ĢĒŠÄTV

Rebecca Yao ’26

After I committed to Scripps, my dad’s friend asked me where I was going to school. I said Scripps, so he said, ā€œOh my god, Scripps Oceanography? I love San Diego!ā€ My dad nodded yes. No dad, that’s not that one…. So, it begs the question: What is Scripps actually, if not the Oceanography Institution?

Scripps is a lot of things—a beautiful campus, sure, but for me, it’s the people. I specifically want to thank the BIPOC and queer students in this class. You keep this school running; your labor, care, and commitment to supporting others are undeniably what make Scripps a community.

My time here has been a bit unconventional. Last fall, I took a leave of absence, and leaving Scripps was the best decision I’ve ever made, because leaving made me miss and appreciate the community our unusual school creates. I saw it with some of my friends too—they went abroad, and by the end of it, they were excited to be back with newfound gratitude for Scripps. Nowhere else can you collectively develop the most wonderful and interconnected community/ [slash] L word map. Really, that’s just a testament to how engaged we are in each other’s lives, and how we will continue to be after graduating.

At our unique, intimate school, you can see the president of Scripps on the way to the dining hall. Thanks, President Amy Marcus-Newhall (for your kind introduction). Then you can get in the grill line at Malott to say hi to Enrique or get in the global line to chat with Carlos. Thank you to the Malott dining hall staff for keeping us nourished and for making our days better with your kindness, even during the busiest 12:15 rushes. On the way back to your dorm, you can pass by a golf cart zipping around you. Thanks to the groundskeepers for cultivating the grass we lay on and for making spaces shady. At your dorm, you might greet Alejandra, the building attendant at Clark—thank you to the facilities and maintenance staff for being patient with us as we’ve grown up in these dorms over the past four years. At the end of the day, you might decide you’re hungry and so you take a trip to Trader Joe’s to pick up some snacks, and run into Professor (and dean) Warren Liu (this is a real story, and I chased him down in the frozen food aisle). So lastly, thank you to our professors who let us bother them both inside and outside of the classroom. You know what they say, it takes a village to raise a ĢĒŠÄTV.

Graduating is daunting because we’ll never have the same type of built-in community at our convenience. We’re so lucky to have spent our time together eating meals, lying down on Bowling Green, and brushing our teeth in our friends’ dorms. We’re lucky to laugh, even to cry, and to fight with our friends. We’re lucky to feel deeply in every which way because it means we’re human. And I have no doubt that we’ll be able to recreate these caring, reciprocal relationships that form our beautiful community wherever we go. It’s the relationships around me who have taught me the most, showing me how to care and show up for one another, keeping me accountable, and shaping who I am today.

On one Friday afternoon last semester, I made a grave mistake. The neuroscience emails were annoying me, so I emailed back and asked to be taken off the email list, maybe in not the nicest way). I accidentally replied ALL to an email sent out to the entire student body. Then, I had to sheepishly clock into my shift at the Motley, our student-run coffee shop at the heart of campus. For the next two hours of my shift, my peers came in to get a drink and instead laughed and let me know they saw my email. A girl picked up her drink and said, ā€œThanks! Rebecca Yao, right?….. The one who caused a thirty-six-person email chain?ā€ During my time here, I’ve learned, you can’t run or hide at ĢĒŠÄTV…everyone will know everything about you, and that’s a good thing because then, we hold each other accountable. We’re deeply involved and invested in each other’s lives, and unironically, Emailgate brought me closer to others.

Everything we’ve learned here will be put to good use. After we leave, we’ll be thrown into the real world (unless you’re going to grad school—congrats, by the way). And in the real world, we’ll have to join and build our own communities. They likely won’t be accessible in the same ways. We’ll have to care for one another unconditionally, share resources, and fight for each other. We live in a country where ICE is taking our neighbors and loved ones, where our government is funding a genocide against the Palestinian people, and where the state is constantly waging a war against Black and Brown communities. I especially want to recognize the families who couldn’t be here, or at any Class of 2026 graduation because of ICE, and acknowledge that there is no graduating class in Gaza. Thus, we must remember our place and privilege here. We’re here to protect one another, to support mutual aid efforts, and to resist state repression by any means necessary.

It might seem like a stretch, but acts of care and being in community, showing up for one another even on the local level, will sustain each other’s lives. When we help each other survive, we simultaneously and in turn support social movements and create a liberatory future for everyone.

I’m grateful to be here today with my community and people around us, and also those on the livestream (Professor Honma, if you’re there, leave a comment). I’m forever thankful for all the lessons I’ve learned, and for the opportunity to be and work beside organizers, activists, scholars, and leaders on campus. Even though we got cheated out of the actual centennial graduation, the 99th class of Scripps is equally, if not more, special because of you all.

When I leave, I’ll miss this place…and hopefully, you will too. I’ll miss seeing my friends in Seal Court, making stupid jokes, and hearing about every time someone bumps into their Hinge match at the dining hall. I’ll miss the beautiful and sometimes smelly Motley, my co-workers, and the work they’ve put in to keep the Motley an autonomous space in the face of increased repression. I’ll miss my student government team (thank you, senior class presidents, and executive team), my residents in Clark, and because I failed to mention anything academic, I’ll miss learning and taking incredibly cool classes with you all.

Four years ago, I cried into my noodles at a bad Asian fusion restaurant after a chungus Admitted Students Day. After Commencement, I’ll probably cry into my dinner again at the dinner dance.

But unlike four years ago, I’ll cry tears of joy and appreciation. I am so excited to see the communities you’ll contribute to and cultivate, and the change you’ll make after graduating. Congrats Scripps Oceanography, Class of 2026! I’m kidding.

No seriously, thank you all for being my community these past four years, and congrats, ĢĒŠÄTV Class of 2026!

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