Lyndon Commencement Recap

EVAN COLMAN

Encompassing five campuses and multiple learning sites, Vermont State University is situated on the lands and waters that have long served as places of convening and stewarded by generations of Indigenous peoples, particularly the Western Abenaki. 

We honor and respect the indigenous knowledge interwoven in these lands and waters, and we also recognize that a land acknowledgement is merely a first step toward addressing historical injustices. 

We commit to uplifting the Indigenous peoples and cultures present on these lands and waters and within our communities in alignment with our dedication to nurturing a welcoming, diverse, and inclusive learning and working environment where all members of the community are valued and respected. 

Welcome to the Vermont State University Lyndon Commencement Ceremony, the 2^nd Official VTSU Commencement!  

Before we go any further, let’s take a moment to celebrate the heart of today’s event—our graduates. Please join me in a round of applause for the VTSU Class of 2025!  

Good morning and welcome to you all. I expect it’s an especially good morning for our graduates, and maybe an even better one for the family and friends who are celebrating here with us today. 

Thank you all for being here in Lyndon on this glorious Vermont day. Thank you students for all the hard work you put in to get here, thank you families and friends for your unwavering support, and thank you VTSU faculty and staff for your passion and dedication to our students and their success.

I am joined on this stage today by, President Emeritus Barbara E. Murphy, Chancellor Beth Mauch, Board of Trustees Chairwoman Lynn Dickenson, Trustee David Durfee, Trustee David Siverman, Provost Nolan Atkins, Dean of Students Jamia Danzy, Dean Leslie Kanat, Mace Bearer Dr. Gina Mireault, Alumni Association President Julie Hulburd, and our keynote speaker, Gregory Tatro.  

It is our collective honor and deep privilege to be here with you all today and to bear witness to your triumph – to watch all of you – Vermont State University’s second graduating class – cross this stage and collect the diploma/credential you have earned.  

We are all here to celebrate not only this thrilling moment in your educational career – with the gowns and the photographers and the handshaking, and the tears of joy (mostly mine) – but also the countless invested hours that led to this moment. Hours of studying, questioning, practicing, planning, programming, building, testing, trying, failing, and trying again with the industriousness, creativity, and dogged determination that defines Vermont State University students and will serve you well throughout your personal and professional lives.  

As you prepare to embark on the next chapter – whether that be a first job, a new job, a promotion, a new degree – I want to draw attention to a few often overlooked, but highly valuable competencies you have developed in your time as a VTSU student – gifts I hope you will continue to nurture and practice throughout your life.

Curiosity, Flexibility, and Courage.  

Be curious. 

Curiosity is how you started this journey. Curiosity led you to VTSU – curiosity about who you are, how you learn, what you love, and how you can learn to do what you love better and make a living at it. Maybe your curiosity pushed you to take an extra lab, join a club, take a class online, travel abroad, go to a conference, pursue an internship or an apprenticeship, or do something that really, really freaked you out. Your curiosity probably also led you astray once or twice along the way, because, despite what they say about the dubious relationship between curiosity and cats, few real, worthy journeys in life follow a perfect or linear path. 

Stay curious about people—especially those who may think differently than you. Ask more questions than you answer, and challenge yourself to listen and truly hear what others are saying – both their words, and their meaning. Learn new skills, even when you don’t have to. Read as much as you can. And never assume you’ve got it all figured out, because in my own experience, moments of surety most often occur right before the universe decides to teach me a lesson.   

Curiosity will keep you growing long after you leave the classroom. It will keep you sharp and protect you from complacency. Curiosity is a gift, albeit sometimes an uncomfortable one, that, perhaps most importantly, will lead you to empathy, kindness, creativity, and innovation— vital qualities we need more of in the world today. 

Be flexible. 

If the last few years have taught us anything, it’s that life is unpredictable and change is constant. Sometimes you may CHOOSE to change careers, change cities, change skills, change direction.  And sometimes, change may not be your choice, but a requirement.  

Whether you are off to start your first career, or your 3rd, you will likely all face moments that challenge your plans—and your patience. 

And again, that’s okay. 

Success rarely looks like what we imagine or expect. You will face some challenges that are easily navigated, and others that test your character, strength, and resolve in the extreme. Facing the ebb and flow of life’s challenges with flexibility allows you to pivot without losing purpose. To adapt without losing agency. To be resilient, rather than rigid. Maintaining an ethos of agility will allow you to embrace change over time, not as an obstacle to conquer, but as a partner in your growth. 

Finally, and perhaps most importantly: Be courageous. 

Our world is complex and fast-moving. You will encounter uncertainty, disappointment, and moments of doubt that require you to deploy more courage than you feel you possess. Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the decision that something else matters more. Courage is taking on a challenge with honor, fortitude, and purpose. Courage is speaking up when it would be easier to stay silent. It is abandoning what’s comfortable in pursuit of what’s meaningful.  

You don’t need to be fearless – no one truly is. You just need to be brave enough to take the first step, and then the second, and then the third, and so on. Some of the most important choices in your life will not come with a roadmap or a role model. But the courage to begin anyway, to try and be willing to fail, and then to try again—that’s what shapes true leaders, thinkers, and doers. 

Graduates, the world needs you now more than ever – not just your knowledge and skills, but your character. We need your curiosity to solve problems we haven’t yet imagined with empathy, respect, and kindness, we need your flexibility to navigate whatever challenges come next with patience and grace, and we need your courage to take the first steps. 

I want to take a moment to emphasize the importance of kindness – kindness to yourselves and to those with whom you are sharing your journey. We are all fellow travelers and we are all deserving of patience, grace, and support as we navigate this together.   

As I imagine the full scope of the positive impact you all will have within your families, your workplace, your communities and beyond, I am filled with a sense of deep hope and resounding optimism for our collective future.  

On behalf of Vermont State University and all the faculty and staff here on the Castleton Campus thank you. Thank you for trusting us with your education. Thank you for letting us learn, adapt, and grow with you.  

It’s been a true honor for all of us to share this part of your lives with you. 

Congratulations, graduates. 

NOLAN ATKINS (PROVOST):

Thank you President Bergh. I would now like to take a moment to present a very special award to one of our esteemed faculty members. 

The Pat and Dick Richardson Faculty Recognition Award was established to honor Vermont State University faculty members who, through their teaching, service, and scholarship, exemplify the best values of our Castleton, Johnson, Lyndon, and Vermont Technical legacy institutions as ‘small schools with big hearts.’ The contributions and commitments of these award recipients make Vermont State University an indispensable educational resource for its students, the State of Vermont, and beyond. The faculty member selected holds this one-time award for a period of three years and receives a prize of funding made possible through the generosity and vision of Pat and Dick Richardson. Award funds may be used for professional development, enhancing educational experiences for students, or other initiatives that further student learning and achievement in alignment with the mission of VTSU.” 

This year’s award honors an amazing faculty member at VTSU Lyndon. The nominator writes this person “is an amazing teacher! She has single handedly energized the animation program on the Lyndon campus and created the Vermont Animation Festival, which her students help run.” Among the many ways she enhances the student experience is the annual trip she takes with students to an Ottawa film festival, and her involvement in the 3-D certification.  Although she already has the qualifying credential, she has chosen to study further by enrolling in one of the top grad programs for her field, the Savannah College of Art and Design while still teaching full time, to use her continuing education to serve her students even better.  Please join me in congratulating the 2025 Pat and Dick Richardson Faculty Recognition Award goes to Kate Renner. 

PRESIDENT BERGH: 

It is a tradition at Vermont State University that a graduating student is selected to address their peers. Today, we recognize this year’s Student Speaker, Alberto Bustamante  

Born in California, Alberto found Vermont through a baseball scholarship opportunity here at Lyndon and has been an active member of the community, athletics department and student body ever since. Alberto has served as the President of the Student Government Association, where he was a tireless advocate for students, helping to elevate voices and address real issues facing our campus. He was also a proud member of our baseball team, bringing the same energy and heart to the field that he brought to every student meeting, event, and initiative he led. Beyond campus, Alberto represented student-athletes on the national stage as part of the NCAA’s Student-Athlete Advisory Committee. 

Please join me in welcoming your 2025 student speaker—Alberto Bustamante 

ALBERTO BUSTAMANTE:

When I first sat down to write this speech, I did what most students do when they’re stuck—I Googled it. “Best graduation speeches.” I thought I’d find the perfect quote by Steve Jobs, throw in a few clichés about turning the page and stepping into the future—and call it a day. 

But then I thought… nah. That’s not me. And honestly, that’s not us either. 

Our journeys have been anything but cliché. I mean, sure—we showed up to class, wrote our papers (sometimes at 2 a.m.), joined clubs, stressed over finals. But we also made it through group projects without committing actual crimes, navigated classes during a pandemic, inflation, AI-generated essays—don’t act like you didn’t at least try it once—and let’s not forget the existential crisis every time someone asked, “So, what are you doing after graduation?” 

To be honest this path wasn’t simple, and it definitely wasn’t the same for any two of us. Some of us knew exactly what we wanted to do from day one. Others switched majors more than they changed laundry detergent. Some of us had to work jobs, take care of family, or figure things out completely on our own. And yet, we’re all sitting here today, in these robes and funny hats, proving we didn’t just survive—we earned this.

Now, I know graduation speeches are supposed to be inspirational, so let me try this: the future… is a mess. 

Let me explain  

The world is unpredictable. Plans change. Jobs disappear. TikTok trends come and go faster than attention spans. And just when you think you’ve got life figured out, it throws you a curveball 

But here’s the good news: we’ve been living in unpredictability for the last four years, and we didn’t just adapt—we grew. We built resilience, learned how to pivot, how to advocate, how to lead—even if that leadership was just convincing your group chat to meet on Zoom at the same time. That still counts. 

As the former Student Government Association President, I’ve had the chance to work behind the scenes, to see what happens when students take ownership—not just of their own path, but of the entire community. I’ve watched students fight for change, push for equity. 

And as a member of the baseball team—shoutout to the boys and the generational talents—I’ve learned that leadership doesn’t always come with a title. Sometimes it’s about keeping each other grounded through a losing streak, staying late after practice to help someone figure out their swing, or showing up when it counts, not for glory—but for the team. That loyalty, that grind, that heart—it’s what got us through. 

And if there’s one thing I’ve learned through SGA, through baseball, and even through my time with the NCAA—it’s that community matters. It’s the people you show up for, the ones who challenge you and support you at the same time. It’s those late-night talks, the tough love, the group messages that turn into lifelines. Community is what reminds us that success isn’t just about individual achievement—it’s about lifting each other up, celebrating together, and knowing you never really had to do it all alone. 

What makes me proudest today isn’t just the diplomas we’re about to get. It’s knowing that this class, our class, is made up of people who didn’t take shortcuts. We found ways forward when it would’ve been easier to quit. We showed up even when it was hard. And we held each other down when the weight felt like too much. 

We’re not perfect. But we’re prepared. 

Because success isn’t a straight line—its more like a really shaky rollercoaster ride 

So what now? 

Now we go. Not in the sense of rushing to some final destination, but in the sense of moving. Moving forward, trying new things, failing spectacularly and learning from it. Making bold decisions. Saying yes to opportunities we’re not 100% ready for—because that’s usually where the growth happens. 

Some of us are going straight into careers. Others are taking a gap year, heading to grad school, or just taking a well-deserved nap. Whatever it is—there’s no single right path. The only wrong move is standing still because you’re scared of getting it wrong. 

We don’t need to have everything figured out right now. What we do need is the courage to start, the humility to learn, and the guts to keep going. 

So here’s my advice, from one graduate to another: 

Be the person in the room who asks the question everyone’s too afraid to ask. 

Say “thank you” more often than you think you need to. 

Don’t be the smartest person in the room—be the most curious. 

And please, for all our sakes, back up your files. Just trust me. 

Class of 2025, this is our time. Not because someone handed it to us—but because we earned it. Let’s not wait for the future to happen to us. Let’s go create it—loudly, boldly, and maybe a little awkwardly—but authentically. 

And as we go out into this messy, unpredictable, exciting world—Ill give you some great life advice strive for perfection, so you can achieve greatness. 

Congratulations, everyone. We did it—and we’re just getting started. 

PRESIDENT BERGH: 

Thank you Alberto. 

It is now my pleasure to introduce our Special Keynote Speaker Ken Cadow.   

Ken is a principal at Oxbow High School in Bradford, VT and he is the author of Gather, a finalist for the National Book Award. 

Gather is the first young adult novel written by Ken, who drew upon his 20 years of working with middle and high school students as a teacher and administrator in rural Vermont to write this debut novel. Ken was selected as a finalist for the prestigious National Book Award in young people’s literature.  

Ken is the father of three remarkable adult children and lives in Pompanoosuc, Vermont, with his wife, Lisa, and their border collie, Quinn and we are honored to have him give our keynote address here today.  

KEN CADOW:

Good morning, Lyndon. Good morning, VTSU. By VT Standards, for those of you who are from away, this is a Vermont morning. 

I’d like to thank President Bergh for the introduction. Also, let me thank the folks who set up the chairs, the tent, directed parking, mowed the lawns and the athletic fields, made sure the sound system was functioning, who remain on standby as we speak, and whoever pushed whatever paperwork was necessary for this celebration. We all play a part. 

I’m deeply grateful and honored to have been invited to Lyndon to be part of marking this occasion with you, and to be in the good company of the faculty, staff, friends, family, peers, and partnerships that have helped you, graduates, get here today. Caring for one another, and seeing that care through to a waypoint such as this, is one of the hardest things we do. Also, it is one of the most rewarding. But carers, you know that we’re not done yet. Care is ongoing. 

And I would like to extend my profound appreciation to the folks who have worked to keep Vermont’s rural campuses alive, who keep the Lyndon Hornets buzzing, who, even as we consolidate, keep local, place-based traditions strong. The brave folks who dress up and take a plunge in the Library Pond come out into a better world. Even though they’re dripping wet: they’ve done something worth remembering. They’ve embraced the elements. When you dive in like that, you know what the local water feels like, brrrr! You become an active player in the local history. You’ve done something not  normal, and something worth remembering. 

Lyndon has such an interesting history. Lyndon started as a normal school: a school where folks who wanted to become teachers went for a year. The model for this came from the French: L’ecole normale: an institution to train prospective teachers how to set up a classroom of norms, so that young learners can come in to a predictable space and so, be in the best mindset for learning in a most predictable way. 

The world has changed: it feels less predictable, less normal, and it is shifting with a faster pace. And so, Lyndon has adapted: a series of transformations and growth to what it has become today: the Lyndon Campus of Vermont State University. And yet, Hornets, when you dive into the Library Pond, when you play for any Hornet team, you remind everyone that this is still Lyndon.  

Lyndon is a place. And that place is still here. You’re literally sitting in it: a campus where it gets dark enough to see the stars. Where the sky is uncluttered enough to study and witness the weather.

On July 29 of last year, I attended a board meeting of the Vermont Rural Education Collaborative in Newark, Vermont. It was a beautiful day in the North East Kingdom. We ate outside. We toured gardens and play areas. We exchanged ideas and examples of great rural education practices as we imagined the kids who would be returning to the school in a month, filling the school’s rooms and grounds with their voices and their whirlwinds of activity. 

I spent the following night at my camp. Rain had been forecast, possibly heavy at times. I woke to the pounding of rain on my roof and the roar of a waterfall where the tiny spring-fed stream that provides our fresh water had overshot its banks in the space of an hour, and, for a little while was large enough that it could have become a tourist attraction. But I was the only one out there, with my flashlight and my leaky rain jacket, marveling that a drainage basin of probably less than six acres could produce enough runoff to cause such a roaring cascade. To my surprise, my driveway held up. On my necessarily roundabout drive into work the next morning, I witnessed the wreckage of our roads: jagged pavement overhanging roadbeds that had been carved away into caves. Cars, work sheds, trees, and lumber swept into flotsam, damming the culverts. 

But the rain had stopped. And people were out. Not just milling around, looking at the latest magnitude of rain ruin, but helping each other. Ensuring safety by putting up signs to redirect from impassable roads. Removing debris to open the blocked ways up again. Troubleshooting, problem solving, shoveling, lending hands, connecting.  

Caring. In a place where the landscape is literally shifting, neighbors were helping neighbors. And strangers. No one who jumped in to help, or who accepted help, is going to forget that experience. The experience of what it means to play an active part in a caring community. To step in, maybe dive in, to assist. 

Isn’t it fascinating that the abnormal: the hundred-year flood, the triple rainbow, the acceptance of help from a stranger, the cold plunge, is what we are most inclined to remember, and that “normal” schools were set up to train teachers? 

¿Is a deeply manufactured normalcy always the optimal environment for learning? 

Granted, as I was driving through the flood site of July 29^th on the morning of July 30^th, I didn’t see any math teachers standing waist-deep in fast-moving, muddy water trying to teach algebra II to the others in attendance. The math isn’t what I would have remembered, in a case like that.  

What I remember, when I’ve stepped in to lend a hand, or when others have stepped in – to lend a hand, to listen, to make life, not necessarily normal, but manageable for me, is the great human capacity for kindness, for thoughtfulness, for community.  

What can you do, every day, so that you stand the best chance of remembering that day?  

Graduates: How will you remember today? I recall that from the start of my college experience, I spent four years looking forward to the receipt of my degree. But honestly, I have only the vaguest memory of my graduation ceremony: it’s of being very hot under the black gown, sitting in a metal chair, wishing I’d worn shorts. I remember the people who came: my parents, and my sister Kathy. Let’s do something different today. Let’s do something abnormal.  

Wait until the count to three, but then, count of three: 

Stand up, for a minute, if you can. Don’t leave your space, but… stretch your legs. Look around you. With your eyes, find someone you don’t know. If you’re okay with it, lock eyes for a second. Smile the smile that means we are here for a joyous occasion. We are here to celebrate.  

Don’t be stubborn Vermonters now… 

Ready? 

One… two… three… Okay. Stand up. Look around. Look at the grass, the ceiling of the tent (or the sky), the trees (if you can see them), the green of Vermont. Now look for that person you don’t know. Smile. Smile the smile that means this is a celebratory morning. Smile the smile that means that the person you are here to witness has made it here.  

Let’s make sure no one was left out – that no one, hoping to make eye contact didn’t get the chance. Another look around, another smile, before we all sit down.  

Please sit down when you are ready. Thank you for cooperating, if you did. Thank you for not cooperating, if you didn’t. Thank you for thinking back on this day, if you will.

I ask again, specifically to the graduates: What can you do, every day, so that you stand the best chance of remembering that day? Of course, you won’t remember every day, but you can increase the odds.

Back on the subject of drainage basins… I live downriver from the Union Village Dam, an Army Corps of Engineers project that is part of the flood control system of the Connecticut River: allowing control of the release of snowmelt and floodwater, so that the waters passing through Vermont don’t accumulate to take out the farmlands and cities further south in Massachusetts and Connecticut. The area behind the dam is full of ash trees, hemlocks, beeches, oaks, and sugar maples. The topography is of stony ridges, rich soils, ferny groves, bald hilltops, and hemlock-crowned promontories.  

It is also full of singletrack mountain biking trails that sidle up the hillsides, thread along ancient stone walls, threaten a rider’s unprotected knuckles with thorny hedges abundant with red raspberries, and ford tiny streams. I have ridden these trails thousands of times. I remember, distinctly, fewer than twenty of those rides. Once, when I stopped to collect tennis balls, floated down from who knows where, in the tributaries, but that finally got caught up in the wrack line along the giant boom upstream from the dam. I stuffed all three pockets of my biking jersey with tennis balls – more than thirty. My border collie was thrilled when I got home. I recall two distinct times that I had to brake hard for a porcupine in the trail.  

But my fondest memory is of a first ride in the spring, when the trails had dried enough so that my knobby tires would not cause damage. The snowmelt and spring rains had been extreme enough to carve what had been a shallow, seasonal stream bed into a channel deep and abrupt enough to give any unwary mountain biker a head-over-heels-over-bike experience in the crossing.  

I stopped in time. Instead of carrying my bike over, I leaned it against a dead elm and went for a walk. 

Along the riverbank, I found a plank, a two-by-twelve, maybe fourteen feet long. I carried it back and laid it down. It easily spanned the gap. I was the first to ride across. 

That plank stayed in place for several years. It provided I don’t know how many hundreds of crossings for other mountain bikers.  

That plank was heavy and wet and gritty from river sand. I can still feel the weight and grit of it in my arms and on my palms as if it happened only last year. But this happened more than a decade ago.

Eventually, other trail builders came by with their Milwaukee 18-volt battery powered this-and-that tools and a wagon of lumber, and put a Bonafide bridge in its place. But I will always feel that I am part of the story of that crossing. I try to pick routes that bring me over that bridge, because that place and that memory bring me happiness. 

Of course, sometimes the things we do are worth remembering because of the need to remember not to try them again: like, don’t assume there’s a huge buffer built in to the warning light on your car’s fuel gauge, especially between exit 24 and Exit 25 on I-91, or you might get really familiar with mile-marker 146.6 while giving someone else the chance to step in, or, drive up, and lend a hand with a can of gas. 

But graduates, what I want to say is: there is a hopeful future ahead of you, made more clear, perhaps, by the marking of your success today. In a surprisingly short amount of time, you’ll look back and see that we aren’t, actually, here for all that long: that our opportunities for doing things worth remembering are limited: that the years, the decades, the generations, fly by.  

I wish you great happiness. And happiness is rarely arrived at by hopping on a well-maintained and obvious highway and making a beeline for some prescribed point on a map. Happiness is something that comes. It catches up when we stop. When we stop on the small back roads. It finds us when we recognize each other’s humanity. When we smile on behalf of someone else. When we stop to help each other be well, and when we accept help from others. 

I’d like to leave you with this question: What can we do so that the notion and action of being a helper to both neighbors and strangers, and the notion and action of being cared for and about by both neighbors and strangers, feel normal again?  

Graduates – I wish you a future of caring: of contributing and of benefitting in equal shares.  

Congratulations. 

HANNAH REID: 

My name is Hannah Reid and as VTSU’s Vice President of Communications, Alumni and External Affairs, it is my pleasure to introduce a proud Lyndon graduate whose voice is beloved across Vermont airwaves and whose service to his alma mater spans decades. Steve Cormier, Class of 1982, has worn many hats—from student leader and DJ to media executive and community advocate. Today, he continues his service as a past and present President of the Lyndon Alumni Council—please join me in welcoming Steve Cormier. 

STEVE CORMIER:

On behalf of the Alumni Association, I would like to extend a warm welcome to the Class of 2025. It is hard to believe that I crossed this stage 43 years ago. The education that I received here has led me on a fantastic journey both professionally and personally. We encourage you to stay connected, support one another, and remain engaged with the VTSU community and VTCAA. We look forward to seeing all that you will accomplish—and we’re proud to call you fellow alumni.  Congratulations! 

Outstanding Senior Award

I would now like to take a moment and present a special award to one of our esteemed senior class members. 

On behalf of the Lyndon Alumni Council, I am honored to present the Outstanding Graduating Senior Award—an award recognizing a senior who demonstrates strong leadership, meaningful community involvement, and a cumulative GPA of 3.0 or higher. 

This year’s recipient is graduating a year early with a degree in Business Administration and an impressive 3.93 GPA. Recognized multiple times on the President’s and Dean’s Lists, they have also earned regional and national academic honors. 

A standout athlete, this student led the North Atlantic Conference in scoring and was named to the NAC All-Conference First Team. Their impact off the court is just as impressive—serving as a two-year captain, Vice President of the Student-Athlete Advisory Committee, and a leader in numerous service initiatives. 

Off the court, this student’s leadership has been just as remarkable. They represented Vermont State University Lyndon at the NCAA Student-Athlete Leadership Forum, served as Vice President of the Student-Athlete Advisory Committee, and consistently gave back to the community through youth coaching, service events, and campus engagement. Their efforts were recognized with the Skip Pound Service to Athletics Award, a tribute to their spirit of service and dedication. 

In the words of a longtime coach with over 40 years of experience, this student is “the most exceptional young man I have ever worked with”—a true example of academic achievement, athletic excellence, and unwavering character. 

It is with great pride that I announce this year’s recipient of the Outstanding Graduating Senior Award: Gregory Gonyea Junior. 

Distinguished Alumni Award

After several years, a cherished tradition makes its return to Graduation. The recipient of the Distinguished Alumni award will have the opportunity to address the graduating class of 2025. The Distinguished Alumni Award represents the highest accolade an alumnus of the Lyndon Campus can achieve.

This year’s honoree is John Kascenska, who has been an integral part of this campus since 1978 when he first arrived as a student. Following his graduation in 1982, he pursued further studies at Virginia Tech and North Carolina State. In 1992, John returned to Lyndon as a faculty member, subsequently taking on various roles including Associate Academic Dean and Dean of Academic and Student Affairs. Since his return to Lyndon in 1992, he has also been a dedicated member of the Alumni Council, serving two terms as President, and to this day, continues to contribute as a lifetime honorary member.

John has actively participated in the community through various boards, including serving as President of Lyndon Rescue, the Burke Area Chamber of Commerce, and as a trustee of the Northeastern Vermont Regional Hospital, while, in his free time, managing his own business. Recently, John was elected to the Vermont State House, representing ten towns in the Northeast Kingdom, and is a member of the all-important House Committee on Appropriations, which allocates funding to the State University system in Vermont. 

And one last item, John is also a Justice of the Peace, so if anyone is thinking of getting married today, John can take care of that as well, at a discounted rate. 

It is with great pleasure that I introduce my fellow classmate from the class of 1982 and good friend, this year’s Distinguished Alumni award winner, John Kascenska. 

JOHN KASCENSKA:

Thank you, Steve, for the wonderful introduction. I am very honored to receive this award, highly appreciative of my involvement at the Lyndon campus, and for the opportunities I have had throughout my career. And happy to share this graduation day with each of you. 

When I first arrived at Lyndon in the fall of 1978, never did I imagine the professional and personal opportunities that would follow my graduation. Some of those opportunities have been quite challenging in nature, but as I look back in time those challenging experiences have also been the most rewarding ones I have ever had – lessons learned that would lead anyone of us forward in ways that one would not have predicted. Some of those lessons learned are more personal than professional. 

Some years ago, I found myself on an expedition in Alaska with six friends trying to climb a route to the top of Denali…One of those dreams come true to make an ascent on one of the classic climbs in North America first climbed in 1951. At least that was the plan. 

While the route is one of the easiest ones to ascend, we soon discovered we were in for a challenge as soon our ski plane departed for an eventual landing on the Kahiltna Glacier for the start of our journey. During the more than two weeks we were climbing it snowed 9 feet; and high winds were often in the 30 to 50 miles per hour range nearly every day. 

We spent multiple days zipped up in our 40 below zero rated sleeping bags to stay warm in between storms waiting for better weather and taking turns shoveling snow off our tent to prevent it from collapsing. We navigated in white out conditions with absolute precision like our lives depended on it so as to not mistakenly step into a crevasse or fall through a potentially weak snow bridge and possibly drag my teammates right to the edge or worse (it was one of those “looks dangerous, John you go first” moments). 

And we encountered new found friends from Spain on the same climbing route mistakenly un-anchoring their supply sled they were pulling and watching it plummet over a precipice thousands of feet down onto the Harper Glacier…somewhere never to be retrieved. It was easy for our team to step up and give them some supplies that we knew we could spare to help them continue their journey and a possibly summit. 

Despite our best efforts we never made it much past 15,000 feet, nor did our friends from Spain. But, we learned much about persevering through challenging circumstances, working together as team, lending a helping hand to those in need. And we found out after returning to Vermont that particular climbing season in Alaska on Denali that year during the month of May was the worst that been seen since the mid – 1940’s.  

As soon to be graduates of Vermont State University, all of you have plans for the next steps to launch your career not knowing all of life’s events that will transpire to lead you forward in the days that follow this graduation day. Knowing this campus and the amazing instruction you have received and opportunities for personal and professional growth, I am confident that you are well prepared with the education you have received toward rewarding and successful careers. 

My message to each of you today is to grab ahold of the job and career opportunities that come your way. Do your best to to carry out the responsibilities of the professional position that you have; set a good example and think about the productive and positive impact you can have on the people with whom you work everyday. Engage positively with your community (and volunteer for organizations you believe in) and consider the personal impact you can make by lending a helping hand to those in need. 

 It’s not about doing one or two big things, it’s what we choose to know, do, and be like on a daily basis that can be of benefit to those around us. Moving from one’s understanding (that’s the know part), applying and sharing your knowledge (that’s the part we do); and developing best character traits (how we choose to be). 

Thank you so much and congratulations to all of the graduates!