Remarks by the Chair of the Board of Trustees

Sunday, May 25, 2025
by Sharon Chang ’84, P’19, Chair of the Board of Trustees

Good morning, everyone. And good morning, President Bradley, Speaker Torey Maldonado, distinguished members of the faculty, my fellow trustees, parents, families, and friends. And on behalf of our Board of Trustees, enormous congratulations to you, class of 2025. We are so proud of you today.

What an absolute pleasure it has been getting to know many of you during your time here at Vassar. Even though your experience began during an incredibly challenging time, a global pandemic, every conversation, every gathering, every chance meeting that I have had with you only left me inspired; inspired by your brilliance, inspired by your creativity, your empathy, and your heart. Honestly, as I’ve told most of you before, you have raised the bar so high that I’m not sure I’d even get accepted to Vassar if I applied today! Probably would not.

But here’s a fun fact: I was sitting where you are now at my own commencement 41 years ago. A different female board chair—her name was Mary Draper Janney, Class of ’42—she was addressing my Class of 1984 just as I have the honor of doing for you today, not only as a woman but also as Vassar’s first woman of color board chair. As I thought about what kind of pithy, sage advice I could share with you this morning, I felt completely ill-equipped, struggling to figure out which hat I should wear. Should I wear the hat of a proud Vassar parent or a proud Vassar alum, or Vassar Board Chair? Well, I decided to set all those titles aside and speak to you simply as a newly minted grandmother—or Nana as I am called.

Yes, I’d like to share a personal story about my almost three-year-old granddaughter, Chloè. When Chloè was about 14 months old, she was still mastering the art of walking. She was still wobbly, but so inquisitive with a carefree air about her, often scurrying, giggling, humming, and bopping to Ms. Rachel YouTube videos.

One weekend, Chloè visited my husband and me in our unchildproofed condo, quickly and fearlessly scurrying around until she tripped, fell, and bumped her head. There was a sudden pause followed by a yelp and a cry, eyes lightly tearing. I scooped her up immediately, held her tightly, feeling both guilt and failure as her Nana, whispering all the soothing things I could whisper. But in about 10 seconds, she wiggled out of my arms and took off again, instantly back to normal, scurrying, giggling, bopping to Ms. Rachel as if the fall and bump never happened. I was stunned. I felt guilty. I had a 60-second moment of self-discovery, as I still often do these days at my age.

Chloè’s fearlessness, her resilience, and her ability to move on and, quote, “let it go” so quickly after her fall were in stark contrast to how I was choosing to live my life. You see, over time, my trips, my falls, my bumps, my bruises often became battle scars—

I discovered that—and unintentionally morphed into a more cynical, judgmental, and pessimistic view of life. Yes, I would often hold onto things, allowing the hard stuff of life to calcify. I missed the experience of wonder and curiosity and carefreeness that I witnessed in Chloè that day.

I don’t know your stories, but I imagine today that your very special day, this very special day, you’re feeling a blend of excitement, joy, and relief sprinkled with a bit of anxiety. It’s a tender space to be in—full of possibility but also uncertainty, walking kind of wobbly into the unknown. But yet, here’s the thing. Let’s keep it real. Life is hard. But I encourage you to fight fiercely to keep it from calcifying you. Embrace your 14-month-old self and, like Chloè, don’t miss the good stuff hidden in the hard stuff.

As you transition into this next season of your life, embrace the wobbliness of your awkward steps and know that they’ll become steady. And when you fall, and you will fall, we all do, you should yelp and cry, but be open to being held and comforted by your family, your friends, your faith, and our lifelong Vassar community. But then remember to build habits and make it your new normal to let it go. Squirm out of those loving arms that are holding you, get back up, but then laugh and dance to Ms. Rachel.

Congratulations again, class of 2025! You are the best. “You did it,” as Elle Woods said in Legally Blonde!