I know school has just started, but I’m revved up for graduation. It’s my last year at SMU’s Perkins School of Theology, and I’ve already begun to compare moving truck prices. I’ve even considered what dance moves I will use when I walk across the stage to receive my diploma.

The other day I went to the bookstore to check out diploma frames, and I saw my face in one’s empty glass. I began to reflect on my time at this school: the friends I’ve made, the lessons I’ve learned, and the memories I’ll never forget. As excited as I am about leaving, I’m not sure I’m ready for what the future has in store. I’m not entirely convinced that my diploma proves that I’ve learned the skills needed to make it in the real world.

I remembered a story about an SMU alum whose highly successful company offered a competitive internship to a graduating senior. Instead of the standard interview process, the alum hosted a dinner party open to anyone who felt they had the credentials for the job. One year, twenty students attended with resumes in hand, ready to schmoose. As each student arrived, they made sure to exchange pleasantries with the host, and to size up the competition. Some students, feeling they held no chance against their more esteemed and noteworthy peers, left the party while cocktails and appetizers were being served.

By the end of the four-course meal, the only students left were the cream of the crop, except for one average kid. All the other students had better grades, more experience, and more charisma than the average kid, and he knew it. After the meal, the host invited everyone into the living room for dessert. While all the elite students schmoosed with the host, one of them noticed that the average kid seemed to have slipped out. As the evening came to a close, the students silently agreed that it was time to leave. One student, confident that he was going to receive the job, asked the alum when the applicants would be notified about who would be offered the internship. The alum quickly responded, “Oh, I can tell you who I want at my company right now.” The alum began to describe the average kid who seemed to have disappeared. “With all due respect, sir,” one of them piped up. “He didn’t even stay for the whole party.” “You’re right,” the alum responded. “While we were eating desert, he gathered all the dishes together and placed them in the kitchen. Smart kids are a dime a dozen, but I want to work with someone who has learned one of life’s most valuable lessons, ‘always leave a place better than you found it.”

As I remembered that story, I thought about whether I had done anything to make SMU better than I found it. And in all honesty, I don’t know if I’ve had any real impact on this institution at all. I have certainly done my fair share of complaining about the school, but what if I walked the talk? What if I stopped mocking student government and actually took it seriously by voting and sharing my opinions with my representatives? What if I introduced myself to a lonely student or said “thank you” to the groundskeepers for their service? There are so many little things that I could do to transform my diploma from a fancy report card into a reminder of the burden of all educated people, the responsibility to make this world a better place.

If the future of our would is upon our shoulders, then our present should reflect that we are up to the task.

Let’s face it. The 2007-2008 school year was not as good as it could have been. A lot of things happened that should not have. The number of students who were affected by the realities of drug and alcohol abuse was too many. The amount of hours SMU students gave in service to the greater DFW community was too few. And the time we spent giving lip service to change instead of affecting change was too much.

At the dawn of the school year, some of us wonder whether we can live beyond regret and move on to a new and better day. I choose to believe that I can, and I choose to believe that if we work together we all can. What if we each decided to do one thing that would make SMU better than the way we found it? I can’t imagine what the school would look like come graduation, but I know that we’d be recipients of a diploma worth framing.

Richard Newton is a student at the Perkins School of Theology. He can be reached for comment at [email protected].