Convocation for the Class of 2030 and New Transfer Students

The Class of 2030 and new transfer students began their Penn journeys on Franklin Field during a comfortable late-summer evening. The University welcomed 2,427 freshmen and transfer students from 76 countries, who were surrounded by faculty, staff, and classmates, who have gone from strangers to fellow travelers during their first week on campus.
Penn’s 287th academic year formally began during the August 24, 2026 ceremony. Speeches delivered by President J. Larry Jameson and Provost John L. Jackson, Jr. are below.

Your Penn Odyssey
President J. Larry Jameson
Class of 2030 and new transfer students: You have traveled from across the country and around the world. We are thrilled you are here. Welcome to Penn!
Convocation is all about beginnings. It is the official start of the academic year. It is also the launch of your Penn odyssey.
Many factors will influence your direction and what you do along the way. None will be more important than what I propose we do, together, right now. So please, listen closely to some simple instructions.
When I say “go,” and only when I say “go,” I want you to stand up, look around, and find someone nearby who you have not met yet.
Shake hands, say your name, say where you are from and what you hope to study.
The goal is to engage with someone new. No exceptions—not even me! I will be coming down to meet you, too.
Is everybody ready? Okay, let’s go!
Alright, everyone, please, take your seats.
Do you feel that? That leap into the unknown, that energy, is fundamental to everything that comes next.
To show you what I mean, I want to share three riddles.
The first: what could a starfish, a spaceship, and the packaging in your Amazon deliveries have in common?
Second: how might something dangerous, like venom, save more than a million lives a year?
And third: why is an ancient poem, nearly 3,000 years old, new today?
I want you to hold these riddles in your mind for a minute. The answers reveal something fundamental, even exhilarating, about your new University. I will say more about that soon.
But first, one more question, the most important one yet: Why are you here?
You have arrived with hopes and ambitions. You aim to meet brilliant faculty and make new friends. You expect to be challenged, and you aspire to learn and grow beyond what you might imagine. These things will come to be and so much more.
You are also here to be part of the life, and the work, of this University, which is older than the United States itself.
It goes back to our founder, Benjamin Franklin, a renowned philosopher, inventor, and statesman. He was legendary, even in his own time. He is famous for flying a kite and key to investigate the nature of lightning. You learned this story in elementary school but behind it was deep scientific inquiry that led to the electrification of the world.
Today, that ethos of exploration and experimentation remain the keystones of life at Penn.
Exploration and experimentation. That is why we are here.
Let’s go back to the three riddles.
What could a starfish, a spaceship, and the packaging in your deliveries have in common?
A team at Penn recently found that the skeleton of a chocolate chip starfish does double duty. It supports the animal, of course. But this skeleton also senses and concentrates light. These findings could inspire next-generation materials that are tough, lightweight, and responsive to the environment – which may protect passengers during space travel and precious cargo in your household deliveries.
Next, how might a venom save more than a million lives a year?
Our faculty recently used AI to explore more than 40 million peptides found in venom from snakes, spiders, and other creatures. The goal? To synthesize powerful new antibiotics, countering antibiotic resistance and potentially saving the lives of millions of patients.
Finally, why is an ancient poem new today?
You likely guessed it when I mentioned your Penn odyssey. Did anybody see the summer blockbuster movie, The Odyssey? Let’s see a show of hands.
Director Christopher Nolan worked from several translations of the ancient poem about the adventures of Odysseus. One special translation is the work of Penn professor and MacArthur “Genius” Grant recipient Emily Wilson. She provided a new translation of The Odyssey, breathing new life and relevance into Homer’s classic story. This required choosing how each word and phrase could be interpreted while creating a vivid story and maintaining the cadence of the poem.
The film has surpassed $1 billion in sales. Professor Wilson’s translation sold more than one million copies this year. That kind of relevance makes for more than just a pop culture moment. Timeless human stories endure because new generations find fresh ways to share and learn from them.
These examples are just three stars in the vast constellation of Penn’s research and the student experience. As you explore and experiment, you will encounter much more.
In The Odyssey, the hero turned often to the goddess, Athena, who was patron of the city of Athens, Greece, and the Parthenon. This summer, student fellows in the Penn Paideia Program got to travel to Athens and visit the Parthenon. Our Paideia Program teaches the art and science of dialogue across difference and can be an integral part of your Penn odyssey, too.
As you chart your course, you will meet many fellow travelers: amazing Penn faculty, staff, coaches and mentors, alumni, and of course your peers. You are already off to a great start, and we are all here to help you succeed.
Just as important, each of you will leave your mark on this University. Through your unique perspectives and experiences, your ideas and talents, your service and leadership, you will make Penn better.
So, explore bravely and experiment boldly. Engage with new perspectives and ideas. If something works, run with it. If a theory does not pan out, learn what you can from it and then try something else. Above all, always look for opportunities to meet someone new. Such engagement may just transform your entire journey.
Like Odysseus in the face of setbacks and challenges, you will persevere. You will have fantastic adventures. You will see and do wonderful things. It will be epic.
Class of 2030 and transfers: your Penn odyssey begins now. Let’s get started!

Rigor and Humility at Penn
Provost John L. Jackson, Jr.
As Provost—Penn’s Chief Academic Officer—it is my great pleasure to welcome you this evening.
You are entering the University at a moment of both profound turbulence and remarkable possibility. Our political landscape is unsettled; our public discourse is strained. Many are questioning the role of institutions—especially universities—in helping society navigate uncertainty. Yet it is precisely in moments like this that places like Penn matter most.
Your time here will be brief—astonishingly brief. Four years; less, for our transfers. A blink. A blip compared with Penn’s 286-year run. And in the universe’s 13.8 billion years? Not even a rounding error. Not even a blip. Though I admit that every once in a while an 8 a.m. recitation may seem like it’s taking billions of years.
But during your relatively brief time here, you have the chance to do something extraordinary: to experiment intellectually, to push yourself ideologically, to question your assumptions, and to learn how to engage the world with both rigor and humility.
Penn was founded during another era of upheaval. Our early history was full of debates about religion, curriculum, and the purpose of advanced study. Even then, people disagreed—sometimes fiercely—about what should be taught, how it should be taught, who should be taught and do the teaching.
Amid political disagreement—including among the country’s founders—Benjamin Franklin imagined a university that would prepare students not only for careers, but for citizenship: the hard work of thinking clearly, debating openly, and helping to build a better world. Some of today’s debates may be different, but the stakes are familiar. How do we learn together? How do we disagree constructively? How do we build communities capable of holding complexity without collapsing into cynicism or contempt?
I spoke a little earlier about rigor and humility. One of Penn’s earliest medical faculty members, Philip Syng Physick—often called the father of American surgery—believed that education required both precision and compassion. He argued that technical mastery meant little without a deep respect for the people one served. His view, grounded in both science and humanity, offers a model for how intellectual humility and empathy can coexist—and how they can guide us in turbulent times.
I am trained as an anthropologist. Ward Goodenough, who taught anthropology at Penn for more than forty years, before I arrived, used to say that some of his most important discoveries came not from traveling thousands of miles, but from realizing how much he had taken for granted before he ever left home. After months of fieldwork in Micronesia, he wrote that the greatest shock was not encountering a different culture, but recognizing how deeply his own unexamined assumptions shaped the way he interpreted the world. That moment—when the familiar becomes strange and the strange becomes familiar, as anthropologists like to say—was, for him, the essence of ethnographic insight. It’s a reminder that genuine discovery begins with humility: the willingness to let your own worldview be unsettled.
My advice for you is to cultivate both humility and empathy. And to develop habits of mind that allow you to navigate political times without being negatively consumed or debilitated by them. To learn how to listen deeply, argue honestly, and recognize the humanity in people whose experiences and worldviews differ profoundly from your own.
Also: Use your time here to connect dots between fields that may seem, at first glance, to have nothing in common. Study engineering and poetry. Economics and environmental justice. Neuroscience and philosophy. The more disparate the dots, the more surprising—and transformative—the connections will be. And don’t forget to visit a special field: this one! Historic Franklin Field, as well as our one-and-only Palestra—this year, celebrating its Centennial. Make memories in these spaces, because you’ll cherish those memories for the rest of your life.
And it sounds simple, even banal. But talk to each other. Talk to people who grew up differently than you did, who pray differently, who vote differently, who imagine the future differently. Not to win arguments, but to understand the complex constitution of this vast world we all share. To model a way of engaging that privileges intellectual humility and our common humanity.
Take advantage of everything Penn offers: thousands of courses, hundreds of student groups, our cultural centers, our athletic traditions, and this extraordinary city. Explore widely. Ask big questions. Let yourself be changed. Above all: get involved. Penn has long been a place where students engage deeply with questions of speech, liberty, and democracy—not through polemics and partisanship, but through curiosity, dialogue, and a commitment to understanding the world in all its vastness. That tradition is yours to carry forward.
Your time here may be brief. But what you do with it—how you think, how you listen, how you grow—will shape your trajectory long after you leave campus. Members of the class of 2030 and transfers: Welcome to Penn.