Old Dogs Can, and Do, Learn New Tricks

Anthony Lorizio, ALB '01

by Anthony Lorizio, ALB '01
Student Address to Degree Recipients

Good afternoon Dean Shinagel, faculty, fellow graduates, and guests.

Who said you can't teach an old dog new tricks? I tracked the axiom back to E. C. Brewer who lived between 1810 and 1897. He gets credit in the Dictionary of Phrase and Fable published in 1898 for coming up with this supposed truth. The internet version of Bartlett's Quotations states, "Old dogs will not learn new tricks." They address human behavior by stating, "When persons are old they do not readily fall into new ways."

Whether the maxim is true or not creates a paradox for this speaker. You see, yesterday I celebrated my 54th birthday, yet today I receive a Bachelor of Liberal Arts degree. My newly acquired academic prowess has me questioning the truth of Messrs. Brewer and Bartlett. Either some old dogs can learn new tricks or 54 is young. Whichever side of the argument is true, I stand here as evidence that it is possible, at this university, for a student with a half century of life experience to learn many new tricks while earning 128 academic credits. To be sure, the challenge of mastering the profound material contained in 32 courses was the focus of my efforts; the tricks I learned are not in the course catalogue.

Accepting the fact that I could pass through Johnston Gate as a student at the young age of 49 necessitated the need for new tricks. I've learned many in four-and-a-half years. New habits of thinking and acting were necessary if I were successfully to navigate this university. Many unanticipated questions would require answers.

How does one read 100 pages of small print in an academic textbook dealing with science in the Middle Ages, do it along with as many pages of reading from three other unrelated classes, and finish that reading in a week? How does one get from William James Hall to Harvard Hall in ten minutes? How do you find research materials at Widener Library and keep from either getting lost in the building or distracted by the books you didn't know existed on your topic? Where can you get a salad and a sandwich that doesn't cost a fortune? Where are the vending machines that do not run out of Diet Coke and Snickers bars? A half century of life on planet earth had provided no insight to these questions. I had to learn some new tricks!

After 30 years of being manacled to mercantile mania, I can scan read the headlines of the Financial Times, the Wall Street Journal, and the New York Times and extract the needed information. I discovered, however, that there was a different way to read here at Harvard. At 50 years of age I had to learn how to read again. I learned to read with questions already in mind for the text before me to answer. This academic trick and more combined with tips from helpful and caring 20-something fellow students enabled me to comprehend and retain complex information quickly.

In addition to relearning how to read, I had to learn how to traverse this campus in a timely fashion. While class subject content was my first priority, their geographic location on this expansive campus was important. I learned how to accept the limits imposed by geography and, thanks to my academic advisor, I always had a full schedule of classes that supported my field of study. The trick here was learning to trust and ask for help; every door I knocked on opened. I learned how to trust here, definitely a new trick for this "Old Dog."

Knowing what you want, specifically, is the secret to utilizing Widener Library. I overheard some younger students' talk about planning a tryst in the stacks, yet had no idea what they were talking about. It took me two years to get up the courage to take a tour of this monolithic storehouse of wisdom. Intrigued by the possibility of a tryst, and not wanting to miss out on any of the Harvard resources, motivated me. I discovered I had to pay attention to the lines painted on the floor and the new crimson-colored signs on the walls or I'd never be able to leave once in the belly of the building. Further, even when I knew exactly the books I needed to do my research, there were always more titles on the topic buried neatly in the stacks. I learned not to get distracted, and a tryst just became a sweet thought.

I had to think new thoughts about eating. While commuting four to seven days a week, meals had to be planned. Harvard is committed to doing the best job at everything they do; yet the food available on campus gets redundant. Most of you know what I mean. Hence, I had to learn how to find fuel for my body. My classmates generously escorted me to the restaurant section of the Broadway Market, Bartley's Burgers, Charlie's Kitchen, the Hong Kong, and the "roach coach" that parks near the Science Center and sells the best and cheapest Chinese food you can find anywhere. Life was becoming easier within the Yard. Along the way I discovered a vending machine location where the Diet Coke and Snickers bars are always in abundance. That information is too valuable to share.

While the new tricks were important for making daily life on campus easier, more importantly, this old dog discovered his life's purpose. A whole new identity was created. That's some trick! The tools at the Career and Academic Resources Center (CARC) indicated my propensities to be in the areas of teaching, writing, and diplomacy. My advisor began assisting me with course selection that supported those areas. In a miraculously short period of time I was able to shed the corporate cloak and began teaching at a middle school, writing journalistic pieces and getting paid for them, and taking classes with and becoming friends of professors who work in the area of international affairs and diplomacy. This all occurred before graduation. Can't teach an old dog new tricks?

As Paul Harvey, the syndicated radio journalist, would say, "Now for the rest of the story." The genesis for learning new tricks started long before I walked into the Yard. Forty-four years ago I wrote a poem that was published in the Boston Herald. My grandmother, who was educated at St. Mary of the Wood Academy in Indiana at the beginning of the last century, taught me the meaning of rhyme and meter. When the $5 prize arrived, I thought she deserved to get the money. She lovingly said, "No Tony! You did the work. I taught you how. You did the work. You should go to Harvard, let them teach you as I have, work hard, make friends, and be joyous." Although I was slow to execute her advice and took a rather circuitous path, I finally learned the necessary tricks not just to come into the Yard but to succeed. I am grateful to my grandmother for planting the Harvard seed in my intellectual garden.

The Career and Academic Resource Center helped me discover who I really am--writer, teacher, and diplomat. Academic advising of the highest order and a faculty of world-renowned instructors helped me build a college experience that supported my goals. Yes, today I am grateful to have learned to write, to translate French, to understand and utilize complex statistical formulas, to understand the richness of Greek literature and history, and how principles of quality endure time.

The real evidence of the benefit of my newly acquired education is how it has changed my life. I have been accepted at The Johns Hopkins University's Master's in Government program. Tomorrow I have an interview in Washington, DC, with the president of a public policy think tank to discuss a position that would have me raising money for their worthy cause. And an alumna has volunteered to introduce me to an editor at the Washington Post where I may get freelance writing assignments.

Just like Rocky, in the movie of the same name, when he called to his wife, Adrian, after winning the belt of the champion, I need to bellow out to my grandmother, who now resides in the heavenly academy of the universe. Grandma, I'm 54 and I did it!

Indeed, old dogs can and do learn new tricks.

Photo by Jeffry Pike.