Commencement Speech - Ryann Coughlin

May 12, 2026

By Ryann Coughlin

Class of 2026

Faculty, staff, family, friends, and fellow graduates—welcome, and congratulations.

Because somehow, we made it here. And whether it felt fast or slow, easy or anything but, we’re all sitting here at the same finish line.

And while today is about what comes next, I think it’s also worth taking a moment to look back at how we got here, and what we’ve learned along the way.

If you had asked most of us a few years ago if we would end up at this small school on the hill, a lot of us probably would’ve said no… or at least asked where Briar Cliff even was. I know I would have laughed if someone told me I’d be walking the same halls as my parents, living just a few doors down from where they met.

And yet, here we are. Sitting together, in matching outfits, carrying more with us than just a degree.

In classrooms, labs, internships, and in the community, we’ve been preparing for what comes next. Not just by learning facts, but by learning how to think, how to adapt, and how to keep going when things were difficult. We’ve worked on the kinds of things that look good written down.

The kind of things that are easy to explain when someone says, “So tell me about yourself.” The kind of lives that sound impressive in a sentence or two. But if I’m being honest, some of the most important parts of these past four years… don’t fit into those sentences at all.

They were quiet. Unplanned. Easy to miss. Late nights that had nothing to do with studying. Conversations that changed the way you think. Days where you felt completely lost, and didn’t fix it, but learned how to sit with it. Moments of loss that taught you how to lean on others. Moments where you showed up, even when you didn’t feel ready. Especially when you didn’t feel ready.

And I don’t think those moments made us more impressive. I think they made us more honest.

There’s a story about Saint Francis of Assisi that I kept coming back to while writing this. Before he became who we know him as, he had everything set up for a life that made perfect sense—wealth, status, a clear path forward. The kind of life people could easily understand and admire. And then he walked away from it.

Not because it was bad, but because it wasn’t true to who he was becoming. And I think that’s a different kind of courage. Not the kind we usually celebrate. Because it’s one thing to chase something big. It’s another thing entirely to let go of something that already looks good. And in a lot of ways, that kind of courage has been building in all of us too. It started when we chose this place, and it grew in the moments we stayed, even when things were hard. When we kept going, even when we weren’t sure what we were doing. When we chose to learn and grow in ways that didn’t always come easily.

And now, as we leave here, there’s a question we’re all going to keep hearing: What’s next?

Some of us have an answer. Some of us don’t. But what if the most important thing isn’t having the right plan? What if it’s paying attention? To what actually matters to you—not what looks good from the outside. To the people around you—the ones who are easy to overlook. To the moments that don’t seem important at the time, but stay with you anyway.

Because the truth is, most lives aren’t shaped by one big, defining decision. They’re shaped by smaller ones. Quieter ones. The kind no one else sees. The choice to be kind when it would be easier not to be. The choice to keep going when nothing feels certain. The choice to admit you don’t have everything figured out—and to move forward anyway.

That kind of life might not be easy to explain - but it will be real. And maybe that’s the kind of life we should be aiming for. A life not built around being the most successful person in the room—but around being present. Aware. Willing to show up, again and again, even when it’s uncomfortable. Because in the end, the people who change the world aren’t always the ones with the loudest plans.

They’re the ones who notice - who choose to care, consistently, quietly, without needing recognition for it. So as we leave Briar Cliff University, maybe the goal isn’t to have everything figured out. Maybe the goal is something smaller than that—and at the same time, something much harder.

To live a life that is honest. To choose what matters, even when it doesn’t look impressive. To be willing to begin again, as many times as it takes. So as we walk out of these doors, remember this:

Even if your life doesn’t look the way you thought it would… even if it isn’t the most impressive story, you could tell... it can still be meaningful. Because of who you choose to be. Because of how you show up. Because of what you choose to care about. And that—more than anything we could ever write down—is what actually matters.

Congratulations, Class of 2026. We made it.