Dear graduates:

You’ll undoubtedly receive cards that tell you today is the first day of the rest of your life. That’s true; every day is. This one, though, means a little more. Graduation implies progressing from one level to the next. Commencement suggests a new beginning. You won’t get many chances to start over, so take advantage of this one.

You’re pro-bably going to hear a lot of inspirational lectures about your responsibilities. Go forth and make us proud. Make something of yourself. We’ve given you all these advantages; now it’s your turn to make a contribution to the world.

I’m here to tell you something entirely different, something you might not hear from anyone else: It’s all about you.

From now on, your life isn’t going to be guided by the expectations of parents or teachers. It doesn’t have much to do with them. Sure, they’ll care. They want you to do well, but they’ve given you all they had to give. What happens next is up to you.

Why should that matter? To begin with, they’re not going to be watching your every move, so adolescent rebellions suddenly become pointless. You’ll now have the freedom to drink yourself senseless or even lifeless; maybe you ought to think about why you’d do a stupid thing like that. You’ll get to make your own choices about substance abuse. It will still be self-destructive, but it will be entirely up to you, because nobody’s going to babysit you any more.

You’ll be free to turn your stereo up as loud as you want; the only difference is that now you’ll be alienating your neighbors, who may also be your friends, instead of your parents’ neighbors. You can, if you choose, have sex with perfect strangers, although you ought to consider that perfect people don’t have sex with strangers.

Still, that’s not going to be any of our business. You’re on your own now. Your parents aren’t going to hassle you about finishing your homework, and neither will your professors. If you don’t get it done, it’s your problem and no one else’s. If your dorm room is a pigsty, no one’s going to muck it out for you. If you can’t pay the rent, you’ll have to get a job.

And then you’ll have to show up for work every day, under your own steam. Nobody’s going to roll you out of bed and fix your breakfast. Nobody’s going to listen to your excuses, either. Employers don’t care whether you had a flat tire; they care only that you’re where you’re supposed to be, on time, doing the job you’re paid to do. In return, you’ll get a paycheck. It’s called commerce; it’s the way the world works.

As to what you owe the world, that depends on you. You can, if you wish, go through your entire life without volunteering a moment of your time or contributing a cent of your money. On the other hand, you can devote your life to making this world a better place, not because people are watching but because you genuinely care. If you don’t care, there’ll be no community service requirement to push you.

For 18 years, give or take a few months, well-meaning people have been telling you what to do. We hope you’ve listened. We hope you’ve understood what they’ve been saying, because the world needs you. We need you to take responsibility for yourself and those who need your help, just as your parents, neighbors and teachers have been shown responsibility for you.