Delivered from the podium on March 27, 2026. A first-generation graduate, the son of migrant farm workers, speaking on what universities are for.
Thank you. Provost Hegedus, Chair Guay, Governor Lamont, Senator Blumenthal, distinguished guests, members of the WestConn community — students, faculty, staff, alumni, families, partners, and friends — thank you.
To my family — my husband, my parents, my brothers and sisters, my niece and nephews — thank you for the love that made it possible to stand here.
To the migrant farm workers of South Texas — my mother and father among them — thank you for teaching me that dignity does not depend on a title, and that work done with care is never small.
What are universities for?
That is the question that sits underneath everything we do. And in this moment, in this country, it is a question we cannot leave unanswered.
A university is for the student who is told, explicitly or implicitly, that college may not be "for them" — and who walks through our doors anyway.
It is for the parent working two jobs who looks at a credential and sees a different life for their children.
It is for the community whose future depends on whether the regional public university stays serious about its mission.
It is for democracy itself — because there is no version of a healthy democracy that does not include accessible, affordable, excellent public higher education.
I see you. You belong here. Your story matters here. That is the welcome.
Education had the power to change the direction of a life. I know this not because I read it in a study. I know it because it changed mine.
I am the son of migrant farm workers. I am a first-generation college graduate. And I am standing here today because somewhere along the way, somebody welcomed me, wove me into a community of challenge and care, and widened the path so that I could see further than I had been told I was allowed to look.
Welcome. Weave. Widen. That is the work.
Every university is woven from thousands of threads. The professor who stays late. The advisor who knows your name. The custodian who keeps the lights on. The alum who calls back. The parent who drives the hour. The mayor who answers the call. The legislator who shows up. A living tapestry of people, ideas, and possibility — and every thread matters.
At WestConn, we wrap support around each student so that no one falls through the cracks. We design systems that recognize students as whole people. We treat the regional public university not as the backup plan, but as the plan.
And we do not just open doors wider here. We build doors where there weren't any.
That is the promise. That is the work. And that is what an inauguration is for — not to elevate a person, but to renew a commitment.
To the students: this is your university. We are here to serve you.
To the faculty and staff: thank you for the work that does not always get a stage. Today the stage belongs to you, too.
To our families, our alumni, our partners, and our community: we cannot do this without you. We do not want to.
To Connecticut: we will keep showing up. We will keep weaving. We will keep widening.
Wolves — let's get to work.
