Barbara Kingsolver delivers this year's Duke University Commencement address: Take a look. I think you will find it, at the very least, thoughtful. Here are the first two paragraphs. Below is the link.
Let me begin that way: with an invocation of your own best hopes,
thrown like a handful of rice over this celebration. Congratulations,
graduates. Congratulations, parents, on the best Mother's Day gift ever.
Better than all those burnt-toast breakfasts: these, your children
grown tall and competent, educated to within an inch of their lives.
can I say to people who know almost everything? There was a time when I
surely knew, because I'd just graduated from college myself, after
writing down the sum of all human knowledge on exams and research
papers. But that great pedagogical swilling-out must have depleted my
reserves, because decades have passed and now I can't believe how much I
don't know. Looking back, I can discern a kind of gaseous exchange in
which I exuded cleverness and gradually absorbed better judgment. Wisdom
is like frequent-flyer miles and scar tissue; if it does accumulate,
that happens by accident while you're trying to do something else. And
wisdom is what people will start wanting from you, after your last exam.
I know it's true for writers - -- when people love a book, whatever
they say about it, what they really mean is: it was wise. It
helped explain their pickle. My favorites are the canny old codgers:
Neruda, Garcia Marquez, Doris Lessing. Honestly, it is harrowing for me
to try to teach 20-year-old students, who earnestly want to improve
their writing. The best I can think to tell them is: Quit smoking, and
observe posted speed limits. This will improve your odds of getting old
enough to be wise.