The following is the full transcript of Donovan Livingston’s Harvard Graduate School of Education Student Speech “Lift Off” on May 25, 2016.
Good afternoon. Good afternoon. How is everyone doing today? Good. Good.
So greetings friends, family, faculty, staff, alumni and the illustrious Class of 2016, make some noise!
So my name is Donovan Livingston and I came to address you in the best way I know how but you have to forgive me, I have to take this moment in for a little while.
When I spoke in my high school graduation several years ago, my high school English teacher threatened to replace me on the program or cut my microphone which he found out that I was interested in doing upon as a part of my remarks. So I am eternally grateful for being able to share this piece of myself in my most authentic voice with you this afternoon.
So spoken word poetry, it insists on participation, so if you feel so compelled, snap, clap, throw up your hands, rejoice, celebrate. Class of 2016 this is your address and this is your day.
Education then, beyond all other devices of human origin,
Is a great equalizer of the conditions of men.” — Horace Mann, 1848.
At the time of his remarks I couldn’t read, I couldn’t write.
Any attempt to do so, punishable by death.
For generations we have known of knowledge’s infinite power.
Yet somehow, we’ve never questioned the keeper of the keys —
The guardians of information.
Unfortunately, I’ve seen more dividing and conquering
In this order of operations — a heinous miscalculation of reality.
For some, the only difference between a classroom and a plantation is time.
How many times must we be made to feel like quotas —
Like tokens in coined phrases? —
There are days I feel like one, like only —
A lonely blossom in a briar patch of broken promises.
But hey, I’ve always been a thorn in the side of injustice.
Disruptive. Talkative. A distraction.
With a passion that transcends the confines of my consciousness —
Beyond your curriculum, beyond your standards.
I stand here, a manifestation of love and pain,
With veins pumping revolution.
I am the strange fruit that grew too ripe for the poplar tree.
I am a DREAM Act, Dream Deferred incarnate.
I am a movement — an amalgam of memories America would care to forget
My past, alone won’t allow me to sit still.
So my body, like the mind
Cannot be contained.
As educators, rather than raising your voices
Over the rustling of our chains,
Take them off. Un-cuff us.
Unencumbered by the lumbering weight
Of poverty and privilege,
Policy and ignorance.
I was in the 7th grade, when Ms. Parker told me,
“Donovan, we can put your excess energy to good use!”
And she introduced me to the sound of my own voice.
She gave me a stage. A platform.
She told me that our stories are ladders
That make it easier for us to touch the stars.
So climb and grab them.
Keep climbing. Grab them.
Spill your emotions in the big dipper and pour out your soul.
Light up the world with your luminous allure.
To educate requires Galileo-like patience.
Today, when I look my students in the eyes, all I see are constellations.
If you take the time to connect the dots,
You can plot the true shape of their genius —
Shining in their darkest hour.
I look each of my students in the eyes,
And see the same light that aligned Orion’s Belt
And the pyramids of Giza.
I see the same twinkle
That guided Harriet to freedom.
I see them. Beneath their masks and mischief,
Exists an authentic frustration;
An enslavement to your standardized assessments.