PHOTOS: Sen. Schiff Delivers Commencement Addresses to Graduating Classes of San Diego Miramar College and California State University San Marcos

Schiff: "Don't just be amazed. Amaze us. Be amazed at the quiet dignity of countless Americans who wake up early and work tirelessly to provide for their families and amaze us with your efforts to deliver them a more secure future."

San Diego, CA - U.S. Senator Adam Schiff (D-Calif.) delivered the commencement addresses for the 2026 graduating classes of San Diego Miramar College (SDMC) and the graduating students of the Humanities, Arts, Behavioral and Social Sciences class at California State University, San Marcos (CSUSM).

"Your presence here is a testament to how this place has supported and empowered you. And it is a testament, above all, to your talent, your drive, your resilience-and, no doubt, your impressive caffeine intake. The piece of paper you will shortly hold in your hand is not a guarantee of success, but it is a passport to a future of tremendous possibility. The question now is, what are you going to do with it?" said Senator Schiff.

Schiff addressed thousands of graduates across the two universities, offering encouragement and advice on how to be your best, look beyond caricatures, hold onto friendships, not let fear hold you back, and amaze the world.

San Diego Miramar College is a San Diego community college that services 14,000 students annually offering 70 associate degrees and 90 career technical education certificates preparing students to succeed in and out of the classroom. California State University San Marcos is home to more than 17,000 students and is recognized as the number one university for social mobility in the country. Schiff was a part-time professor at Glendale Community College where he taught political science. He continues to be a champion for California's community colleges, state colleges, and access to a quality, affordable higher education.

View his remarks HERE and HERE.

Read his remarks as delivered below:

San Diego Miramar College:

Good morning!

Geysil thank you for that very kind introduction.

Chancellor Smith… President Lundburg… members of the Board of Trustees… proud parents and loved ones… and, of course, distinguished graduates - congratulations!

What a wonderful occasion this is and I'm so thrilled to be back in San Diego. My wife Eve is from this area and attended Torrey Pines High School. Any Falcons out there? Ok a couple.

This time last year, I was sitting in the audience at our son Eli's graduation, his college graduation. Eli had the good fortune to have, Steve Carell as his graduation speaker. That's Michael Scott for you fans of the Office.

In the middle of his remarks, Carell stopped to lead us all in a dance break that he called "as invigorating as it was disturbing."

Now, to reach this day, you've already had to sit in traffic for a potentially long time on the I-15.

You endured a heartbreaking Padres collapse in the National League Division Series a couple seasons ago against my hometown Dodgers. Well, I got through almost a minute without a boo. My condolences.

And, just when it seemed like you were at the finish line, Miramar got hit by a cyber-attack that disrupted online classes, took down campus systems, and-perhaps most tragically-even closed the C-Store.

All of which is to say, I will not compound your suffering by subjecting you to my dancing. And I'll try to be as brief as a politician can be.

Since this commencement, however, I will subject you to a few reflections and even some words of advice.

In many ways, a day like this is the very embodiment of the American idea.

Our nation was formed from an improbable experiment, rooted in an unproven idea that the people could govern themselves.

That we need not be ruled by a tyrant or a king.

That here, anyone with enough drive, talent, and intellect could prosper.

For 250 years now, that promise of something better - life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness - has attracted the best and brightest to our shores. In places wracked by poverty and persecution, that single word - "America" -has been almost a whispered prayer.

At our best, our country has welcomed new arrivals, lifting our lamp beside a golden door.

And at our worst, America has been downright hostile to our newest Americans. The Chinese Exclusion Act. Prop 187. Fear and violence on the streets of Los Angeles, Chicago, and Minneapolis.

Yet even as every generation seeks to dim as some of the generations seek to dim America's light, the idea at the heart of this country persists: that no matter who you are or where you're from, where you begin in life should not determine where you end up.

Only you can do that.

When one of my former colleagues arrived in the Senate - he was a farmer from Montana named Jon Tester - he was greeted by the chamber's richest man, John D. Rockefeller, who told him, "You and I started from very different places, but we both ended up here."

And perhaps nowhere do we see the idea that we can determine our own future realized more clearly than through an education like the one you've received.

My father Ed-the grandson of Lithuanian immigrants-left high school early to enlist during World War II. He never finished college. Even as he went from selling clothes as a traveling salesman to building a successful lumber and concrete business, dropping out of college remained one of the few regrets he had in life.

Still, my father believed deeply in the great equalizing power of an education. "An education," he'd remind me and my brother, "is the one thing they can never take away."

Education is what brought my family, as we like to say, from the shtetl to the Congress in three generations.

It has opened doors for me, and it will open doors for you.

At a moment when the once-sturdy ladder into the middle class is shaky - when economists debate whether the American Dream is now more readily achievable in other places -schools like this one are helping so many talented strivers climb higher.

So many of you, I know, are the first in your families to attend college.

Many of you completed your coursework while juggling multiple jobs, raising kids, worrying about a spouse deployed overseas or even a knock on the door that could rip you away from your loved ones.

A handful of you - Miramar's Rising Scholars - have overcome incarceration to pursue your education, learning side-by-side with fellow students who will one day pin on a shield to protect and serve their communities.

Your presence here is a testament to how this place has supported and empowered you.

And it is a testament, above all, to your talent, your drive, your resilience - and, no doubt, your impressive caffeine intake.

The piece of paper you will shortly hold in your hand is not a guarantee of success, but it is a passport to a future of tremendous possibility.

The question now is, what are you going to do with it?

Answering that question is perhaps more difficult than usual, compounded by a challenging economy, an unpredictable administration - to put it charitably - and rapid technological change.

A little while ago, the New Yorker featured a cartoon with a couple mob enforcers walking along, one of them wielding a baseball bat. And the other one says, "At least A.I. ain't comin' for our jobs."

The uncertainty you may be feeling - fear, even - is understandable. It's natural.

My own graduation occurred a little bit longer ago than I'd care to admit, but I do recall a few things.

I remember wondering if my girlfriend and I would stay together. Spoiler alert: we did not.

I remember that I would occasionally venture around campus wearing overalls - which may or may not have contributed to the aforementioned break-up.

What I remember most, though, was a sense of uncertainty that was equal parts invigorating and terrifying.

After graduation, I was going to spend the summer as a wildland firefighter, working alongside hotshots like those of you who've trained at the Fire Academy here.

Beyond that… I wasn't entirely sure.

I decided to go to law school, but had no idea where that would lead me, whether I would enjoy it or find it fulfilling.

As it turned out, law school led me to the U.S. attorney's office, which led to an interest in the criminal justice system and how it might be fixed, which led me to elected office.

Not exactly how I'd drawn it up when I was blasting Billy Joel at all hours of the night from my college dorm room.

But what helped me navigate the uncertainty were some words of wisdom from my father: "If you're good at what you do, he said, there will always be a demand for you."

I should warn you that we've reached the advice part of the speech, and that's the first bit of guidance.

My father was a child of the Great Depression, with memories of working around the clock to keep the family pharmacy afloat. He could easily have told me to fixate on finding the most lucrative career possible.

But what he appreciated - what I hope you'll come to appreciate - is that true job security comes not from pursuing a particular profession, but rather from pursuing excellence in whatever you do.

Dr. Martin Luther King put it more poetically. As he once told a different group of young people, "If it falls to your lot to be a street sweeper, sweep streets like Michelangelo painted pictures… Sweep streets like Shakespeare wrote poetry. Sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will have to pause and say: Here lived a great street sweeper who swept his job well." 

That liberating idea is what my brother, is why my brother ended up becoming a playwright.

It's what led me into politics - much to my parents' chagrin. And eventual, if reluctant, pride.

Whether you're headed next to a four-year institution or a job in aviation maintenance, no algorithm can match the curiosity, creativity, and resourcefulness that you've learned here.

So, focus on being very good at what you do. Here on this Compass Point, at the center of campus, let your interests and your passions be your true north.

And if you change your mind about what that thing is five times, or fifteen times? That is totally fine. Figuring it all out is the best part.

My second piece of advice: Dare to try.

Nobody likes to fail. To bomb an exam, or lose a job, or miss out on a promotion. But you can't go through life so afraid of messing up that you never take your shot.

Take it from me.

When I was 30 years old, I ran for the California state assembly.

On Election Day, I got my ass handed to me. Finished eleventh out of fifteen candidates.

A few years later, I ran again. And same story. Lost again.

After that second loss, I was ready to hang it up. I'd given it my best. It just was not meant to be.

And just as I was moving on, the president of the state senate called me and asked me to try once more. Well third time was the charm, and here I am today. 

I learned a lot from those failed races. Like, never cash out your retirement savings to keep your campaign afloat.

Really, don't do that.

Most importantly, I learned there's something worse than failing, and that is not trying. You can get a lot even from falling short, but the only thing you get from not trying is… regret. 

Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, the Nobel laureate and first democratically elected woman head of state in Africa, perhaps said it best: "If your dreams don't scare you, they're not big enough."

Third, look beyond caricatures.

One of my favorite experiences so far as a senator happened when I was in the far north of state in Butte County. I was visiting the Farm Bureau, and let's just say that a lot of the folks in the room only knew me from Fox News - which is not a particularly flattering portrait.

Now, I'm not an expert in farming. In my old LA urban-suburban district, the only agriculture we had was of the illegal variety.

So, I explained that I was eager to learn more, to talk about trade and tariffs and immigration and water, so I could represent them better.

And I knew I'd made progress when, at the end of the meeting, one of farmers turned to me and said, "I don't know why the president calls you 'watermelon head.' You have a perfectly normal sized head."

And they're experts in melons up there.

It can be difficult to reach people who drastically have different worldviews. Especially in this inflamed moment. When so many people find it difficult to disagree without being thoroughly disagreeable. When we are experiencing a dangerous level of political violence.

But our families, our workplaces - our democracy - cannot function unless we open ourselves up to people with whom we disagree.

So, look past the labels and the fear-mongering. Seek out that tiny sliver of common ground and build from there.

More often than not, you'll discover that the monster you've imagined - on the left or on the right - bears very little resemblance to the human being standing in front of you.

Which leads me to my fourth and final word of advice.

This one comes from one of the great philosophical texts of our time - the 1990 cult classic film Joe Versus the Volcano.

For those of you unfamiliar with Spielberg's earlier work, the movie stars Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, and involves a terminally ill Tom Hanks getting paid to throw himself into a volcano to appease a fire god.

Pretty realistic, I know. And believe it or not, it's a rom-com.

At one point, the two are floating on a boat in the Pacific when Meg Ryan says something that's always stuck with me.

She says, "Almost the whole world is asleep… Only a few people are awake, and they live in a state of constant total amazement."

Class of 2026, do not sleep-walk through life. Instead, live in a state of constant, total amazement.

Let yourself be amazed by the sun setting over Del Mar Beach.

By the feel of an infant's small hand in yours.

By the fierce love and pride written on your families' faces as you walk across this stage.

I want to ask something more of you:

Don't just be amazed. Amaze us.

Be amazed at the quiet dignity of countless Americans who wake up early and work tirelessly to provide for their families… and amaze us with your efforts to deliver them a more secure future.

Be amazed by this wondrous, fragile democratic experiment of ours - free elections, a free press, and the rule of law - and amaze us by the way you take a stand to defend it.

Figure out a cause that's important to you, and dive in.

There is nothing more demoralizing than feeling powerless, and nothing more empowering than working towards a goal. All of us - all of us - have the ability to influence others, whether our circle is large or small. 

Class of 2026, you now have an education that can never be taken away.

You have achieved so much already and will achieve greater things still.

And as you do, I will be watching… in a state of constant, total amazement.

Congratulations, and good luck! Thank you so much.

California State University San Marcos:

Hello, Cougars! How are you doing today?

President Neufeldt faculty and administrators… thank you making this school truly a gem of higher education in California.

As the father of two recent college graduates, I would be remiss not to acknowledge everyone who helped make this day possible: parents and grandparents, siblings… Frank the Therapy Dog. This moment belongs to you.

And, of course, to the Class of 2026 - congratulations! Congratulations!

Whether it took you three or four or six years, you're here. At your graduation.

You've worked hard in your classes… and perhaps even harder to find parking.

You've discovered, and I can understand why looking at this beautiful campus, with your glutes and quads burning, why some students call this "Cal State Stair Master."

All of you, evidently, managed to avoid stepping on that Founder's Seal. And here you are.

Now I know I can't compete with the time Jeremiah from Love Island visited here, but I'm going to do the best that I can.

What I may lack in reality TV star power, I make up for with a truly encyclopedic knowledge of obscure 1980's movies.

In many ways, a day like this is the very embodiment of the American idea.

Our nation was formed as an improbable experiment, rooted in the unproven idea that the people could govern themselves.

That we did not be ruled by a tyrant or king.

That here, anyone with enough drive, talent, and intellect could prosper.

For 250 years now, that promise of something better - life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness - has attracted the best and brightest to our shores. In places wracked by poverty and persecution, that single word - "America" - has been almost a whispered prayer.

At our best, our country has welcomed new arrivals, lifting our lamp beside a golden door.

At our worst, America has been downright hostile to the newest Americans. The Chinese Exclusion Act. Prop 187. Fear and violence on the streets of Los Angeles, Chicago, and Minneapolis.

Yet, the idea at the heart of this country persists: that no matter where you're from, where you begin in life should not determine where you end up.

Only you can do that.

When one of my former colleagues arrived in the Senate - a farmer from Montana named Jon Tester - he was greeted by the chamber's richest man, John D. Rockefeller, who told him, "you and I started from very different places, but we both ended up here."

And perhaps nowhere do we see the idea that we can determine our own future realized more clearly than through an education like the one you've received here.

My father Ed-the grandson of Lithuanian immigrants - left high school early to enlist during World War II. He never finished college. Even as he went from selling clothes as a traveling salesman to building a successful lumber and concrete business, dropping out of college remained one of his few regrets in life.

Still, my father believed deeply in the great equalizing power of an education. "An education," he would remind me and my brother, "is the one thing they can never take away."

Education is what brought my family, as we like to say, from the shtetl to the Congress in three generations.

It has opened doors for me, and it will open doors for you.

More than half of you are the first in your families to attend college.

Many of you completed your coursework while juggling multiple jobs, raising kids, worrying about a spouse who was deployed overseas or a knock on the door that could rip you away from loved ones.

Your presence here is a testament to how this institution has supported and empowered you.

It is a testament, above all, to your talent, your drive, your resilience - and, no doubt, your impressive caffeine intake.

The piece of paper you shortly will hold in your hand is not a guarantee of success, but it is a passport to a future with tremendous possibility.

The question now is, what are you going to do with it?

The uncertainty you may be feeling - fear, even - is understandable. It is natural.

My own graduation occurred a little bit longer than I'd like to admit, a little bit longer ago, but I do recall a few things.

I recall wondering if my girlfriend and I would stay together. Spoiler alert: we did not.

I remember I would occasionally venture around campus wearing overalls - which may or may not have contributed to the aforementioned break-up.

What I remember most, though, was a sense of uncertainty that was equal parts invigorating and terrifying.

After graduation, I was going to spend the summer as a wildland firefighter.

Beyond that… I wasn't entirely sure.

I thought I'd try being a lawyer, but had no idea where that would lead me, whether I would find enjoyment in it or fulfillment.

As it turned out, law school led me to the U.S. attorney's office, which led to an interest in criminal justice system and how it might be fixed, which led me to elected office.

That was not exactly how I drew it up when I was blasting Billy Joel at all hours of the night and day in my college dorm room.

But what helped me navigate the uncertainty were some words of wisdom from my father: "If you're good at what you do, he said, there will always be a demand for you."

I should warn you that we've reached that point of the speech where I give advice.

My father was a child of the Great Depression, with memories of working around the clock to keep the family pharmacy afloat. He could easily have told me to fixate on finding the most lucrative career possible.

But what he appreciated - what I hope you'll come to appreciate - is that true job security comes not from pursuing a particular profession, but rather from pursuing excellence in whatever you do.

Dr. Marin Luther King put it more poetically. As he once told a different group of young people, "If it falls your lot to be a street sweeper, sweep streets like Michelangelo painted pictures… Sweep streets like Shakespeare wrote poetry. Sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will have to pause and say: Here lived a great street sweeper who swept his job well." 

That liberating idea is why my brother ended up as a playwright.

It's why I went into politics - much to my parents' chagrin.

It's why I'm confident you will find not only gainful employment but fulfilling employment.

Here at San Marcos, you have learned creativity, curiosity, resourcefulness. That no algorithm can match.

So, focus on being very good at what you do.

And if you change your mind about what that thing is five times, or fifteen times? That is totally fine.

Figuring it out is the best part.

My second piece of advice: Dare to try.

Nobody likes to fail. To bomb an exam, lose a job, miss out on a promotion. But you can't go through life so afraid of messing up that you never take your shot.

Take it from me.

When I was 30 years old, I ran for California state assembly. Spent hours knocking on doors.

And on Election Day, I got my ass handed to me. Finished eleventh out of fifteen.

A few years later, I ran again. Same story. Lost again.

After that second loss, I was ready to hang it up. I'd given it my best. It just wasn't meant to be.

Just as I was moving on, the president of the state senate called me and asked me to try once more. Third time was the charm, and here I am today. 

I've learned a lot from those failed races. Like, never cash out your retirement savings to keep your campaign afloat.

Really, don't do that.

Most importantly, I learned there's something worse than failing, and that is not trying. You can get a lot from falling short, but the only thing you get from not trying is… regret. 

Third, as you're navigating life's uncertainties and failures, its joys and successes, never walk past an old friend to greet a new friend. One of my own old friends taught me that.

By all means, make new friends. But cherish the old ones.

So don't forget the friendships you have made here, forged over $5 pints at Players and pies to the face during U Hour. I shudder to think of how much I could raise for charity with a pie to the face.

Don't cast these relationships aside because you meet someone with a flashier car, or a fancier title, or connections that might help you get ahead in your career.

The people sitting beside you right now, they know where you come from, they've seen who you are, they've read everything posted about you on YikYak-and they like that person.

Hang onto them. Let them ground you, uplift you, and cheer you on.

Fourth, look beyond caricatures.

One of my favorite experiences as a senator so far was up north in Butte County. When I was visiting the Farm Bureau, and let's just say that a lot of the folks in the room only knew me from Fox News - which is not a particularly flattering portrait.

Now, I'm not an expert in farming. In my old LA urban-suburban House district, the only agriculture we had was of the illegal variety.

So, I explained that I was eager to learn more, to talk about trade and tariffs and immigration and water, so I could represent them better.

And I knew when I'd made progress when, at the end of the meeting, one of farmers turned to me and said, "I don't know why the president calls you 'watermelon head.' You have a perfectly normal sized head."

And they're experts in melons up there.

It can be difficult to reach people with very different worldviews. Especially in this inflamed moment. When so many people find it difficult to disagree without being thoroughly disagreeable.

When we are experiencing a dangerous level of political violence.

But our families, our workplaces - our democracy - cannot function unless we open ourselves up to people with whom we disagree.

So, look past the labels and the fearmongering. Seek out that tiny sliver of common ground and build from there.

More often than not, you'll discover that the monster you've imagined - on the left or the right - bears very little resemblance to the human being standing in front of you.

Which leads me to my final bit of advice.

This one comes from the great philosophical texts of our time - the 1990 cult classic film Joe Versus the Volcano.

So for those of you unfamiliar with Spielberg's earlier work, the movie stars Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, and involves a terminally-ill Tom Hanks getting paid to throw himself into a volcano to appease a fire god.

Believe it or not, it's a rom-com.

At one point, the two are floating on a boat in the Pacific when Meg Ryan says something that has always stuck with me.

She says, "Almost the whole world is asleep… Only a few people are awake, and they live in a state of constant total amazement."

Class of 2026, do not sleep-walk through life. Instead, live in that state of constant, total amazement.

Let yourself be amazed by the sun setting over Carlsbad Beach.

By the feel of an infant's small hand in yours.

By the fierce love and pride written on your families' faces as you walk across this stage.

And lastly, I want to ask you something of you:

Don't just be amazed. Amaze us.

Be amazed at the quiet dignity of countless Americans who wake up early and work tirelessly to provide for their families… and amaze us with your efforts to deliver them a more secure future.

Be amazed by this wondrous, fragile democratic experiment of ours - free elections, a free press, the rule of law - and amaze us by the way you take a stand to defend it.

Figure out a cause that's important to you, and dive in.

There is nothing more demoralizing than feeling powerless, and nothing more empowering than working towards a goal. All of us - all of us - have the ability to influence others, whether our circle is large or small. 

Class of 2026, you now have an education that can never be taken away.

You have achieved so much already and will achieve greater things still.

And as you do, I will be watching… in a state of constant, total amazement.

Congratulations, and best of luck to you! Go Cougars!

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