In December of 2015 the most flattering and terrifying thing happened to me: I was asked to give a commencement address. Spoiler alert: I survived.
I’m posting the transcript from the speech I gave at Northwestern’s Medill School graduation, mainly because it’s the height of graduation season, but also as a reminder to myself to practice what I preached.
I can’t tell you how honored and humbled I am to be here. First, a huge thanks to Dean Hamm and the great folks at Medill for inviting me to come to Evanston today. It’s really amazing to be back here with the outstanding faculty and staff who help make Medill tick day in and day out. Thank you for everything you do to help make Northwestern and Medill a place you truly want to come back to.
But the stars of today’s show are the graduates. Congratulations to all of you! You’ve weathered many quarters of early mornings, long days, late nights, a crappy diet, no exercise, writer’s block, insomnia, stress, anxiety — in other words, the best couple of years of your lives! Seriously though, great job. I know first hand how much work it takes to get to this point. It’s a huge accomplishment, and you should feel proud. Exhausted, but proud.
I’d also like to acknowledge the husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, partners, parents, kids, siblings, and friends here today who helped get these graduates over the finish line. I’m sure you’ve each played banker, tutor, editor, chauffeur, and psychologist along the way, so congratulations to you for enduring the best couple of years of their lives.
But enough about you, let’s talk about me.
Full disclosure: I’ve never given a commencement address. Sure, I do a lot of public speaking for my job, and recently they’ve paid me to talk on TV. But that’s pretty easy.
Not this.
The turmoil and trauma that comes with writing a graduation speech is the real deal, especially when it’s your alma mater. I mean, if you were 22 year old undergraduates this would be smooth sailing, namely because you’d likely be hungover. Under those conditions, I could say anything so long as it wasn’t too loud. But you’re not 22 year old undergraduates. You’re mature, discerning graduate students, who by now should be able to hold your liquor.
So as an alumnus, my number one goal is to conclude this speech without any of you questioning your decision to get a master’s degree from Northwestern. As a human, my number one goal is to conclude this speech without receiving bomb reviews on Twitter. But seriously, I promise to try and make a point.
So in thinking about what I wanted to say, I reflected a lot on my experience here at Northwestern and, in particular, the IMC program. It was here that I learned, among so many things, the power of storytelling. That said, let’s take a trip down memory lane…
It felt like every lecture by Frank Mulhern was an amazing fireside chat. John Greening’s master classes in advertising got me so excited about helping brands tell their stories, especially after hearing about his legendary work with Anheuser-Busch. And then there was Paul Wang, who magically taught the principles of marketing through artistic and seemingly far-fetched analogies, such as the story of Maya Lin and her conviction when designing the controversial Vietnam Memorial. It was 2 years of a lot of ‘wow’ moments thanks to those guys.
So in preparing for today, your graduation day, I was thinking about my experiences in the classroom and since graduating that have impacted who I am and how I act. I haven’t had the most conventional journey, but I’m so grateful for the different twists and turns I’ve encountered throughout my professional path.
Then I started thinking about ‘paths’, and that reminded me of a wonderful children’s story called Harold and the Purple Crayon, written by Crockett Johnson in 1955. If you’re not familiar, I highly recommend getting a copy for your desk or bookshelf, or at least Googling it on your phones that most certainly aren’t turned off right now.
Children’s books are fascinating, namely because they often and aptly reflect the trials and tribulations of adult life. So today I thought I’d share some of my personal experiences through the lens of Harold and his purple crayon. Hopefully you’ll find a little wisdom in what I share and apply it as you continue on your own journey.
For those unfamiliar, the Reader’s Digest version of an already short story goes like this: Harold is an imaginative 4 year old boy who uses his purple crayon to draw adventures for himself. He starts out wanting to take a walk in the moonlight, so he draws a moon and a straight path to follow. But soon after he starts his journey he becomes bored, so he draws himself a detour off that straight path. Along the way he creates a series of dilemmas, but then quickly uses his purple crayon to draw himself out of those jams. Despite all the changes, the moon he drew in the beginning follows him every step of the way, eventually helping him get back home. Pretty simple, but I’m going to unpack it a bit from my perspective.
The story has a few important symbols thread throughout that are relevant to you. Let’s first talk about Harold’s crayon. Think of the crayon as an embodiment of your resourcefulness — the things you’ve learned that enable you to solve problems and help draw out a path to success. It’s sturdiness represents your hard skills. It’s warm and cool hues represent your soft skills. And as luck would have it, Harold’s crayon is purple, naturally paying tribute to the amazing Northwestern experience you’ve just completed.
Next, I want to talk about two other important symbols: Harold’s path and the concept of the traveling moon. Let’s start with his path. What Harold does is essentially what we all do: we map out our professional and personal lives with what I describe as linear rigor. But here’s the thing: veering off course is okay! Taking risks and chances is part of the journey, and often the parts of the path with the most resistance end up teaching us the most.
My path wasn’t very straight. I wasn’t the prototypical graduate student in the IMC program. The majority of my classmates had several years of valuable business experience, but I had spent those same years as a division 1 volleyball coach. I was definitely successful, but I had veered off of the sports marketing path I mapped out to take advantage of another opportunity that felt right: coaching.
But after a few years I knew it was time to head in another direction, and IMC proved to be the professional Waze or Apple Maps I needed to find a new course. I was fortunate to be allowed to shape my IMC experience as I needed to: I spent half my time in Evanston with the full-time crew, the other half downtown with the part-time students. Even the IMC portion of my path wasn’t particularly straight. But it worked out perfectly for me, and I’m grateful I got to experience the best of both worlds.
Ok, back to the symbols. I’ve discussed Harold’s crayon and his path, so let me talk about the moon he draws that follows him. In today’s context, think of the traveling moon as a representation of the values most important to you that are omnipresent. But if your moon starts to fade, it’s probably time to ask yourself tough, important questions: are you in the right place or with the right people? Are you feeling truly fulfilled? Do you believe in what you’re doing?
I’ve had to ask myself those same questions.
When I made the decision to leave coaching, I struggled. My moon was dimming, so I thought I had made a wrong turn. But I entered the IMC program, which helped to restore the shine thanks to all the great educators and classmates who opened my eyes to so many new and diverse things. IMC also helped me understand that coaching was a really valuable experience because it embodied my passions — teaching, leading, building strategies, solving complex problems, and being creative. The reality was I just needed to travel with my moon into a new setting. But the onus was on me to keep drawing out my journey, and I did. I was on a new path with a steadfast moon acting as my north star. And my crayon was sharper and bolder than it had ever been thanks to the IMC experience.
Okay, let’s check back in our friend Harold. I mentioned his series of dilemmas. Later in the story he draws a dragon in an effort to help protect himself. But the dragon ends up being mean, scaring Harold and causing him to back away. Trying to protect himself, he inadvertently draws himself underwater. That doesn’t work, but he manages to draw and climb aboard a sailboat, which guides him back to land and solid ground. The punchline here is pretty simple: he got in over his head, but he managed to bail himself out.
I can certainly relate.
I’ve had instances in my career where I thought I had everything perfectly mapped out, but then decisions were made above me or out of my control that totally disrupted my plans. They were usually the right choices made for the good of the business, but it’s hard to appreciate that in the moment. When things like that happen, there’s no sugar coating it: it sucks. Not getting a promotion you’re banking on or feeling left out of an important opportunity or experience bruises the ego. And candid feedback — while so incredibly valuable and necessary — can sting. It’s easy to recoil and get defensive when being told you didn’t do such a great job. But like Harold, you have a simple choice: you can get tangled up in the disappointment or you can bail yourself out.
Learning to quickly embrace challenging business decisions with a positive attitude will pay dividends long term. Complaining or wallowing is the fastest way to erode your reputation and help justify why those bummer choices were made. The best bet: accept it, draw yourself the high road, move forward, and learn from it.
Message delivery is also really important, especially when having to make a tough choices. When you become a leader, being popular or best friends with your team shouldn’t be the goal, and actually makes life harder. But turning the other cheek in the face of a screw up is even worse. Help your people sharpen their own purple crayons by being be honest and forthright, and expect the same from them in return. A friend and mentor of mine, Kim Malone Scott, a revered Silicon Valley executive, leader, and professional coach, developed a framework and is writing a book called Radical Candor. In it she shares her theory on the best way to give feedback as a manager, which is all about finding the sweet spot of caring personally and challenging directly. I highly recommend checking it out, but I’ll share one thing she says that I love so much: “put your own oxygen mask on first.” What she means is you can’t possibly give a damn about others if you don’t give a damn about yourself. In other words, don’t forget about your own moon and your own purple crayon.
Ok, so back to the story. Later on Harold decides to draw a hill to climb. He then realizes the higher he draws the hill, the better he can see. As you can imagine, the hill quickly becomes a mountain. The climb was exciting and he kept aiming higher. But the funny thing about chasing success is that nothing is ever good enough. Getting a promotion or a raise feels great in that moment, but then your mind often leaps to what’s next. And as Northwestern graduates, I’m here to tell you: you will be restless.
So here’s what I’ve learned: it’s great to be ambitious and strive for growth in your career, but don’t let only the extrinsic rewards guide you. Money, title, power — those aren’t your moon. They’re like bright shiny stars, but they can fade away pretty quickly. And make sure the mountain you draw isn’t too steep and that you’re not climbing too fast. Be sure to look back and off to the sides, and pay respect to those who helped get you a little further along. Take your time, have patience, and always keep learning.
A lot of people will hear about my background or see my Linkedin profile and assume the success was automatic and achievement came in a swift, linear fashion. On the contrary! I have taken plenty of lumps along the way, waited my turn, made numerous left and right turns, and have taken a step back here and there in order to step ahead. I’ve also felt the whiplash of a number of company reorganizations. In some cases I had to accept a new role that I wasn’t my first choice. Other times I had to fire some hard working people. And let me tell you, during those experiences I didn’t feel so successful. But, if you embrace uncomfortable change and put your energies into being the best you, then that path you’re on will become a little clearer. And I promise, you’ll learn so much from those downtrodden experiences.
One of my dear friends and a professional mentor is Sarah Robb O’Hagan, the former president of Equinox and Gatorade and a venerable leader in sports business. She has been such a valuable sounding board because she openly acknowledges her failures that are often shadowed by her towering successes. She once said in an interview “you have to go through the pain…to get the resilience you need later on.” In other words, no matter how hard you try, the path won’t be straight and perfect. But embrace all of it — even your mistakes. Remember: crayons don’t erase!
And while you don’t want your mountain to be too steep, don’t be afraid of a challenging slope. Lateral moves are perfectly fine, but I always recommend pursuing opportunities that are a little bit taller and make you feel a little bit nervous. It’s sort of like dating. If it feels like it might be out of your league, go ahead and take the chance — you’ll never know who might say ‘yes’. We often hesitate pursuing something bigger due to the fear of failure, but if you’re hungry for it go for it, regardless of the outcome. You’ll learn so much more about yourself simply from the exploration.
When I had the opportunity to move with Twitter to Europe it was super exciting, but also terribly nerve-racking. Me? Could I really help build our business across a whole region from the ground up? Would I be a good manager when no one on my team was an American? Would my humor I used as a go-to translate in all these different countries? Would I like the food?
But I did it, and it was the best experience because I challenged myself professionally and personally. That part of my purple path was just steep enough, and I’m so glad I decided to make the climb. And wouldn’t you know it, the moon traveled across the Atlantic Ocean with me.
Which brings me back to a final point about our boy Harold. At the end of his story he is desperately trying to find his bedroom window. Despite all of his magnificent adventures, he wants the comforts of home. But he’s lost. Then he notices the moon, and that reminds him that through his bedroom window he always can see the moon. He diligently draws his bedroom window around the moon, and then he draws his bed. He climbs in, tucks himself in, puts the purple crayon down, and drifts off to sleep.
So that’s the deal: sometimes the path is unclear, and you may even get a little lost, but remember to look to your moon you’ll feel grounded again. Stay true to yourself and to what motivates you and you’ll ultimately feel at home.
And when you’re home, be home. Cook a great dinner. Get at least 6 hours of good sleep. Take vacations that last more than 2 days. Turn off your phone after 8pm. Watch a great Netflix show. Read a book (like an actual book). Get involved in things you’re interested in and passionate about above and beyond your full-time job that help you learn and grow. Volunteer. Join a board. Become an adviser. Come back and talk to students at Northwestern. Strive for balance — I promise it will help make your crayon a little sharper and help your moon glow a little brighter.
I joked about the crayon being purple because of Northwestern, but in reality the author chose purple because that represented adventure to him. Life will continue to be an adventure for you, and I’m so excited for the adventurous purple path you’ll create for yourselves. So with that, I’ll leave you with two things:
First, a simple mantra I’m borrowing from my team at Twitter that I’ll pay forward to you today: dream big, do big, act big. Take everything you’ve learned these last couple of years and go make a difference.
Next, a purple crayon. I have one for every graduate today. I hope you’ll keep this somewhere as a reminder to keep imagining, keep creating, and keep inventing things for yourselves. In other words, never stop drawing.
So congratulations to the graduates of the class of 2015. Good to luck to all of you. Thank you for listening, happy holidays, and Go Cats!
