Anna Gnapp Remarks

Good morning, faculty and staff, families and friends, and most importantly—the Class of 2026!

When I was busy procrastinating on my thesis, I came across a quote that said: “I haven't felt like myself lately. I must be growing.”

At first, I laughed. It just sounded like a very polite way of describing an identity crisis. After all, when we first arrived at Hamilton, we were presented with the motto of Know Thyself. And my parents loved this. To them, it guaranteed that by senior year, I would have my life and myself figured out.

We often think if we study hard enough, join enough clubs, and do “all the right things,” whatever that means, everything will finally click into place one day. We treat knowing ourselves like a finish line, an end point we strive to reach.

And Hamilton students don’t exactly sit still for very long. We sprint from clubs to practice to late-night meetings in Sadove. We stack commitments like it's a competitive sport. And somewhere in all of that, our identities can start to blur — almost like the busier we are, the more we must be becoming ourselves.

And to be clear, that energy is incredible. It's what makes this place and these people here so special. But, it can also make it easy to confuse being full with being defined.

When I first came to Hamilton, I thought I knew who I was and what I wanted. Basketball was something that had defined me for the longest part of my life, so when I made the team, I thought I had found exactly who I was supposed to be here.

But then, senior year, I made the decision to close that chapter.

At first, it felt like a loss — like I was letting go of something that had been a big part of me. But what I found on the other side surprised me. Without basketball, I had room.

Room to connect with people I never would have met, to try things I never would have tried, and to discover sides of myself that I had never seen before.

Letting go of that identity didn’t shrink me. It made space for a fuller version of myself.

That’s when I started to think of growth a little differently. Instead of outgrowing, I like to think of it as overflowing.

Overflowing means you have become too big for the container you used to fit into. It means your life is so full of new experiences, new perspectives, new versions of yourself … that the old shape just can’t hold it anymore.

Somewhere between our orientation trips, declaring majors, having a few too many drinks at Pub, and writing theses, we outgrew old hobbies, old habits, and even old versions of ourselves.

And that can feel scary. It can feel a lot like losing something.

But being here on the Hill has taught me that belonging does not mean staying the same. It doesn’t mean forcing yourself to fit into a space that was designed for a past version of you.

But rather, real belonging means recognizing when you have changed and having the courage to change with it.

So, if you don’t feel like the person you were when you arrived here four years ago, that’s exactly the point.

Because growing doesn’t always feel like growth. Sometimes it feels like making it to 4 p.m. art yoga on a Friday. Or the relief of a stack of Diner pancakes after Saturday pub night with your friends. Or getting that email that classes are canceled for a snow day — or two, if you're lucky.

That's the strange thing about identity. Know thyself, we say like it’s some fixed point, something we are supposed to find and hold onto.

But what I’ve learned is that we did not come to Hamilton to find out who we are — we came here to learn how to evolve.

So, Class of 2026, as we leave the Hill, don’t look for a life where you fit perfectly, exactly as you are now. Look for a life that gives you the room to keep growing — room to keep overflowing.

Embrace the fact that you don't feel like your old self. It means you are making space for the person you are becoming.

Hamilton taught us to know ourselves, and we have. But knowing yourself was never meant to be the finish line. It was always just the beginning. There is still so much overflowing to do. New containers to outgrow. And new doors to walk through.

And I can confidently say that these past four years at Hamilton have taught me that the person you’re becoming is someone you will want to know.

Congratulations, Class of 2026. I feel incredibly lucky and honored to have grown alongside you.