It is with great humility that I extend my gratitude to our University’s esteemed faculty, staff, alumni and fellow students. I would not be standing here without your support and the love and care of my friends and family.
There is a Vietnamese proverb I heard growing up so often that it became background noise: Ăn quả nhớ kẻ trồng cây. When eating fruit, remember the one who planted the tree.
You see, my father was an ex-seminarian in Vietnam, a philosophical thinker who communicated almost exclusively in Vietnamese proverbs and parables that ended with lessons. Có chí thì nên. If you have the will, you will succeed. Or Tiền nào của nấy. You get what you pay for. He’d drop these like seasoning on every meal.
One time, I was complaining about something trivial (probably a group project, maybe a grade). What’d I hear? “Một con ngựa đau, cả tàu bỏ cỏ.” When one horse is sick, the whole stable refuses grass. I stared at him. He stared back. Then he said, “Fix ya face, fix ya attitude, you’re ruining the vibes.”
I didn’t appreciate it then. But I remember it now. Because what he was really teaching me, under all these proverbs, was gratitude. As I stand here, I remember my father planting these seeds of wisdom through proverbs and parables.
When you eat fruit, remember who planted the tree.
The farmers who picked it. The truck drivers who transported it. The clerks who stocked it. My parents, who cut it for me before I ever had to lift a knife. All the hands that made this possible along the way — I thank them.
When we are enjoying the fruits of our achievements here today, it is only right to remember those who planted the seeds within us.
Our parents, guardians and families for their love and sacrifice. The faculty who stayed after class, answered the panicked emails, and somehow made us believe we could actually do this. And the facilities staff — who fixed every single power outage we had this semester. Please, a round of applause for all of them!
Here’s the thing about fruit, though. You don’t stop needing it after one meal.
When I graduated with my bachelor’s degree in 2018, at the ripe age of 22, I thought I knew just about everything. I had the degree, the confidence, the whole life laid out perfectly for me. Spoiler alert: It did not work out that way. Life humbled me. Quietly, then all at once. And somewhere in that humbling, I remembered another proverb: Đi một ngày đàng, học một sàng khôn. Go out one day and return with a basketful of knowledge.
I thought learning wasn’t necessary anymore when the diploma was in my hand. But every detour, every unexpected turn - those became my days of travel - and with each one, I added more to my basket.
So as you take your next steps — into new jobs, graduate school or the beautiful uncertainty of figuring it out — keep traveling. Keep learning. Keep adding to that basket. Your knowledge is your greatest asset. Don’t let anyone convince you that you’re done growing.
The last proverb I’ll leave you with is the one that’s carried me through this year: Lá lành đùm lá rách. Intact leaves wrap torn leaves.
In nature, when a leaf is torn or damaged, the healthy leaves around it shelter it and protect it. Help it survive.
Some of us will leave with job offers, acceptance into grad school, clear plans. Others are leaving with more questions than answers. Not one of you is ahead. Not one of you is behind. But here is what I know: No one in this room got here alone. And no one from this room should have to figure out what comes next alone either.
When you have something to give, be the intact leaf. Wrap around someone who is struggling. And when you’re the one who’s torn, let yourself be wrapped. That’s not weakness, that’s how any of us make it through.
My father spent years instilling in me all these proverbs and parables, but the one I keep coming back to is the one of gratitude: Ăn quả nhớ kẻ trồng cây. When eating fruit, remember the one who planted the tree.
Today, that fruit is this degree. And we’ve named the hands that made it possible.
But tomorrow, you will become the planter. Someone will eat the fruit of your labor — your kindness, your patience — and they may never know your name. That’s the point.
So go out. Keep adding to your basket.
And when you see a torn leaf, wrap around it.
That’s how you honor the ones who planted for you.
That’s how you become one of them. Because they are all part of you.
Thank you.
Angie Vo is graduating with a PhD in arts, technology, and emerging communication. She has been involved in several student organizations, including as a contributing member of LabSynthE and the Studio for Mediating Play, and has served as the ATEC representative for the Bass School’s Association of Graduate Students. She has been published in the International Journal of Communication and is an active member of the Texas Association for Asian American Diaspora Studies. She also volunteers her time teaching language, culture and faith to Vietnamese American youth to build strong communities in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. After graduation, she plans to teach in D-FW and run free community lectures that provide critical analysis tools to laypeople.
