— Payton Hoops, ‘13, Dir of Enrollment Management, Former Trustee
Thank you Tim, and thank you friends, family members, faculty, students and graduates for being here today. It’s truly an honor to celebrate this milestone with you.
I remember so vividly the first time I walked into Watershed. It was 2008 and I was a 6th grade student at Platt Middle School here in Boulder. At the time, Watershed was located at 200 Pearl St., right at the base of Boulder Canyon. It had an intriguing curb appeal; it was a house style building with big windows, and painted a deep forest green. I had a lot of excitement, nerves, and usual for me, questions. My mother and I opened the door and walked in. Right away, I met Alexis, the Front Office Manager, and was struck by her warmth and spirit.
Shortly after, we met with Rebecca, the Admissions Director at the time. Rebecca’s personality was contagious; she was kind, warm, and most of all, incredibly genuine. She believed wholeheartedly in Watershed – the students, the educators, the philosophy, and the overall experience. After an hour of meeting with her, I was convinced that Watershed was going to be the place for me. I said “yes” before ever meeting a single teacher or student. I knew that choosing Watershed was an adventure, it was risky, and it was going to be totally worth it. Fast forward 15 years and a whole lot of life later, I have the immense honor and privilege to be here on this day with all of you.
So many things led up to that big “yes”, and I want to share with you today what brought me to that moment.
Two and half years before walking through the door at Watershed, I was fortunate to spend half of my fourth-grade year living and traveling throughout southeast Asia and East Africa with my three sisters and parents. It was, to this day, one of the most incredible experiences I’ve had. I met some of the most inspiring people and had the opportunity to see new places and engage in new cultures. From exploring the rich architecture and history of Egypt, to traveling on a chicken bus to and from the local school with my host sister in Ghana, I loved every single minute of the adventure. To this day, that trip is one of the most impactful experiences I’ve ever had.
I experienced at a young age what it meant to truly live outside of your comfort zone. I returned home, filled to the brim with curiosity and wonder and a newfound zest for learning and life. But when I returned to school, it became clear that traditional education was no longer engaging me in the way it once had.
I went off to middle school, and sixth grade at Platt was what anyone would expect from a large, public-school experience. It was “fine.” Academics came relatively easy to me, I worked hard, and I enjoyed most of the teachers but I struggled to feel like there was time or room to develop authentic connections. I had a good group of friends, but never felt like I was surrounded by my people. And at the end of each day, I was entirely underwhelmed by the experience. I was looking for something more, and something deeper than what Platt was providing me.
I could not stop thinking about how much I enjoyed being thrown into the unknown while I was abroad, and how much I grew from being uncomfortable. And ultimately, how much I learned from other people, other cultures, and other ways of being. I knew I wanted something different from a school, if that was even possible. Whatever it took, I knew I couldn’t picture six more years of feeling just “fine”.
So, I did what any kid would do with access to the internet and a question in mind: I googled it. Kudos to whoever was in charge of Google keywords back then, because somehow searching the phrase “cool schools in Boulder” brought me to Watershed. That night, I remember calling my parents while they were away on a trip, frantically saying I found the place I wanted to go to school, and that I wanted to transfer there for seventh grade. I’m sure it was an alarming message to receive from an 11-year-old… but they were used to my big ideas and stubborn personality. Being the supportive parents they are, they told me we could explore the possibility. And later that year, I said “yes” to the adventure that was Watershed.
When I first joined Watershed as a student, the school’s core values were Adventure, Challenge, Meaning and Confidence. I remember these so vividly; Watershed put into words the way I wanted to live my life, and what I had been missing. It was the first place to instill in my mind the idea that school could be more than just reading a textbook. School could be a supportive place where you get to learn and grow outside of the classroom, and continually work towards becoming who you are meant to be.
I’ll always remember my first high school orientation trip in the Indian Peaks Wilderness with Pablo as a terrified 13 year old with a pack that was nearly impossible to carry, and how I tried to wash my hair with biodegradable soap in every body of water we came across at night. I’ll remember traveling in a bus to Alabama, Arkansas and Tennessee to explore the history of the civil rights movement, meeting incredible activists along the way and engaging in conversations about privilege, identity, and human rights. And I’ll always remember every Presentation of Learning I did at the end of each semester -- the feeling of accomplishment, pride, and total gratitude for the opportunity to study what truly mattered.
Watershed educators and staff showed me what it meant to really live your values. So, from the earliest days as a student, I decided what was going to motivate me the most was the idea of challenge and meaning. That I would feel fulfilled in my future if I felt challenged, that I would enjoy my pursuits the most if they felt meaningful, and that I would ultimately be the happiest living a life in service of others.
So as I moved through high school and started thinking about what could be next, I felt both excited and overwhelmed. I always felt anxious when anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I “grew up.” Even trying to figure out what I wanted to study in college felt paralyzing. For some reason, the idea of checking the “undecided major” box on my college applications felt less than, as if I hadn’t taken the time to truly figure it out. I felt like I had to make a decision, so I chose to enter college as a pre-med major simply because I loved working with people and was fascinated by medicine. Yet three months into my first year at Colorado College, I had already changed my mind. Though I had this perception that Sociology was the major you declared in college if you didn’t know what else to do, it felt the most right to me. It was an intellectual home, much like Watershed, and I was confident in my choice to pursue it fully.
It turns out that it was right, but four years and a sociology degree later, the question of “what are you going to do next?!” plagued me. Friends and family would ask, “What are you thinking about for a career?” or “Are you considering graduate school?” The truth was, I didn’t know how to answer those questions. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to continue living a life of meaning and challenge. Through that lens, I could imagine so many different lives for myself. There was not one clear path forward, but many.
Here’s what I’ve learned since then, and what I wish I would have known when I was sitting where you are today:
There are those people that know exactly what they want. There are people who have a dream, an idea, a calling that is so profound. The people who’s every decision is calculated, intentional, and designed to help them stay on course. The people that feel so clear in the way they are going to serve this world. I admired and still admire those people. We’ll call them Specialists.
And then there are those who have many ideas. Those people who pursue what they love, take risks, and chase opportunities as they arise. The people whose path is not paved ahead. The people who’s resume ultimately tells a fascinating story about who they are and how they’ve chosen to spend their time. We’ll call them Generalists.
If you couldn’t already tell, I’d consider myself a Generalist. My life thus far has been a grand adventure full of twists and turns. If I were to map out all the places my life has taken me since I graduated from Watershed, it would go something like this: From Colorado Trail Through Hiker to Program Director for a youth outdoor adventure company, to corporate fitness instructor and backcountry guide, to business development director and event producer, to the most meaningful job yet, Director of Enrollment Management.
I’ve been able to live a wild and unexpected life because I’ve said yes to opportunities that presented me with challenges and meaning -- the values most important to me and instilled in me by Watershed. Because I’ve said yes to experiences that stretched me in ways that I couldn't have imagined.
The reality is, I thought the only way to be successful was to be a Specialist. And I’m here to tell you that it’s not.
If you are a Specialist and you’re sitting here today with an iron plan, I applaud you. The world needs doers and drivers of your kind. Stay committed, but stay flexible. The reality is, life is unpredictable. No matter how calculated your path may be, there will likely be a twist and a turn along the way. Changing your course is not failure. Know that your drive will lead you to great places, and you have what it takes to make an impact in more ways than you can imagine.
And if you’re a Generalist, whose path is not always clearly paved ahead, know these two things:
Success is personal and most certainly not linear. It’s much easier to trust yourself and trust the process than to try and commit to a way of living and being that does not feel authentic to you. Ask yourself, what matters the most? What are my core values? Let those answers guide you in your steps forward and know they will lead you to a place of purpose.
I want to share with you a poem that’s near and dear to my heart. I’ve shared this with every group of students I’ve been lucky enough to take into the backcountry over the past 10 years, so some of you sitting here today might remember it. It’s called The Invitation by Oriah.
It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life’s betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, ‘Yes.’
It doesn’t interest me to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn’t interest me who you know or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
So as you all sit here thinking about what lies ahead, I challenge you to be courageous enough to take the road less traveled, whether you are a Generalist or a Specialist. To pave your own path forward and to live fiercely in pursuit of what lights you up.
I challenge you to be courageous enough to admit when something isn’t what you thought it would be, and to allow yourself the grace to change course.
And lastly, I challenge you to be courageous enough to trust that you have the foundation from Watershed to lead you wherever you want to go.
Congratulations Class of 2023, the best is yet to come.
