McIntire professor urges graduates to ‘enjoy the drive’

[Sherri Moore speaking]

Thank you. Thank you, Mr. Rector, members of the Board of Visitors, President Beardsley, deans, distinguished faculty, and staff, families, friends, and most importantly, the remarkable graduates of the Class of 2026. Well done.

I am so honored to be here with you today. Well done!

But I do have a little bad news. I have one more quiz for you before you leave here. Now, I do not know if any of you recognize what I have in my hand.

No? See if this helps? No? Any clues?

OK, no fair if you are the 73-year-old graduate, you don’t get to vote, you know what this is.

This is a roadmap. This roadmap is an ancient device once responsible for testing the strength of countless marriages before GPS arrived on the scene.

It is basically Google Maps – except “recalculating” usually involved a lot more yelling.

And sometimes – actually … often – we got lost.

We had to pull over, unfold the map, figure out where we went wrong, and try to reroute.

In many ways, if you think about it, it is exactly like life.

Our future is not a perfectly planned-out GPS route. There is no highlighted shortcut. There is no blue beam telling us – right? – where we are and which way we are headed. There are no warnings about the obstacles ahead.

Instead, life routinely confronts us with challenges that become part of our DRIVE.

Our DRIVE?

Doubt.

Rejection.

Insecurity.

Vulnerability.

Endings.

Now, the challenge itself is rarely the story because every life encounters difficulty. What defines our story, though, is how we choose to go in which direction, the direction we choose to face when these moments present us.

And that’s where our DRIVE begins, with doubt – the “D” in Drive

Doubt urges us to pull over when there’s uncertainty. Courage tells us to keep going. My grandfather had that courage. He grew up on a small Greek island in the late 1800s with very few resources and very little opportunity.

So as a teenager, he boarded a ship; he had no idea where he was headed – but he knew that wherever it was, it was better than where he was.

And he had the belief – and the hope – that it would become something better.

Now, during that journey, he discovered something that would shape the rest of his life: Education creates opportunities where none previously existed.

And by the time he arrived at Ellis Island, he spoke six languages, eventually building a successful career as an interpreter.

And when the Great Depression took nearly everything he had worked for, he learned the one thing they couldn’t take was his education; no circumstance could take that away from him.

And with that, he was able to rebuild. And give my father the opportunity to attend not only UVA undergraduate but law school as well.

My father never forgot his father’s sacrifices that made his opportunities possible. And through that experience, he came to another invaluable realization about education: Talent exists everywhere. Opportunity does not.

So, he decided to do something about it.

He created a free night school for working adults seeking a second chance through education.

That small night school became John Tyler Community College – now Brightpoint.

And years later, while my father was in the hospital, he thanked his nurse for being so kind and so compassionate with him, because he could be really ornery.

And she gently took his hand and said: “No, Mr. Eliades… it’s I who owe you thanks. You see, without the scholarship that I received in your father’s name, I never would have been able to attend Brightpoint and become a nurse.”

So, what began as one simple belief – that education could change a future – has now opened doors for thousands of families who once believed those doors would never be open to them.

And in many ways, that story now belongs to you.

Some of you crossed oceans to get here, as we have already talked about. Some of you became the first in your families to walk this path. And some of you looked around during your first week here and thought: What am I doing here?

When you are surrounded by extraordinary people – and at UVA, you truly are – it becomes very easy to assume everyone else is more confident, more accomplished, somehow managing life much better than you are.

At a place where the student sitting next to you casually mentions that they conducted research, leading two organizations, trained for a marathon, pursued three majors and interviewing for internships all before breakfast … it is understandable to occasionally wonder if you accidentally missed that orientation session called: “How Everyone Else Got Their Life Together.”

But what many of you eventually discovered was that almost everyone around you was carrying that same doubt.

Because even at UVA – behind the résumés, the accomplishments, and the LinkedIn profiles that somehow make every student sound like a CEO of a small country – many people were quietly asking themselves: “Do I really belong here?”

And yet, you kept on moving.

You balanced relentless pressure, expectations, internships, athletics, leadership positions, research projects, family responsibilities, and yes, for many of you, significant financial stress.

You embraced the fact that confidence is not built by never questioning yourself – it’s built by refusing to let doubt define your direction.

You also came of age during a period of enormous uncertainty and constant change – learning how to adapt in a world evolving faster than any generation before you.

And through it all, you proved that you are among the most talented, driven, and capable young people in the world.

But as my father understood, extraordinary ability and opportunity carry with them responsibility. Responsibility to USE your talents not only for personal success, but to help address the challenges confronting our society, our nation, and our world: rapid technological change, economic uncertainty, global conflict, climate change and ethical questions surrounding artificial intelligence.

Now, many of you have already answered this call, right? Many of you have done it through the hospitals or in free clinics, the Legal Aid Justice Center, Engineering Without Borders and other service projects that changed your perspective and taught you something invaluable: Purpose has a way of quieting doubt.

So, while technology may continue to transform the way we live and work, it will never replace the qualities that make us human.

Your worth will never be defined by the speed of your responses, but instead by the strength of your character, the depth of your compassion, your capacity to love and be loved.

By your ability to laugh at yourself, and by the humanity you bring to the lives of others.

Be confident in this truth: No machine will ever truly replicate these qualities.

Interestingly enough, every time I ran this thing through AI, it kept deleting that line. I don’t know. So, just so you know, Claude and I, we have officially broken up. Not happening.

So, Claude – for my husband – that is AI honey, so don’t worry.

Which brings us back to our DRIVE – and to the “R”: Rejection.

The part of life that usually arrives uninvited.

The job we wanted – but didn’t get. The relationship we believed was the one – that ends. The plan we carefully envisioned - that suddenly falls apart.

And in those moments, it’s easy to confuse a detour with a dead end.

I learned that lesson when I was about your age, those of you in the way back, when UVA Law School sent me a letter, very different from the letter he got. My letter said:

“No, thank you.”

Which is law-school language for: We wish you the very best … just somewhere else.

And at the time, I was genuinely confused by the decision. I thought to myself, “Did they somehow miss –  right? – that I was the complete package?”

• Social chairman of my sorority 
• Managed to make it to an 8 a.m. class at least twice – voluntarily 
• Developed Olympic-level speed at pretending I had done the reading 
• Perfect attendance at events that offered free food 
• And proudly a card-carrying member of the Virge Elite Club

I didn’t see the problem.

Seriously, like many people facing a significant rejection for the first time, I quietly wondered whether that letter was telling me something about my own worth.

But looking back now, I understand something I couldn’t see then. Life was not ending the story I had imagined for myself... It was quietly leading me toward a better one . . . one I never would have chosen on my own.

So, I unfolded the map again – although many of you who know what this is, you know they never fold back the way they came. I don’t know honestly, it’s like folding a roadmap is like folding a fitted sheet: You know it’s possible … but you just can’t figure out how – so, I rerouted to the University of Richmond Law School, which led me to a deeply rewarding legal career – and then eventually brought me back here to the University I love, surrounded by students I deeply admire and who inspire me every day.

That unexpected turn in my life not only shaped my career, it also led me to my late husband.

And as I have been trying to remember what I was thinking about 40 years ago, when I was sitting exactly where you are today. And I can assure you – I can assure I was not imagining that one day I would return to this stage and would be standing up here delivering the Commencement Address to this incredible class of UVA grads.

To be honest, at that particular moment in my life – after a very aggressive week of graduation celebrations, and perhaps maybe as my father said, four years of aggressive celebrations – my goals were considerably less ambitious.

In fact, I think they pretty much just included hydration, and finding a place to get out of the sun and lie down, someplace quiet because it was also hotter than “bejeebs” then as well.

Now, while we all hope to avoid rejection, it actually has a way of teaching us something deeper – right? – something that you all will take with you each time you face that detour.

Sometimes the moments that disappoint us most become the very moments that transform our lives.

But if we allow rejection to define us, it can quietly erode our confidence until fear becomes the one making decisions rather than courage.

Which often results in the ‘I’ in DRIVE: Insecurity.

We live in a society where almost everyone has a microphone – right? – a comment section, a podcast or social media account they can send and broadcast immediately all over the world.

Some people have actually confused having a Wi-Fi connection with having wisdom.

And if you are not careful, that noise can convince you that you are not enough:

You are not successful enough.

You are not accomplished enough.

You are not attractive enough.

You are just … not enough.

But remember this: Not every voice deserves a seat in the car.

If it is true, then learn from it, right?

If it is useful, grow from it.

If it’s neither,  just roll up the window and keep going.

Because you can’t control what others say, but you can control your reaction to it.

Trust me, as a professor, I have learned this personally. Yes, I read, occasionally the Rate My Professor comments. Evidently, requiring students to put their cellphones away during class is now considered a violation of basic human rights. And apparently, the fact that I still write with chalk on the board has convinced some students that I taught alongside Thomas Jefferson.

I just rolled up the window and kept being me!

And the harshest criticism of all, though, doesn’t come from online. It comes from the quiet voice living inside our own minds, the one that replays mistakes long after that moment has passed or asks us to relive decisions that can’t we make again, it just can’t be undone.

But life does not give us the option of driving backwards, does it? So don’t spend your life staring in the rearview mirror, reliving mistakes or replaying regrets.

Keep your hands on the wheel and your eyes on the road ahead of you, because your next decision – not your last mistake – determines where you’re headed. 

And somewhere along the way, society convinced your generation that you were supposed to have your entire future planned out remarkably early in life, choosing career paths, building résumés, securing internships, and networking professionally before some of you had even lost your baby teeth.

But as you pursue the future you dream about, don’t move so quickly, slow down.

Appreciate your friends. Appreciate your family. Tell the people you love that you love them — every chance you get.

And appreciate those ordinary moments that don’t seem extraordinary today, but someday will mean more to you than you can possibly imagine.

And there will come a time when many of you will realize that some of the people sitting right here next to you today became one of the most meaningful parts of your story.

Which brings us to the ‘V’ in DRIVE: 

I can hear you. You are like ‘V,’ okay one more, thank God. I could have been driving carefully. Alright.

The ‘V,’ the willingness to be vulnerable – to open yourself up to the possibility of pain, like having to sit here listening to me today, allows us to fully experience the beauty of unconditional love, deeply human connection and the joy that gives life its most greatest meaning.

My late husband and I learned this lesson. For years we tried to make sense of a relationship many people questioned.

You see he was 26 years older than I was.

It was a deeply vulnerable place to be, choosing to trust our own hearts despite the unconventional nature of our relationship and the uncertainty that came with it.

But eventually we realized something important: There was only room for the two of us in that car – and the decision was ours – and ours only.

And I will be forever grateful that we chose to take that DRIVE together.

Which brings me to the hardest part of the DRIVE – Endings.

Fortunately, every part of our DRIVE teaches us something we eventually need when life changes without warning.

Doubt teaches us how to continue through uncertainty.

Rejection teaches us how to begin again.

Insecurity teaches us how to trust ourselves.

Vulnerability teaches us how deeply that we can love.

These lessons in the end teach us that achievements, titles, accomplishments, they're never the important part of our story, people are. People we loved, people that inspired us, people we wish we could still hold onto.

People like D’Sean Perry, Devin Chandler, and Lavel Davis Jr.

This university felt the heartbreak of losing men filled with so much promise -deeply loved by this community – whose futures should have stretched far beyond these Grounds.

Professor Carrie Heilman and Dean Phil Bourne – extraordinary individuals who devoted their lives to uplifting others at UVA and beyond.

Their losses remind us that the people who leave the greatest mark on our lives are rarely the loudest voices in the room. And part of every life is learning how to deal with personal loss.

I faced that test early.

At 30 years old, only eight months after my marriage, I became a widow. Four months later, on the very day I should have been celebrating my first wedding anniversary – my mother died.

For a long time, I was lost.

Grief doesn’t come with directions. It doesn’t tell you how to rebuild a life that suddenly feels unrecognizable. But over time, I began to realize that moving forward doesn’t mean leaving loss behind. It means learning how to carry it beside you without letting it take the wheel.

And years later, life surprised me once more.

I remarried a widower with three wonderful children and now seven beautiful grandchildren.

They helped me rediscover something grief tries very hard to erase: Laughter can return to a home, love can grow again, and even after heartbreak, a beautiful future can be waiting around the next turn.

So, as you leave here today – and I know you are like ‘Oh thank God’ – as you leave here today, remember this: Life will not always hand you clear directions.

And unlike GPS, life rarely announces: “You have arrived.”

When life challenges you, remember that a meaningful life is built one choice at a time.

Choose courage when doubt tells you to stop. Choose perseverance when rejection tells you to turn around. Choose confidence when insecurity questions your worth. Choose love even when vulnerability makes it risky. And choose hope when life confronts you with endings you never expected.

And now that you know how to use one of these things, sometimes choose the map, okay, instead of GPS.

So, class of 2026, as you know, you are extraordinarily talented, you are resilient, you are compassionate, and you are far more prepared than you ever realize. So before you leave here today, let me give you one final piece of advice:

Enjoy the DRIVE.

Congratulations to the Class of 2026, and Godspeed on the journey ahead.