AVĚěĚĂÍř

This May, we celebrate not just our degrees but the incredible journeys that brought us to this moment. When I first arrived here in August 2023, fresh from Ghana, I was excited, but I was also terrified. Everything was new. The food was different, the weather was colder, and, as an international student, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had made the right decision.

Nestled within that uncertainty was something beautiful: the possibility to build a home. And that’s exactly what these last two years have been—brick by brick, step by step, I built a home here. A home that nurtured me, challenged me, and ultimately allowed me to flourish.

Let me take you back to my first semester. When I arrived, we were informed that for my program we could only take three courses the first semester. Just three? As someone who had taken eight courses at a time back in Ghana, I thought, “Three courses? That’s nothing! Let me take five and show them how it’s done.”

Then I walked into my first class: Math for Data Science. We were told, “For every hour of class, you’ll need to study for three hours outside of class.” I thought, “Three hours? That’s an exaggeration. I’ll be fine.”

By the end of the first month I realized they were not exaggerating. Math for Data Science — advanced algebra, advanced calculus, and coding, too — was no joke. I struggled. I spent late nights trying to figure out concepts that refused to make sense. Then there was Dr. Omar Hijab, the professor for Math for Data Science. I was always in his office, asking him question after question. And on days when I didn’t ask questions in class, he would notice. One day, he came up to me and said, “I have office hours this week. Which day works for you?”

That moment meant the world to me. It reminded me that I wasn’t invisible, that someone saw my struggle and cared enough to help me. It’s a lesson I’ll carry with me always: no matter how big the challenge, there’s always a way forward when you have the courage to ask for help.

The challenges didn’t stop there. During our orientation, we had a Q&A session, and I raised my hand and asked a question that I’m sure many of us have asked ourselves at some point: “How are we supposed to do it all? How are we supposed to go to class, get good grades, participate in activities, and find jobs?” I don’t even remember the answer that was given. What I do remember is that from across the room, Ms. Dorothy Classen, an international student life advisor, told me to make an appointment to see her.

Today, we wear these caps and gowns not just as a symbol of our achievements, but as a testament to our resilience and courage. Fali Honutse ’25 M.S.

That was the start of a relationship that carried me through my time here. I visited her almost every week in my first semester — sometimes just to ask for a hug. And she always gave me one. After my first midsemester exams, she even texted me to ask how they went, because she knew how worried I had been. Her kindness reminded me that no matter how far from home I felt, I wasn’t alone.

Then there was Dean Rowe-Allen, vice president of student affairs and dean of students, whose smile was always a source of encouragement. Every time I saw her, I felt like I belonged. These small but powerful gestures, from Dr. Omar, Ms. Dorothy, and Dean Rowe-Allen among countless others, were the bricks that built my home here at the AVĚěĚĂÍř.

My fellow graduates, I know many of us share similar stories. Some of us are international students, and we left behind the comfort of familiarity to build a future in a place that sometimes felt like it wasn’t made for us. But together, brick by brick, we built homes here.

We leaned on each other during late-night study sessions. We formed friendships that crossed cultures, languages, and borders. And we discovered resilience we didn’t know we had.

For me, resilience meant carving out a path when I felt there was none. It meant staying in the library until the final announcement that it was closing, and sometimes pushing through sleepless nights, tirelessly debugging a stubborn piece of code, even when every part of me wanted to give up. It meant finding courage in moments of doubt, leaning on friends, professors, and mentors, and remembering why I came here in the first place.

And now, here we are, graduates of the Class of 2025. We’ve faced endless assignments, tough exams, and moments when we doubted ourselves. Yet, we persevered. Today, we wear these caps and gowns not just as a symbol of our achievements, but as a testament to our resilience and courage. As we move forward, I want to leave you with three lessons I’ve learned during my time here:

• Resilience is a skill, not a trait. It’s something you build, brick by brick, moment by moment.
• Community is everything. None of us made it here alone. As we step into the world, let’s carry that sense of community with us.
• Courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s taking the next step, even when the path is uncertain.

To my fellow graduates: let us be the builders of homes wherever we go. Let us create spaces where people feel seen, heard, and valued. Let us use the lessons we’ve learned here to make the world a more compassionate place.

To the AVĚěĚĂÍř, thank you. Thank you for being my bridge from uncertainty to self-discovery. To the faculty and staff — thank you for seeing us, believing in us, and guiding us when we needed it most. To my friends — thank you for the late-night talks, the shared struggles, and the laughter that kept me going. And to my family — thank you for cheering me on from across oceans and time zones. You have been my compass and my unwavering source of strength, and your love has been the foundation of everything I’ve achieved.

Congratulations, Class of 2025. We did it. Now, let’s go out into the world and keep building.

Fali Honutse ’25 M.S., who will receive her master’s degree in data science, was a finalist to serve as a student speaker at Commencement. The content above is based on the speech she delivered as part of the competitive process to select the student Commencement speakers.