Ottawa, Monday, June 18, 2012

Thank you so much for this wonderful recognition. And congratulations to you on all of your achievements at Algonquin College!

As an advocate for education, I know very well the important role colleges and college graduates play in our society. In fact, three weeks ago, I addressed the World Federation of Colleges and Polytechnics’ World Congress, where I said:

“Colleges…occupy a unique position at the nexus of our schools, our workplaces, our communities and our world. Your institutions are rooted in the local, but…your thinking is global.”

The honorary degree I receive today is not just an honour, but also a testament to the work all of you have done in your time here, all that you have learned and all that you have accomplished.   

Many of you may have already heard of Northrop Frye. When I was a young professor at the University of Toronto, he was also teaching there, already a pre-eminent Canadian scholar. One of his remarks at a ceremony of this kind in front of a graduating class was quite interesting. He said of the day that: “This is one of the four epic events in your life, the other three being your birth, your marriage and your death.”

This event is a punctuation mark. It represents a wonderful new chapter in your life. And while your classes at this institution may have ended, I hope you will indulge me in imparting one more last minute lesson. And perhaps if you do not remember these lessons, hopefully you will at least remember a couple of the objects that I have brought with me today to illustrate these points. These props include a watch, a compass, and a tie.

Of course, this lesson begins as most of mine tend to do: with a story.

Picture, if you will, a professor in a first year class on the first day of school. It could be Economics 101 or even Anthropology 101. To the students, he held up a jar that seemed to have nothing in it. He asked, “Is this jar empty or full?” And one student said, “Well, it’s empty, sir.” He picked up the large empty jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks. Again, he asked the students if the jar was full. This time, they agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. Naturally, the pebbles rolled into the open areas between the rocks. He asked the students again if the jar was full. They, again, agreed that it was.

The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. The sand filled up the remaining space between the rocks and the pebbles.

The demonstration, he explained, was like life. The rocks are the important things—your family, your partner, your health, your children, and, yes, even your education. They are your fundamental values, essential in defining who you are. In other words, they are anything that would be so important to you that if they were lost, you would be devastated.

The pebbles are the other things that matter, like a house or car, getting your work done, showing up on time, carrying out your responsibilities to the best of your abilities.

The sand is everything else, the little things in life.

If you put the sand into the jar first, there is no room for the pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your energy and time on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. There will always be time for the little things. Take care of the rocks first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

Or, to put it another way, let me go back to the watch I pulled out earlier. The watch monitors time, but it is also a symbol of our contributions, our effort. It monitors how well we balance things in life.

Back in the classroom, there was one last item on the professor’s desk. One brave student asked, “And what about the can of Coca-Cola?”

The professor smiled and answered, “Never forget to share a cool drink with a friend.” 

Of course, life is more complex than a jar of rocks, pebbles and sand. That is where the compass comes in. The compass is a physical device that helps you find directions. I use it today simply to remind ourselves: we need a moral compass in our life. It isn’t my responsibility to set out these principles for you, but I do encourage you to work out your own philosophy of life and the values that made you the special person you are. After all, when you are confronted with difficult choices, as you will from time to time, the decisions you make will become easier when judged against your own moral compass. Look at being true to yourself and make your choice accordingly.

And remember to always concentrate on the rocks.

I am reminded of when, some two decades ago, Mother Teresa came to Montréal. One of our neighbours, moved by her work with the poor in Calcutta, asked Mother Teresa how she could help. She replied: “Just look around you. In your own neighbourhood there is a family who needs your care and love.”

Shortly afterward, I read a criticism of Mother Teresa’s work. Her shelter in Calcutta gave succour to perhaps 200 people in a city where millions lived in abject poverty. Her work was described as one small drop in an ocean.

Let me explain. My children, aged 2 to 9 at the time, would criticize the entertainment I was providing at their birthday parties. They would ask me, “Why can’t you do a magic show like Dean MacFarlane instead of telling us ghost stories that no one believes?”

At that time, Andy MacFarlane was the Dean of Journalism at the University of Western Ontario, where I was the Dean of Law. Being quite competitive, I attended the next birthday party at the MacFarlane home, where Andy was dressed as a magician, with a long cape and flowing sleeves. He was performing a magic trick, turning water into wine. He took a glass of clear water, raised it in the air, and uttered that magic phrase, “Abracadabra!” He then swept the glass into his sleeves while whirling 360 degrees, surreptitiously adding a few drops of red vegetable dye into the glass, and emerged with a glass of a lovely rose-hued liquid.

At that moment, I realized that Mother Teresa was changing the culture of Calcutta, and indeed that of the world. It was the transformation of the water—not the addition to it—that was improving the lives of so many families.

The shortcomings of this criticism were that we were looking at her work from the point of view of physics, rather than chemistry.

You will find as you go through life, as you find places to give and to work, that you will develop fierce loyalties. This brings me to my last prop: the tie. This particularly tie just happens to bear the symbol of the Governor General’s Foot Guards, the governor general’s very own regiment whose members protect Rideau Hall, the home of the people of Canada.

These people are loyal to that institution and so I wear this tie quite regularly, as I wore the University of Waterloo and McGill University ties in the past. I did so because I was proud. It was part of my inner soul, who I was. I felt privileged to serve those institutions; I felt a loyalty to it.

And it was satisfying to come in each day knowing I was doing what I could to enhance and to strengthen that institution, and to help it do its work better. 

I know that you will find your own meanings when you develop loyalty to an institution or a cause to better your communities and make them stronger. Perhaps Algonquin College is that institution, as a number of universities were mine.

Since my installation as governor general, I have been inviting Canadians to join me in imagining our country as it could be. We strive for a smart and caring nation, where all Canadians can succeed, contribute and develop their talents to their fullest potential. We want Canada to be a country that increases and applies the knowledge of its citizens to improve the condition of all—at home and around the world. 

To achieve this vision, I have set out three pillars: supporting families and children; reinforcing learning and innovation; and encouraging philanthropy and volunteerism.

Just as education shapes us, so, too, do we have the power to shape our communities. In 2017, our country will celebrate the 150th anniversary of Confederation. This occasion is a wonderful opportunity to reflect on the country we desire and to determine how we will go about realizing that vision.

As you embark on this next phase of your life, I want to ask you: what can you do to create smarter, more caring communities? How can you use what you have learned here to not just build a life for yourself, but help others? What will your gift be to Canada for our 150th birthday? 

Thank you once again for this honour. I wish all of you the very best.