Good afternoon, graduates!

Professor Brown-Dean, thank you for those beautiful remarks.

I also want to thank Deputy Commissioner Carlos, Warden Reis and everyone at Cheshire and the Connecticut Department of Correction for having me back again so soon—it’s a pleasure and an honor to be here.

Thank you to President Roth and the Wesleyan University faculty, as well as the faculty of Connecticut State Community College: Dean Bontatibus, and Connecticut State Community College Middlesex CEO Kimberly Hogan. As both a lifelong educator and a son of Meriden, Connecticut, I appreciate all of Kim’s work for this community. She’s served on the Meriden Strategic initiatives Task Force and helped lead the college through COVID—among other roles. Her commitment to student retention, adult learning, and career pathways has made Connecticut a leader in those areas. Thank you, Kim.

I’m thrilled to be speaking to you today and to witness a moment of incredible accomplishment for the 21 young people about to walk across this stage.

To them, let me start by saying: Congratulations, Class of 2024! Can we give it up for our graduates?

This is my second visit to Cheshire this year. In April, I had the opportunity to tour a TRUE Unit. I visited a cosmetology class and a computer class. I hear Macho is a spreadsheet whiz—though he didn’t tell you that in his beautiful remarks. He’s got pivot tables that track and analyze data about Cheshire—critically in-demand skills all throughout our workforce today.

I got to hear so many of your stories—about your lives before Cheshire, about your experiences with the legal system, and about what it’s like to be part of CPE. I was blown away by all that you’re doing here.

And I also learned that everyone on a TRUE Unit is assigned a mentor—someone who’s been here longer, someone who keeps you on the TRUE path: Truthfulness, Respectfulness, Understanding, and Elevating.

Let’s take a moment to thank the mentors here today. Today is your day, too.

Family members are also with us today. Parents, children, spouses, family, and friends. You’ve all born witness to these graduates’ journeys, cheering them on even as you felt the hole of their absence: the empty seat at the dinner table, the warmth of their hugs, the sound of their laugh. Today, we celebrate you, too.

On my visit here earlier this year, I had the pleasure of speaking with some TRUE Unit members who are here today. I know William Ramirez is here. I remember Will told me that before he became a member of TRUE and enrolled in CPE, he was in a dark place. He didn’t take anything seriously.

It wasn’t until he started pursuing education—earning a G.E.D., joining the TRUE Unit, enrolling in this program with Wesleyan and Connecticut State Community College…that he felt he had any support for his own growth. He formed deep relationships with others and found a community.

Other students spoke to me about the sense of pride they felt here—a feeling many of them had never had before.

They told me that even behind bars, they became free.

Listening to your stories—and to Haywood, Macho, and Duke’s speeches today—I’m reminded of one of my favorite songs.

Marc Anthony’s FlorPálida. Wilted flower. In the song, that flower is enduring a storm like no other, gasping for air, missing its vibrant petals.

By the end of the song, though, that flower has found master gardeners to water it.

“Recuperó el color que había perdido porque encontró un cuidador que la regara.”

The flower recovered its beauty and its color because it found someone to water it.

Think about that word. Recovered. That beauty, those petals? They were there all along.

Like millions of Americans, you found, through education, an expansiveness, a liberation. Your classmates, mentors, and courses were just the water it took to bloom.

That’s why we do what we do at the U.S. Department of Education. I’m proud of the work this administration has done to support new programs like the one at Cheshire. I’m proud that we have expanded Pell Grants for people who are incarcerated, so higher education is in reach for all who are eligible.

It’s what gets me up every day—as Secretary of Education, and as a lifelong educator.

We must continue to grow these programs, so there are more of you in these chairs next year, and more PEP programs in every state.

Over the last several years, I’ve traveled across the country. I’ve given hundreds of quotes and soundbites about the life-changing potential of higher education. I believe it in my bones, I’ve seen it in so many lives, and it always bears repeating.

But all of you receiving your degrees today—your stories are the ultimate, living proof of concept.

And after this ceremony is over, I want you to remember this: your diploma is not your only achievement.

In fact, you have achieved three things here that so many Americans—so many human beings—struggle to realize over the course of a lifetime.

What are they?

First: you have perspective—the kind that only comes when we are truly humbled by our circumstances.

Duke, you spoke movingly earlier about choiceand chance. I was struck by those words.

Every life is the cumulative result of choice and chance.

Mine’s no exception. I wouldn’t be here without the chances others took on me…

…Like that teacher that tapped me on the shoulder in high school and said: “You know, Miguel, you use your artwork to talk about social justice. Why don’t you consider being a teacher?”

And that hit me. And then I became the first one in my family to go to college.

I wouldn’t be here without my grandmother and grandfather—who left the paradise of Puerto Rico for the projects of Connecticut, so their children and their children’s children could have better opportunities than they had.

Our daily lives might be different, but we’re all made of the same stuff. As the proverb goes: “There but for the grace of God go I.”

Or as the lawyer and social justice activist, Bryan Stevenson, reminds us: we’re more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.

We’re more than our worst choices. And sometimes, what looks like good choices were merely lucky chances.

Your lives have taught you that. Your education here has cemented it. You get it.

Do you know how much easier my job would be if more folks in Washington D.C. understood this?

Instead, I often feel like quoting another one of my favorite musical artists, Kendrick Lamar: “Sit down and be humble.”

Second: You have confidence—the kind that only comes when we’ve beaten what seemed like insurmountable odds.

Something Haywood didn’t tell us in his speech is that he completed hisaward-winning honors thesis with limited computer and internet access. His professor called it “a profound work of interdisciplinary philosophical scholarship.”

And Macho—your speech spoke to the work of redefining yourself…of defying stereotypes and myths.

The work all of you have done—in your homework and your classes, yes, but also the inner work—has instilled an unshakeable confidence and sense of self. Here, you’ve defined and redefined yourselves as scholars, brothers, men of character.

Self-identity…the narratives we tell ourselves about ourselves, the stories from the outside world we let get in, and the ones we don’t? That’s powerful stuff.

So many people never do that work. It’s hard work. Painful work. But its rewards are greater than any degree or award.

I hope you always remember that.

Lastly, you have found community.

Haywood told us about finding a home in each other in your unit, and in the program.

Macho told us he’s learned that we can’t be human by ourselves.

I can’t say it much better than that.

I know your lives in the criminal legal system have often felt dark and isolated.

We have a mental health crisis in this country. Millions of Americans—including those who have never encountered the justice system––feel isolated in their own minds and hearts. This has many causes. Loneliness. A deterioration of a social fabric…of civic life. It’s hard for anyone to find the kind of brotherhood you’ve found here. And I know it hasn’t come easy. Your bonds are hard won.

But they are real and they will endure beyond this graduation day… if you make a commitment to take one another with you, to be there for one another.

So, class of 2024: make that commitment. The same way you made the commitment to your studies here. Sometimes, you woke up at 4 in the morning to study for classes to fit in your schoolwork before a full day of work.

Take that person—the one who did that—with you, wherever you go.

Take this experience with you when you’re given new opportunities to bloom, outside of the support system you’ve had here.

Take this with you when you encounter petty politics—and no doubt, you will wherever you go. (Trust me, I work in Washington). Take this with you to court dates, family visitation battles, the daily indignities you’ve all endured and still will.

Take this with you when you encounter folks who have made different choices, who have had different chances—and empower them with the knowledge, wisdom, and community you’ve earned.

Wherever possible, choose substance over small-mindedness as you face these challenges. (I’ve seen the philosophical texts you’ve tackled, so I know you’re capable of substance!)

And that sense of self you’ve found here? That integrity? No one can take that away.

Take it with you.

No matter what you do with your degrees—whether you hang your diploma proudly somewhere you can see it every day, or you give it to your kids so they can remember what you’re really made of, or you pursue further education and employment—I hope you’ll have many more choices, and more chances.

I’m cheering you on as you take them.

Thank you—and congratulations.