President Paula Peinovich, Dean Dan Katz, faculty, family, friends, past graduates and especially today’s graduates of the National Labor College, I am honored to congratulate you and celebrate your journey.
Education is a funny thing, because there are so many ways we learn. School is one way. Work offers other ways. Everyday experiences add to your knowledge base, too. But something special happens when all three of those things come together, when you’ve lived and worked for a good while, and then you take the time to step back for some intensive study.
Ideas aren’t abstract anymore, as they are when you’re young. When you’re older and more experienced, you know the reality behind the concepts, and you can apply them to your work lives.
There’s an old union saying—I’m sure you’ve heard it—that innovation comes from the factory floor. It’s true. It’s another way to say that experience is about the best teacher there is, and one of the best tools to generate ideas.
But innovative ideas can sit unused in your head sometimes. You need a mechanism to apply them to life. That’s why companies have research and development departments. The National Labor College has been many things to many people, and one of those things is an R&D department for our labor movement.
You, each of you, is a walking, breathing illustration of the mission of the Labor College—to train and educate union workers, to enrich work and personal lives and also to develop stronger labor leaders.
And quite frankly, I believe in you and in your future. I know this moment is bittersweet, because the brick-and-mortar days of the National Labor College will soon be behind us. On-line learning will continue for some workers, but the long-term future of the college is what you and our other graduates will contribute to the future of the labor movement.
The labor movement will also be here for you. As you have studied and learned, our movement studies and learns—and we go forward. We never stop. We learn from what works and what doesn’t. Sometimes the lessons are hard—but nothing worth doing is easy, as you can attest.
And let me tell you, if we pursue our shared future with even half the energy and plain old-fashioned stick-to-it-iveness you took to get these degrees, there's no end to what we'll be able to accomplish.
I want to tell you a story. This is for the graduates. It’s also for the wives and husbands, the children and parents who all lent a hand to make this educational journey possible. It’s not a big story—it’s about one of those small moments that come to mean so much in a life.
Some of you might know I’m from Nemacolin, a small town in the southwest corner of Pennsylvania. My father and grandfather and uncles and other relatives and neighbors were coal miners, and those men and women stood together and bargained and suffered and worked to give me the opportunities I had. I owe everything to them, just as we all owe great debts to those who lifted us up.
After high school, I followed my dad into the mines. It was stifling and dangerous down there. The sound bounced off the walls. You’d come out absolutely covered in dust and grime. Don’t even think about what’s in your lungs. My father and grandfather helped me figure out how to work my way through college. It took me seven years, and after that I went on to earn a law degree—working six months and going to school for six months.
A few years later, when I was president of the United Mine Workers, I had been back up to my hometown on union business—probably a safety grievance or something—and I stopped in for dinner at my parents’ house. After we had eaten and talked awhile, I was headed out the door and back to Washington with my friend, Tom.
As we walked past my father on the porch, my dad said, "Wait. Have you got your watch?"
I said, "Yes."
"Do you have enough money?" He was reaching for his wallet.
"Yeah, Dad, thanks," I answered.
He settled back into his chair and said, "OK. Have a safe trip. God bless you."
As I swung the car door shut and we drove away, I felt humbled in a way I can't quite explain. Had I been younger, I might have been impatient or embarrassed, even. There I was—president of the United Mine Workers—and my aging father wanted to make sure I had my watch and some pocket money. And that simple, powerful moment has stayed with me.
I guess if I had to make a parallel with that story, I’d say the National Labor College, our labor movement is like my dad, and you all are like I was, heading out the door to go about my life. It’s beautiful. And I promise you, we are so proud of this institution and what it has accomplished, so proud of you.
It’s not easy to go to college, especially if you’re the first in your family to go, and especially if you’re a non-traditional student, working all day, writing papers half the night. I want you to know that your brothers and sisters recognize how special your degree is, and the learning it represents.
Thank you. And let me give some advice—it's another thing my Dad always told me: Don't let anybody divide you. Fight for what's right. And fight twice as hard against what's wrong.
Brothers and sisters, the working people of this country will take America back. We will rebuild the American Dream. There aren’t any short cuts or easy answers. We’ll do it the hard way, which is also the right way. And we will need each other to do it. Your role is important. And so I ask you, in your own way, by your own lights, to go forward from here to turn your dreams into reality and to be the best union members, the best leaders and the best people you can be.
And like Dad said to me, "Have a safe trip. God bless you."