I remember the first time I heard the word "Harvard"; I was in fifth grade facing suspension for my "behavioral issues" and bad temper. As a last resort, the school administration sent me to the guidance counselor's office in hopes of "correcting my behavior." When I sat down in the chair, I faced the guidance counselor, absent of any words for five minutes because all I wanted to do was go to recess, play basketball and dance Lite Feet with my friends.

Then, for what seemed like indefinite silence was swiftly broken by my guidance counselor's words: "Robert, what do you want to be?" This proverbial question had been asked of me and many students of my age often in our lives, but for some reason, this time felt different. I answered her, almost impulsively, "I just want to be 18." After a shorter, but no less weighted pause, she replied, "Robert, you can be so much more. And if you realized your own ability and applied yourself in the classroom, you can even go to Harvard." She was the only other person besides my mom to ever speak such words to me, though I had no idea what she was talking about.

With no frame of reference, no examples and no pathway, Harvard was never a physical place I, or many kids from the South Bronx, could logically conceptualize. Instead, it represented an esoteric metaphor for success and achievement, for life that can extend beyond our formal years. To me, Ms. Polito, my guidance counselor, was telling me that I could be more than an 18-year-old kid from South Bronx — that I had more life to give, and more to give life.

Today, I sit here 12 years later having graduated cum laude with high honors from Harvard University, and reflecting on having been selected to give several keynote speeches, to have received several awards and honors and to have been empowered, and enabled, to envision a life that is long from finished. This journey was, and is still, by no means an easy one, and there have been, and will continue to be, difficulties known or unknown that I will face. But dammit, despite how hard I resist, I cannot and will not stop being so grateful and humbled to be here today with the ability to tell other fifth grade kids who were like me that Harvard is, in fact, a real physical place where not only WE can be, but a place where WE can succeed.

Thank you to everyone who has helped me get here. I promise it was not in vain.