Governor Hogan delivered a speech that I found particularly meaningful. He mentioned that as a governor of Maryland, he once worked in the space directly above the original conference room where George Washington had worked. He also noted that Washington College was the first college chartered after the establishment of the United States, and that Washington himself was the founder of the college, personally granting his name to the school. Hogan, a notably bipartisan politician, also announced the formal establishment of the Larry Hogan Institute at Washington College for nurturing future generations of young leaders.

All of this made the workplace of students, faculty and staff feel meaningful, and meaning itself is a scarce resource in our time. During the late Qing dynasty, some Confucian/Ruist officials were sent to the United States to study its political institutions. After learning that George Washington relinquished power and declined kingship after winning the Revolutionary War, these Ru scholars compared him to ancient sage-kings such as Yao and Shun, who abdicated power to the most virtuous members of the next generation rather than keeping it within their own family. We often see a person’s true character when they possess power, and I still believe this historical resonance reveals something important.

What I most want to reflect upon, however, is the students whom I have taught and interacted with over the years. This year has been especially strong in terms of recommending students to graduate programs. I wrote four recommendation letters for Washington College undergraduates applying to graduate school: one to a university near Seattle for clinical psychology; another to a university in Pennsylvania for higher education management, particularly athlete management and coaching; a third to law school at Capital University in Ohio, after receiving multiple offers; and a fourth to the PhD program in education at the University of Hawai‘i. This fourth case involved a former Washington College undergraduate who applied after completing her master’s degree at another university. 

In previous years, I have successfully recommended students to graduate programs in law, information science, psychology, and other fields. But this year, because there were four such students, and because several of them shared their decisions and news with me during the commencement ceremony itself, I felt especially joyful about both the timing and the number.

Whenever I receive a request for a recommendation letter, I return to the assignments students submitted, reread my feedback and their grades, and only then begin writing the letter with as much care and detail as possible. At a small liberal arts college like ours, my knowledge of students also tends to deepen through unhurried conversations both inside and outside the classroom. Honestly, this makes me happy, even happier than receiving a promotion or an award myself. This is probably the best part of being a teacher: seeing students with whom one has worked closely move toward success.

Another point worth noting is that, although most of these students are not pursuing graduate study in philosophy or religious studies, all of them took my philosophy and religion courses at different stages of their college education. Many also majored or minored in philosophy or religious studies. From my observation, these students possess remarkably clear visions of what they want to pursue in graduate school. Their chosen directions are highly specific, and when faced with multiple offers, they make decisions with a strong awareness of both their aspirations and their strengths. In most cases, these students choose professional programs as their direction of graduate study, and in America, this often provides a strong foundation for a stable middle-class life. 

I believe this is one of the underappreciated achievements of liberal education at an American-style liberal arts college. Serious and hardworking students often develop a profound self-awareness that undergirds both their career choices and broader life development. This is not surprising, since small classrooms nurture depth of individuation, while the relatively abundant institutional resources available to each student allow them to explore and cultivate different intellectual and personal possibilities. Compared to technical skills alone, I believe this kind of self-awareness will accompany and benefit them throughout their lives.

Mencius once said: “A person of virtue has three central joys, and bringing the kingly way of governance to all under heaven is not among them.” A person of virtue (君子) remains cautious about political power because of the elevated position it confers. Instead, among the three joys, Mencius says: “To gain fine talents from all under heaven and educate them—this is the third joy” (7A20, my translation). Mencius’s thought resonates deeply with Hogan’s speech, and also with my own joyful feelings today. Perhaps this final quoted sentence should serve as the subtitle of today’s post.