Hello, Dartmouth, and thank you to President Beilock, and the Board of Trustees, for this invitation to speak to you today. Welcome to families and friends, to the faculty and the staff. And even some dogs wearing green bandanas! And hello to the graduating Class of 2026!!!

Welcome! We are here to celebrate your achievement for today you earn your degree. And not to brag but I am also earning a degree here today. For most of you, that’s a bachelor of arts. For me, it’s a doctorate. For you it took four long years. And for me less than a minute. I guess I’m just a quick study. You know, it doesn’t matter, this isn’t about comparing. The point is we’re all wearing robes and at the end of the day, we all put our robes on one leg at a time. 

Of course I’d be remiss if I didn’t welcome my fellow doctorate scholars. We’re all doctors now together. We’re the same. You were an ambassador or something? You researched algorithms for solving geometric optimization problems? That’s great. I had a crazy eyebrow move up and down in an Adam Sandler movie. Yeah they know. I was on SNL. Have any of my fellow doctors worn 13 wigs in one night? You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to get into your personal lives. It doesn’t matter. We’re the same now. Equal footing. 

Yes I’ve done TV, movies, and currently I’m on Broadway in the Rocky Horror Show and have to leave right after this speech to go do the matinee! I know! I’m fancy! But class of ’26, I’m not just here as any random celeb speaker. I come to you as a proud alumna of Dartmouth College!! Class of ’88!

I’m especially honored to address you as a woman, as Dartmouth marks a special anniversary: 50 years since Dartmouth started admitting women. Yes, let’s all applaud something other colleges did 100 years earlier. Dartmouth: We’ll get there eventually. But you gotta give it up for those first women. They endured catcalls, ridicule, and sexism from men who felt threatened by their brilliance. Thankfully, those things never happen today. 

Before Dartmouth went coed 50 years ago, there were zero women in Dartmouth’s graduating class, and zero women in the Senate, but now your class is half female, and the Senate is 26% female! Hmm, I thought that was going to be a more impressive number when I started talking. Shoot, that’s still not great.

But still, Dartmouth has come a long way, producing women Olympic athletes to scientists to yes, from my class, one of those 26 women senators. And this Dartmouth woman is 100% glad to be back!

And I’m here because I get you, Class of ’26! We have all had the same experiences! I have walked these same paths, studied at these same desks, run around the same bonfires at Homecoming.

We have all scrambled through the snow, from a party, in 10 below weather, having lost our coat, in ankle boots and a slinky party top. 

We have all lived at 311 Hitchcock freshman year, gotten a bad lottery number, and been booted down to the River Cluster sophomore fall. The River Cluster—our first taste of studying abroad.

We have all overslept our modern art history final exam, woke up with five minutes left in the test, and booked it over to Silsby begging the professor to let you take the test right there in your pajamas? 

OK, maybe some of these just happened to me. The point is, I once sat in the same seats you sit in right now. And if you ever told me I would do the Commencement speech one day, well I would be shocked. 

Mainly because I didn’t feel like the quintessential Dartmouth student. It took me a while to feel like I fit in here. I guess it all started with my freshman trip. I picked the easiest level-one hike. Graduates, this hike was perfectly flat. It was so flat, there was literally a girl who did it on crutches. Yeah, she had signed up for a higher level trip but sprained her ankle being a tennis champion or something, and could literally do my trip on crutches. I caught up to her eventually. And I remain opposed to hikes to this day. 

But my sophomore winter I got into the improv group here, called Said and Done, and there it was: I felt at home and I found my crowd. I spent most of my time at the Hop, finally getting into some of the plays there. Not only that, my social life really started to really blossom. I was surrounded by men. A swarm of adoring handsome Dartmouth men around me all the time. Now, turns out they were all gay and they came out after graduation. In hindsight I was developing my fan base early.

Shout-out to Chris, Tom, and Bob, who are here in the crowd today. Jeff, Dan, and David couldn’t make it. They’re probably dancing shirtless at a Pride event right now, and look damn good doing it. 

And now I’m kicking this Commencement speech into high gear. I think I can relate to the youth of today. Why, to give this speech I was low-key pumped and lowkenuinely hype. See. I get you.

Standing behind this venerated stump, I feel like the Lorax, only not as tall. I’ll bestow you with wisdom to launch you into the world on your life path. Sure, when my speech started you were uncertain, lost and sad. Thanks to mere minutes of me speaking you’ll have a sense of purpose, you’ll be standing up a little straighter, your hair more lustrous, and you’ll be ready to take on the world. 

Some of you may know what your plans are next, some may not. When I sat where you are, I did not. I had this crazy little dream that I wanted to try to maybe become an actor. It sounded insane. I had no idea how to achieve this, but I knew I wanted to at least try.

I did major in theater here, (modified with psychology!) so if it didn’t work out I could always become a therapist in the suburbs of Boston. But how does one try for a thing for which there is no set path? I thought I’d do what everyone does who doesn’t know what’s next—apply to grad school. For acting grad school, you can go to this audition where you do your monologues in front of, like 40 schools—at this ONE audition. And guess what. I was rejected by my number one choice. 

I was also rejected by choices 2 through 40. That’s right:

I didn’t get in anywhere. I was starting off on my quest with a giant capital letters NO. I could have taken that to mean “you aren’t good enough to even try acting.” Forty experts just told you that! 

But the grad school “no” made me change course and take the big risk of moving to Chicago to try to get into the renowned Second City comedy theater. First step for that—their classes. Lucky for me, I was told that anyone with a little improv experience and a pulse could get into these classes—and I had both credentials! 

But guess what. I did not get in. To the classes. Another big no. I had moved here for this! A reasonable person might have packed it in right there but something in me told me to stick with it and the next time around, I did get into class, went on to do improv in the back of bars, then Second City touring company, then MainStage and finally, a chance to audition for SNL. This meteoric rise took nine years. And Rachel, that’s when you got the job? Nope! I didn’t get hired off my first audition at SNL either! But I got to audition again the following year and then that’s when I got the phone call. I was hired by Saturday Night Live.

So here’s what I want you to take from my experience—don’t let those rejections define who you are and make you lose faith in yourself. Sure the word “no” can sting. And, believe me, It still can! But sometimes a “no” is just a “not yet.” Maybe it’s just not the right moment. Maybe you need a little more training and experience. And maybe like me with grad school, that “no” can be a magical guardrail pointing you to a “yes” you hadn’t even thought of!

Ok. So I “followed my dream.” I made it from Dartmouth to Saturday Night Live. “That’s great, Dr. Dratch,” you’re thinking. “It all worked out. You got to pursue your little individual comedy dream.”

But we are graduating in a different time. Look at the world right now! Friends have been asking me, Rachel, what are you going to tell the graduates? And I say “Oh, I’m not going to tell them anything negative. La la la la. I’m keeping it light and breezy.” But I have a friend who will address these dark times we are living in, head on. She does not hold back. With assistance from your own classmate, Noah Prescott, let’s give a brief part of the speech over to Debbie Downer.

(As Debbie Downer): 

• Hello graduates. What an honor it is to be out here on the beautiful green. Careful on the lawn, ladies. If you’re wearing any sort of a heel, wet grass can be a tripping hazard. (WAAH WAAAH)
• Quite an achievement graduating from Dartmouth. Of course, thanks to AI there won’t be any jobs left, so congrats to all on your mandatory gap years. (WAAAH WAAAH.)
• It’s inspiring to see all your fresh minds ready to take on our world. Sadly, due to the construction of data centers and the impending water wars, the most useful college majors now are foraging and hand-to-hand combat. (Waaaaaah)
• Yeah, AI may take all our jobs and clean drinking water. But at least we can all see what we’d look like as Leather Daddy Santa. (WAAAAAH WAAAAAAH)

All right, that’s enough out of you, Debbie Downer! Give it up for Noah on the sad trombone!

Well, I sincerely hope one or more of you becomes a benevolent world leader who will cure all the world’s ills. But that is a lot to ask. So, I try to fight off life’s downers by doing what I can with how I show up in the world— for me, that’s to try to make people laugh. Or give them an escape from their day in a play or a movie. 

You are going to bring your own unique talents into the world, using gifts you have naturally, combined with the Dartmouth education you are so lucky to have had. Maybe that means being a scientist who finds breakthrough cures, a lawyer who frees the innocent, the conservationist who protects our planet, the director of an arts center, like our newly renovated Hop we have right here, inspiring people to create art which is a key element to triumph over the world’s downers. Or maybe you share your gifts by being a yoga instructor, a rabbi, a death doula or a painter, like the friends from my class who came up here today.

You’re leaving Dartmouth with the tools and knowledge you can use for good. I mean look at me, I took one film class here and now I can say “I think Truffaut expressed it best in his film Les Quatre Cents Coups.” It makes me insufferable at cocktail parties. And that’s really what an Ivy league education is all about. But remember, no matter how smart you are, you don’t know everything, and there are lots of people who didn’t get to go to college, who may know more than you on a variety of topics. So keep it humble, Dartmouth. 

But life beyond Dartmouth isn’t just about what you’ve learned, and it’s about way more than your career. What sustains me at the end of the day isn’t signing autographs after my Broadway show, meeting Paul McCartney at the SNL 50th, or my solid gold toilet that all celebrities use due to its cooling properties. It’s not even my standing weekly reservation at Per Se for a 16-course tasting menu with wine pairing. Though now that I say it loud, those things are pretty awesome. No. It’s my family, my dog Ruffles, and my friends who feel like family, many of whom I met right here at Dartmouth.

Which brings me to a takeaway I’d like to share from my life in comedy. Improv is all about the ensemble. You’re building scenes together with no script! To do that you need listening, you need trust, and it helps if you have fun! And the best part is, if one night, you’re not bringing your “A” game, you won’t be left hanging on stage because someone else can jump in and save the scene. And you will do the same for them! The safety of the ensemble makes the unknown less scary. 

Class of 2026, look around. This is your ensemble. This is the last time your class will all be gathered in one place, but this is by no means the end of your class connection. Hopefully you have a friend group from Dartmouth, like I do all these years later. We have our text chains. We are there for births, vacations and yes, funerals. Take it from me, your friendships from here can be for life. 

But maybe you are someone who didn’t get very social here or felt like you weren’t part of the mainstream. You don’t bleed green or have granite in your muscles and your brains. I’m talking to you too. 

You may end up best friends with someone sitting here right now that you barely knew all four years. This actually happened to me with my friend Ricki. We did one play together my sophomore year and that was it. But years later she was making a documentary about women in comedy and reached out to me. We eventually became best friends who vacation together and do holidays, we’re practically family!

Or you’ll go to a reunion. Some people hold back on going because they don’t feel they’ve achieved this or that, and I say just go! I’ve gone to every one and not because I was “rah rah Dartmouth.” What often happens is you meet someone interesting you never knew before. Or, you may have a conversation with someone who you previously thought was total bee-yotch and then you’re like, you know what, I was wrong. She’s only a partial bee-yotch and she was carrying her own pain at the time. I’m mature enough to see that now. Or a guy who you thought was a real asshat frat bro and you go to Reunion and you’re like you know what? I was right all along. 

That’s not the point I’m trying to make. The point is you have an ensemble! Of course you’ll go on to connect with people beyond Dartmouth. But keep the ensemble strong! Rely on each other. Celebrate each other. And be there for each other for difficulties too—not just the shiny stuff that gets written up in class notes. 

Make the agreement that just being in the class of 2026 together is enough of a bond. This isn’t the end of your class as a class. In fact it’s kind of a beginning, it’s called a commencement!

One more life lesson from the world of comedy, before I go. 

There’s a saying in improv to “follow the fear.” A little bit of stage fright is actually a good thing.

There you are on stage not knowing what you’re going to do next. Following the fear means you are going to give a heightened energized performance. You’re alert and ready for anything. And you will most likely find something to say you didn’t know you had in you, something much better than anything you could have planned. So if you’re having any kind of fear about leaving Hanover, remember, that fear can mean you’re about to do something you didn’t think you could. 

They say attaching a physical action to a thought makes the thought stick with you longer. I remember that from my Learning class in psychology, Professor Jernstedt here, but maybe it’s something I just saw on TikTok. I’m not sure. 

Anyway, there’s this ritual we do in improv before stepping out on stage. We go up to everyone in the group and touch their back and say, “Got your back.” It’s a concrete way to connect and know you have support for whatever’s about to happen!. 

So now, class of 2026, to lock in your ensemble, Reach out—yes, with your actual hands—and clap the backs of the people next to you. Say, “Got your back,” and mean it! There now you’ve sealed it in. 

Well, I did what I said I was going to do, changed your lives with this Commencement speech. You’ve worked so hard and you’re ready to step out in that big improv scene of life! 

I hope you use your extraordinary gifts to fill the world with purpose, joy and community, ‘cause it can be a real shit show out there. (Waah waaaah) Wait a minute, Noah! We’re not going to end this whole speech with a sad trombone (waaaah?) We’re going to end with happy trombones, and other brass instruments. Because remember, the ensemble will always have your back! 

CONGRATULATIONS, CLASS OF 2026! Hit it!