这是学生代表Emma Werowinski在罗德岛设计学院2018毕业典礼上对几千学生及家长亲朋和教师的致辞。我看到一代人的责任和勇气。一代人的情怀。Congratulations. 

Thank you Provost Costantino, President Somerson, faculty, staff, family, and friends,

I know graduation speeches are supposed to be about good vibes, poetic references to amusing RISD stereotypes, and advice for the future. But, this is the Rhode Island School of Design (and Craft and Art), and if I know anything about artists, it’s that we try our best to do the opposite of what is expected of us. So, true to that reputation, this is my break up letter to you, RISD. 

Dear RISD, we need to talk. And please don’t act like you didn’t know this was coming.   Yes we’ve had lots of meaningful memories: happy, sad, oddly poetic, silly, strange, aggravating, tearful, coffee-ful, and artful. I'll always remember our time together as a special time in my life.  But, some things have been bugging me, and I need to get them off my chest. Not just for my own sake, but to help you become a better institution that fulfills its promise to serve everyone who comprises it, because deep down I will always love you.

Lately I find myself asking, who is the Rhode Island School of Design? You were born in 1877. I think I heard that you’re a Pisces. Your mission statement is, “to educate your students and the public in the creation and appreciation of works of art and design, to discover and transmit knowledge and to make lasting contributions to a global society through critical thinking, scholarship and innovation.” Over the years, you have grown up into what many call the number one school of art and design in the country, and you often proudly wear this distinction, as you should! But do you have to keep carrying your trophy around all the time?

Our relationship has always been based on healthy dialogue, what we call critique: learning from each other by looking, listening and providing helpful feedback. I believe it’s best not to go around complaining about something without concrete ways in which you want the situation to change. So, here are a few ideas. 

One, if you want to make positive change in the world, and teach your students to do the same, you must start by looking at yourself. Just be transparent; share the progress you are making and acknowledge when you make mistakes. It’s okay to be honest about what’s going on. We all have flaws because we’re all human. Claiming and revealing those flaws is a strength that makes progress possible. 
    
Two, could you try to be less selfish sometimes? First, share your resources with your surrounding community. Next, give your students more concrete opportunities for interdisciplinary collaboration and discussion. That means access to more classes and equipment, and dedicated academic time to collaborate with peers in different majors. 
I don’t know why we need to keep saying this to you. Students are frustrated with feeling stuck in individual departments. We shouldn’t have to fight with you to be able to learn more. Imagine the interdisciplinary projects that don’t exist yet.

Three, you need to pick a day for all your lofty plans. You have so many wonderful traits and big ideas, but where is the action? Sometimes, it feels like we’re driving around, passing 60 mph speed limit signs and still only going 30 mph. I know that change takes time but what is the point of endlessly discussing ideas before they finally get written up into a document that barely has a timeline? We want to be able to trust you to do what you say you’re going to do. And while you’re at it, could you please put your hands back on the wheel? 

Four, sometimes all you need to do is just listen. Let’s not forget, I’ve paid for all the dates. I would hope that you would at least ask for my opinion when making big decisions. Why is it always a student who must ask for your attention and never the other way around? You have the responsibility to listen to what you are doing wrong, and then to improve. I know you are capable of it because you have the resources and the caring faculty and staff to do so.

RISD, I know it isn’t fair to compare you to others, but by contrast, my peers work tirelessly, writing endless emails to administration and sitting in meeting after meeting to try and make you a better institution for students and our larger communities.

We students planned interdisciplinary critiques to give space to projects and ideas that go beyond departments.
We collaborated outside of class to make work that was meaningful to us.
We shared supplies and taught newly learned skills to our peers.
We brought guest speakers of diverse backgrounds and perspectives.
We politely explained to professors when words and the lack of words were hurtful.
We reminded each other that physical and mental health is always more important than schoolwork.
And we took action to organize, to ask, and to demand that RISD change and continue to change for the better.

I want to honor the labor of my peers to help you, labor that often goes unnoticed, unacknowledged and unpaid. We would rather look up to you as a role model; you are at least a hundred years older than all of us! I think it’s about time that RISD took a page from its students. 

As all of us look out into the world and wish and hope for our larger social, political, and economic institutions to do better, we must continue to pay attention, to critique, and to question everything, especially if it is paying us. We cannot run away from difficult questions and hard work. Progress comes from action and from pushing for change at multiple scales simultaneously, from individual people to community organizations to institutional policy. Institutions, whether good or bad, are not going away any time soon.  We have to push them from outside, figure out how to change them from inside, and encourage them to change themselves. 

Rhode Island School of Design (and Craft and Art), I’ll always have a special place in my heart for you. I won’t deny that over the course of our relationship, I have seen you make some changes, and I know that developing and implementing solutions takes time. I learned this from you, and it was a good lesson. Thank you for teaching me a lot about textiles, showing me how to critique better, giving me so much material for institutional critique projects, and bringing together this wonderful group of people that I have the honor to call my peers. But our time has come to a close. The warp has run out.

To end this break up letter, I will add: don’t be sad because it’s over, be glad that it happened. I hope my words will help you move forward in the future, and don’t worry; I know that you will find someone else. When you do find that person, I want you to do better by them. I hope we can still be friends.

And to you, dear audience, thank you for listening. To every person both here and at home who supported us students on this journey – I am deeply grateful. I want you know that I would have preferred to write a love letter to my peers for their courageousness, humor, constant kindness, critique when it was needed, hugs on Benefit Street and in line in Carr Haus, and for so many eye opening and wonderful conversations. Until we meet again, congratulations and thank you.