Look Up: Remarks at Duke University Economics Department Commencement

Thank you, Jimmy [Roberts], for the generous introduction.

To all the family, friends, faculty and staff joining us in Cameron Indoor Stadium and online: We couldn’t celebrate this journey without you.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms and maternal figures who helped make this day possible, especially my own mom, Kathy, who is such an inspiration.

And to the reason we are gathered, the class of 2026, congratulations on this tremendous achievement.

Graduates, look up. I mean that literally. Look up to the rafters. They’re filled with championship banners and retired jerseys. These emblems not only honor Duke’s past, they remind current players and coaches what’s possible.

And they inspire fans. I’ve seen it firsthand. My daughter, Charlotte, just finished her junior year here as an econ major. Three years ago, at freshman family farewell, I watched her look up at these banners with pure pride. Even I, a born and raised Kentucky Wildcat fan, felt the magic.

After you walk out of Cameron today, your next destination may not have so many banners overhead. You’ll need to find your own sources of inspiration. But I believe you can find inspiration anywhere, if you just look up.

Look up with admiration

Start by surrounding yourself with people you look up to, those whose skills and values embody the person you want to become.

An early manager of mine at the New York Fed lived by a principle he learned in the military: mission first, people always.

On Sept. 11, after planes struck the World Trade Center a few blocks from our office, he worked tirelessly to keep markets functioning. He also checked in with everyone on the team to see what support he could offer.

The next several weeks we had to operate out of a contingency site. On the last day there, he led the final group to leave in singing “God Bless America.”

That moment of strength, pride and compassion tied our team to the Federal Reserve, its mission and its people. And it taught me more about leadership than any book or class ever could.

My Fed colleagues stepped up again in unforgettable ways when the pandemic set off financial turmoil in March 2020. As the coronavirus spread, we’d sent many people home to work remotely for the first time. One trading team’s leader had young twins and, because of the pandemic, no childcare. On a video call, I saw her bounce her children gently on her lap while overseeing a multibillion-dollar auction.

Her work helped protect the economy at a fragile time. It touched millions of Americans she would never meet. She did it with grace, dedication and commitment. I have aimed to carry her poise and resolve with me every day since.

Look up with curiosity

Sometimes, the people you admire don’t so much set an example as they set you on a path.

After college, seeking inspiration as I searched for my own career, I followed some volleyball teammates who were teaching English in Japan. What I expected in daily life collided frequently with what coworkers and neighbors expected from me. One unusually warm spring day, I came to school in a short-sleeve shirt. My fellow teachers kept suggesting I must feel cold. But I was visibly sweating and totally baffled as to what they meant.

When you are baffled, lean into it. In this case, I had to open up to a new culture. I had to look up from what I already knew.

A student explained the thousand-year-old tradition of koromogae. Everyone switches from winter to summer clothing on June 1, regardless of temperatures. It’s a beautiful way for the community to welcome a new season together. But I wouldn’t have learned about it if I hadn’t let curiosity be my guide.

A few years later, at the New York Fed, I was assigned to work as the trading desk’s oil analyst. I was responsible for tracking everything that moved energy markets around the world. One morning, during my daily readout, a senior policymaker asked me a question I hadn’t anticipated. I didn’t know the answer, and I said so.

My boss called me into his office an hour later. I braced for a reprimand. That’s not what I got. Just the opposite: he told me I’d be giving a talk on the topic to the entire bank that afternoon. Now, this wasn’t because I had all the answers. Rather, my humility built trust and credibility.

And I learned that it’s always possible to be more curious. If you’ve prepared for 96 questions, there is still a 97th question you haven’t yet considered. Ask it. Develop the skill to identify that question and the courage to seek the answer. Look up.

Look up with optimism

Every day begins with your choice of how to face it. Some days are going to be hard. You’ll encounter challenges and disappointments. Inspirational colleagues and your own curiosity won’t be enough to get through.

On those days, you can still decide to believe there’s something worth finding on the other side. Look up.

My parents divorced when I was in fourth grade. I learned early on that steady ground can suddenly fall away. I also learned you can’t control what happens to you. But you can control how you think about what comes next.

My mom taught me anything is possible with focus and determination. Even playing Division I volleyball when you’re 5 foot, 3-and-a-half inches.

When I was 16, she enrolled me in flying lessons. She wanted to help me manage my fear of flying. And she wanted me to learn that I could do this incredible thing—make a heavy machine fly through the air and come back down safely—by myself. Which I did.

I haven’t piloted a plane in decades, but the confidence I gained stuck with me. With hard work and faith in yourself, you can achieve what seems impossible.

I’m not advocating for naïve optimism. You have to be realistic. Recognize the challenge and understand what it requires of you. Don’t fly your airplane higher than the altitude it’s rated for. But do know that to take off, you have to look up.

As you start your careers, the time may come when you are voluntold to do something. Being voluntold is like volunteering, but with one critical distinction: Someone else signs you up.

A few years out of school, I was voluntold to lead a project on enhancing the Fed’s securities lending program. I had to shift from analyzing global macro risks, a job I loved, to sitting in a windowless room studying auction mechanics, custodial contracts and operational infrastructure. It felt like a career detour, at best. But I had a choice: to endure or to fully engage.

I chose to give that project my whole self. Along the way, my curiosity kicked in. It got interesting.

Now, the Fed doesn’t do projects just because they’re interesting. After months of work, policymakers decided the enhancements weren’t worthwhile, and they shut the project down. It felt like a failure. But the operational intricacies I’d learned eventually became key to implementing one part of the Fed’s emergency response in the 2008 financial crisis. Approaching my voluntold assignment as an opportunity built my expertise and prepared me to better serve our country. All because I chose to look up.

Look up together

You all know what a great team looks like. The magic that happens here on this court is possible only when teammates trust each other to collectively accomplish something that no one person could achieve alone.

The magic of teamwork happens off the court, too. When you camped for tickets in K-Ville, you were part of a team. When you studied all night with classmates, when you ran lab experiments or debugged code, when you organized events and knocked on doors for causes you believed in, you were part of a team.

You accomplished more, and your accomplishments meant more, because you reached your goals together.

But teamwork is not just about what you achieve. Your team inspires you and gives you strength when you struggle. Choose your teammates wisely and cherish them. As Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton sang, “You can’t make old friends.”

You’re leaving campus, but keep the people you met here close to you. And when the journey feels difficult, look up. Even if your team is thousands of miles away, chances are they’ll be looking up with you.

Conclusion

Let me ask you to look up one final time. This time, look up to the people who helped you reach this day: faculty on the stage, loved ones and friends in the stands. It’s a special day for them, too. Let’s give them a round of applause.

Just as these people supported you, if you ever have an opportunity to build a better future for others, take it. Our communities, our country and our world depend on people who choose to be part of something bigger than themselves. I’ve spent 27 years in public service and haven’t regretted a single day.

At my own college graduation, I had little plan for the future and no idea I’d land at the Federal Reserve. My curiosity led me to that teaching job in Japan, and from there, I just kept looking up.

Some of you today are still exploring what paths you’ll pursue. Your openness to inspiration will serve you well. Others have careers all mapped out. Your planning will help you achieve your goals. But keep an open mind. Plans can change.

You are graduating into a turbulent economy. War in the Middle East has caused a global energy shock. Artificial intelligence is transforming jobs and industries. Although the labor market is in balance, many employers are slow to hire. Inflation is still too high.

No one fully knows how the coming years will unfold. Still, as students of economics, Duke graduates and thoughtful human beings, you have the tools needed to navigate the change.

Keep your values at the forefront on that journey. Every day, in every way, try to do what is right. It will not always be easy. But you owe it to yourselves, and you owe it to the world.

I wish each of you every success. Keep looking up. Look up with admiration. Look up with curiosity. Look up with optimism. And, class of 2026, look up together.

Congratulations!