Commencement Address by Mary-Mitchell Campbell ’96, musician and volunteer

These are remarks delivered by Mary-Mitchell Campbell ’96, acclaimed musician and volunteer, at the 2026 Furman University Commencement ceremony.

Good evening, Furman graduates.

You made it! Congratulations – that’s got to feel pretty good.

To the faculty, family, and friends – and especially the Class of 2026 – thank you for welcoming me home for this. It’s a joy and an honor to be back here with you all.

Mary-Mitchell Campbell ’96

I remember sitting right where you are – so excited to be done with school, counting down the minutes until someone handed me a diploma and said, “You’re free.”

I was absolutely convinced I had my life figured out.

That…turned out not to be the case.

But look how much you HAVE figured out! You did it. You’ve graduated from college, and that is a profound accomplishment. You have worked hard for this moment, and you deserve to celebrate it.

But let’s be honest – none of us got here alone. We are all a patchwork quilt of people who loved us, supported us, pushed us, and believed in us when we couldn’t yet believe in ourselves.

If those people are here with you today, I hope you find them and thank them. Some of the people who helped me get here are here tonight, and I want them to know how much I appreciate them.

It’s also worth noting that I was a scholarship student, and I want to take a moment to thank everyone who has supported Furman over the years. Because of you, students like me – who couldn’t have afforded this education otherwise – got to be here. That’s a big deal.

I grew up in eastern North Carolina, on a farm with pigs, tobacco, and corn. I’m a little surprised no one mentioned this, but I did win the 4H county fair pig showmanship award for Wilson, North Carolina.

That’s pronounced “WilTson,” even though there is no T.

We just…added one.

My bio might sound a little fancy, but I promise you the road that led me here was anything but. It had some tough turns, some detours, and a few moments where I most certainly didn’t have it all figured out.

But along the way, there were teachers and classes here that changed my life. Again, I extend my gratitude to those special folks.

Something I did have going for me: I was always curious, always eager to learn, and I was also the kind of kid who thought, “ Yeah, yeah, I hear you, but what if I try it anyway?”

That was me.

Still is, if I’m being honest.

And that ‘what if?’, my friends, has been a game changer. A life changer.

I arrived as a piano performance major, and pretty quickly realized I wanted to pursue musical theater.

There was just one problem: There was no musical theater program.

So I started one.

That’s right, I pulled together some fellow students and announced I was going to put on a show.

Now, to be clear, I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

But I figured it out as I went. I started putting on productions where I was the director, the music director, the choreographer, the producer, floor mopper, ticket taker…I did it ALL.

So basically, if something went wrong, it was my fault.

And honestly, I probably learned more doing that – trying, failing, trying again – than I would have in a formal program.

And while I was busy doing ALL that, I took a sociology class called “Social Problems” that ignited a passion in me for helping others. And somehow, those two disparate things – musical theater making and being of service – collided in my brain.  The result: The Furman Pauper Players.

We produced musicals as fundraisers for community organizations. My sophomore year, we did “The Fantasticks” with all of the proceeds benefiting Habitat for Humanity. I even convinced Nick Radel, my wonderful English professor, to be in the show.

Which, looking back, was either leadership…or a complete lack of boundaries.

Probably a little of both.

After the success of “The Fantastiks,” the Pauper Players were on a roll. I worked with the chaplains to raise funds for United Ministries by performing “Godspell” and “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” on Parents Weekends.

And here’s the wild thing: At the time, I had no idea I was building the foundation for what would become my life’s work.

But years later, those same ideas – bringing people together, using music and storytelling to serve others – became what I do every day through Arts Ignite, the nonprofit I founded to support young people, now celebrating its 20th year.

And over time, that work has reached more than 45,000 kids. 45,000. That’s just a skosh smaller than Wilson, North Carolina.

That’s 45,000 kids who maybe didn’t think they were creative.
Kids who didn’t always feel seen.
Kids who just needed someone to say, “Your voice matters.”

I think about one student in particular: a kid who didn’t speak much English, wouldn’t make eye contact, and spent most of the first day hiding in the back of the room.

And by the end of the program, that same student was the first one to arrive every day, asking if they could lead the warm-ups, standing in front of the group, stepping into leadership.

And I remember thinking that student is why this work matters.

And I can draw a straight line from that moment right back to a college student standing on this campus, with a big idea and absolutely no idea how to pull it off.

Which is why I want you to hear this: The things you’re building right now, the thing that might feel small or uncertain or a little scrappy, it might matter more than you can possibly imagine.

It might impact more lives than you could dream.

Because here’s the weird thing about life and the passage of time: You often don’t know what is changing your life while it’s happening. You only see it when you look back.

And a gentle watchpoint – when you’re taking all those big swings, and experiencing those changes in real time, well-meaning people who care deeply about you will want to protect you.

After graduation, I moved to New York City to pursue musical theater.

People genuinely tried to be supportive, but they had watched enough Law & Order to be fairly certain this was not going to end well for me.

And when I told them what I wanted to do, I got a lot of, “That’s so…brave.”

You know the vibe.

It sounds a whole lot like “bless your heart.”

One of my favorite mentors sat me down before I left. He knew my financial situation was tight, and he told me he was worried about me.

He said, “I know how talented you are. But I’ve seen a lot of talented people try this and fail. I think you might fail. And if you do, you’ll regret not taking the safer opportunities in front of you.”

And every once in a while in life you get a moment of clarity. You just know something, even if you can’t fully explain why.

I told my mentor, “I know you care about me. And I know what you’re saying is true.

But I’m not afraid of failing.

I’m afraid of not trying.”

And just to be clear, I have failed. Many times.

Just…not permanently.

So I’ll say this to you: When you hear that voice inside you, when you’ve got a big idea, when you’re making a big decision…listen to that deep-down voice.

Even when it doesn’t make perfect sense.

Sometimes especially then.

And please, please, don’t be afraid to fail.

Because you will. You are going to fail. You’ll be bad at something. You’ll embarrass yourself. I still do, regularly.

At this point, I’ve decided to call it “growth.”  Doesn’t that sound evolved?

Failure is not the opposite of success.

Failure is an absolutely necessary and inevitable part of the journey.

It’s part of the path.

If I could go back and talk to the version of myself sitting where you are, here’s a few things I would say to younger me:

Whatever you think your life is going to be…it won’t be exactly that.

And that’s okay.

It might be more exciting. It might also be harder. There will be unexpected turns – some joyful, some painful.

Embrace all of it.

Oh yeah, and find your people, the ones who will stand with you through all of it.

And this – we are wired to look at the people who have what we want and wonder what we’re doing wrong.

We rarely take stock of what we are doing right. We talk about counting our blessings but rarely actually do.

Remember to do both.

It will keep you grounded. And it will keep you grateful.

And if you have the chance to help someone along the way, take it.

And another thing, there is no finish line where everything suddenly clicks into place.

No job, no relationship, no achievement, no amount of money is going to make you permanently happy.

If it did, somebody would have written a book about it, and we’d all have bought it.

So don’t wait for your life to begin.

You are already in it.

It’s happening right now!

Live it fully.

As you leave here today, know that you don’t need to have it all figured out.

You probably won’t. I still don’t.

Some things you CAN count on: Your life will surprise you. It will challenge you. It will break your heart sometimes.

And it may also be more beautiful than you can possibly imagine.

And finally, I encourage you to pay close attention when something deep inside you says, “this matters.”

Be brave enough to listen.

Because the truth is, the people who build meaningful lives aren’t the ones who never fail…they’re the ones who dared to try.

Congratulations, Class of 2026.

Go make the world a better place for the rest of us.

Commencement 2026 >>