Chapel talk: Richard Hutton '01

Richard Hutton '01, who has taught history and worked in admissions since September, leaves St. Andrew's to begin his service with the U.S. Army. He addressed the School at Wednesday chapel on January 4, 2006.

During my VI Form year, we all gathered down here for our Wednesday night chapel once, and heard Mr. Speers speak about the subject of time. Its passing, its coming, its going, and how we might best make use of it. He spoke about what it was like as a faculty member to see class after class of St. Andreans come, and then before any of them were ready, go. He spoke about our memories, our dreams and where some of us may one day end up. When he got to me, I felt a little nervous, but smiled when he predicted where I would find myself.

Back at St. Andrew's. A part of me knew what he said was what I wanted, and another part of wondered how the heck he knew that. When I joked about it with my friends afterwards I tried to dismiss what he said, not wanting to be 'the one' who would come back to work here. But I couldn't shake it. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a teacher, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a soldier or an astronaut or a businessman. About the only thing I knew for sure was that I did not want to be on the receiving end of Mr. Hyde's next basketball practice rant.

But I also knew that I loved St. Andrew's, and so the more I thought about what Mr. Speers had said, the more welcoming his words were to me. It was sort of like that embarrassed feeling you get when someone calls you out for thinking or feeling in the exact way that you are. And you squirm, make denials, and get red in the face, but know that what was said got to you in a way little else did, and that meant something.

The Lessons and Carols service marked my first trip to this pulpit since my VI Form year. Everything already prepared and synchronized, I could add little to my reading. And so I like this better, my own words, my own thoughts and my own feelings, no pomp and tradition, and certainly no expectations. I am after all closer in age to nearly all of you than to most of my colleagues, with nothing but a B.A. and an inkling that where I'm headed is somewhere few St Andreans have recently tread, and an area where I'm sure few of you will follow.

But you are why I'm here, why I came back to work at St. Andrew's and why I stand before you now. As much as a part of me wanted to use this chapel talk to wax eloquently about the obligations that I felt drove me to where I'm going, I leapt at the chance to stand here in front of you and tell not why I chose to serve or why I'm actually excited about it, but to simply offer you three pieces of advice, as you all prepare to make the very same transition that I did barely four years ago.

These pieces of advice are not groundbreaking or earth-shattering, but for me they mean something. As a teacher I feel it is my obligation to teach my students to learn to love what they are doing. I feel strongly about this because, as my Western Civ class can hopefully explain, I love what I'm doing, and I want all of you to feel the same way when you are 23 and out of college. You'll excuse me if these remarks appear to be oriented towards the VI Formers, but as they are the only ones who are close enough to imagine not being here anymore, I feel as though before I depart I should give them every bit of helpful advice that I can. I'll settle for three little nuggets.

I'll warn you however about the potential dangers of taking my advice. I once as a child advised my brutish younger brother, a beast some of you all remember as Cuth, that he would be fine riding his new 'training wheel free' bicycle down the big neighborhood hill moments before the family vacation was to depart. I'll let you all piece together how that one turned out.

During my senior year here, I advised my roommate that it would be fine to play a quick game of Tony Hawk skateboarding on our counterfeit television during study hall. So confident was I, in fact, that I joined in the fun. I smiled shortly thereafter when I was congratulated on pulling off my first double kick-flip, and as my video game-obsessed mind wondered how Mr. Austin knew what a double kick-flip was or why he would be congratulating me on it, I was caught. My advice this time also brought me under.

Nugget Number 1: Find your comfort zone, and do as much as you can to live outside of it.

I think of my comfort zone as being a place in which I have no fears and few allusions. St. Andrew's fits within my comfort zone, as I'm sure it does for most of you. But here's something that doesn't fit: having 10 minutes to prepare for a Global Studies class you are now teaching by yourself because the Austin-Matouk kiddos are home sick. Or sitting down with an eighth grader who has lost a parent and wants nothing more than to be a part of this place, but knowing that he won't make it.

We grow as human beings in places and situations that are foreign to us. We grow when we are challenged. We grow when our mind races and our heart beats and people watch. We grow on days like September 11th. Placing yourself outside of your comfort zone can be as trivial as making conversation in the dinner line, or as life-changing as joining the U.S. Army. By being pushed, prodded and tested in ways that you never have before, you will learn about yourself: what you enjoy doing, who you want to be with, and how much you are able to accomplish.

Nugget Number 2: Find a role model, someone you respect and admire, someone who perhaps a part of you wishes to be like, start talking to them, and never stop.

I have many people like this in my life, some of whom are here right now -- people like my father, my college advisor, and even friends of mine who've gone before me. These people do a number of things for you. First, they provide you, as a young person, with a sense of reality that you don't have the experience to grasp. They teach you the tricks of your trade, and you become devoted to them. Second, they care about you, and because they care, they tutor you, advise you, protect you, and push you in the right direction. A mentor is someone who will help show you the way, but understands that only you can traverse it.

I can't tell you how much I abuse these people. Mostly my father and older brothers, but being here, I, like you, have hit the jackpot. Mr. Roach, Mr. Speers, Mrs. Zendt, Mr. Austin, Mr. Caldwell and on and on. Ask questions. Ask about college, ask about life, ask about what worked and what didn't work. By confiding and trusting in those who have gone before, you open yourself to learn from their experiences, and by keeping a warm sense of humor about yourself, you'll begin making relationships that will last as long as you want them to last. When you all leave here, you will lose the closeness of this community and in turn have to develop that yourself in college. Professors will not approach you and offer you assistance. You must seek these people out. By finding them and exploring with them your interests, your hopes, and your goals, you will find common ground, and begin to understand just how much help is out there, waiting for you to ask the first question.

Nugget Number 3: Get it!

This is the most important but also the most personal piece of advice I'll give you. 'Getting it' is not easy. It's a little different for everyone, and I can't definitively tell you how you can 'get it'. What I can do is tell you about some of my experiences, and let you reach your own conclusions.

I had some buddies in college that graduated my sophomore year. They were great guys; we played basketball together, joined the same fraternity, and had a lot of good times. I looked up to them. They graduated and came back to visit my junior year. After catching up and gossiping about college life, we got to really talking. They all said the same thing. Don't leave college. The real world is miserable. My job stinks.

While they were still in school, these guys studied subjects that they had no interest in: marketing, finance, communications, whatever. They hated them. You all will be surprised how many of your classmates at the next level are similar to these guys, how many people take class after class in subjects that they dislike, doing work that they hate with people who take no joy in what they are doing.

So I asked them: you hate your job, your working in a cubicle, 60 or 70 hours a week, why are you doing this to yourself? You're 23 years old and you're miserable, this should be one of the best years of your life, why are you doing this? They each gave me around 50,000 reasons why.

Our conversation ended shortly thereafter, and I haven't spoken with any of them since. My friends bought into a system that our society feeds and that competition demands. They hate their jobs. They work terrible hours. Their release is to get drunk on the weekends. They play fantasy sports, sleep until about noon every Saturday and Sunday, and don't like holding serious conversations about anything besides the NFL playoffs. They lack a depth and dynamic character that we too often take for granted.

They didn't get it. They didn't understand that life is so much more than making money and conforming to society. They didn't know that life does not have to be a grind. They didn't understand because they had no experience in taking classes that were of interest to them, they had never been excited about a project or a book they were reading, they never sat down and had real conversations with their teachers. They were afraid to leave their comfort zone, and so they never built meaningful relationships with the adults around them.

Mr. Scoville and I walk into our office every morning with smiles on our faces. We love what we do. We love talking about this place with potential students, we love telling parents what amazing experiences we had here. We play office jokes on each other, and jabber with Mr. Caldwell and Mr. Speers all day. As I walk down the hallway preparing to lead a discussion about the fall of the Roman Republic, or walk into the small gym to help Nwakibe with his jump shot, I smile because I'm having fun. I'm living.

I understand that I don't make a lot of money. I understand that I'm not free every weekend to go see friends. I understand that I spend every Tuesday night monitoring evening study hall when I could be doing something else. I do what do because it makes me happy, and because I love doing it. As cheesy or simplistic as that sounds, it's the truth, and it's why I'm here. I don't know what I want out of life, but I know that I want to happy in whatever I do, and that means that I won't compromise that to earn more money or climb the corporate ladder. I understand that loving what I do and spending my time doing it is not too much to ask, and I feel safe in saying that every faculty member here would agree with me.

There is honor in supporting your family, paying your bills and putting food on the table. Millions of Americans work hard in jobs that they don't like because people rely on them. And for those lucky souls who live to be financial consultants, they get the best of both worlds. But you all will have a choice to make one day, perhaps sooner than you think. You will have to decide what path you want to go down, and what your priorities are. That decision might be centered on what summer job you accept, what major you choose, or whether or not you decide to study abroad.

What I challenge each one of you to do as you become an upperclassman here or move onto college, is to find out what you really love doing. Be active, travel, read different books. If you're a Hemingway fan, sign up for a chemistry class. By doing and experiencing more, you will grow as a person and begin to understand how the world works. You'll find what it is you love to study or build or write about and then, hopefully, you'll get it. And the best part is, by enjoying how you spend your time, whatever you focus on will be easy. You will excel at math if you love math, and you will be really, really good at analyzing Shakespeare if you really, really love analyzing Shakespeare. You'll also understand that it's okay to be selfish sometimes because you have to do what is most important for you. You will start to follow your bliss, and in doing so will realize that there is nothing more important to your life than taking joy out of what it is you spend your time doing. You won't be able to recreate your St. Andrew's experience in college, but you will be able to meet the same types of interesting and motivating people by pushing yourself and being able to take joy out of what it is you do.

I doubt any of you will come back to work here as I have, and when you 'get it', you will surely be heading in your direction. And thus I'm headed in mine. Ft. Knox, Kentucky, Ft. Benning, Georgia, Ft. Bliss, Texas. The First Cavalry Division, Iraq.

I'm lucky. I'm pretty sure I 'get it', because I'm happy about where I am and excited about where I'm going. Only you will be able to know when you feel that way. And when you do, you'll get a different sort of funny feeling. You won't squirm or make denials, and you certainly won't get red in the face. Instead, you'll smile, and laugh, and wonder how the heck you got lucky enough to end up in such a wonderful place, with such inspiring people, doing, whatever it is, you do.