilah today, may you continue to make a positive impact on
others. May you always treat others with dignity and respect. May you remember those who have
supported you and cheered you on. May you remember where you came from. Lilmod u’lelamed,
lishmor v’la’asot; “To learn and to teach, to observe and to act.” May your knowledge guide your
actions, and may your deeds have a significant and lasting impact on others, as they have on me.
MAZAL TOV!