There are moments that divide your life into a 'then' and a 'now'. May 17, 2025, was one of them.
At Lugano Arte e Cultura, beneath soft lights and the weight of a hundred memories, 99 students crossed a stage—and something invisible shifted. Franklin University Switzerland didn’t just celebrate a Commencement—it marked the end of a shared dream and the beginning of a thousand more.
We held our breath. And then we let go.
From over 50 countries—Brazil, Italy, Kenya, Hungary, Turkey, Jordan, South Africa, the U.S., France, and so many more—graduates stood side by side, the world in their eyes. Friends. Strangers turned soulmates. A mosaic of languages, perspectives, dreams. This is what Franklin is: a place where borders blur and hearts expand.
President Dr. Samuel Martín-Barbero spoke first—not from a podium, but from the heart of the community he’s helped shape. “Education must continue throughout life,” he reminded us, quoting Justice Louis Brandeis. But his words felt more like a benediction: You’ve begun something, and you must never stop.
Then came Dr. Paul C. Lowerre, Chair of the U.S. Board of Trustees. His voice carried the story of Franklin itself—from its birth in 1969, sparked by the vision of four dreamers, to the thriving family of over 8,000 alumni across the world. He didn’t just welcome us. He handed us the torch.
What followed was one of those moments that make you reach for someone’s hand. Dr. Pascal F. Tone—co-founder, mentor, storyteller—paid tribute to his lifelong friend and fellow founder, the late Dr. Jacques Villaret. He spoke not only of what Villaret built, but of who he was: the warmth, the wit, the joy of discovery during Academic Travel. As Ludovico D’Anna, Villaret’s nephew, accepted the posthumous Medal of Honor, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.
Adrian Monck, our Keynote Speaker and Senior Advisor to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development, stepped up with the quiet authority of someone who has seen the world—and believes we can change it. “Listen,” he said. “Challenge what you know. Cross the boundaries.” And then, the line that will live in us forever: “Fly higher than the Alps.”
There was still more to feel.
David Mills, Dean of Academic Affairs, conferred the title of Professor Emeritus on Erich Prisner—a gesture of deep respect to a man who helped shape countless minds and whose legacy will echo through Franklin’s halls long after we’re gone.
And then—Noor Badr.
Chosen by her peers, Noor spoke not just to us, but for us. Her multilingual speech reached everyone in the room, not just through language, but through the heart. She reminded us of the beauty of this strange, brilliant, sometimes messy, always magical community. She reminded us that we’ll never be alone in the world—not really. Franklin will always be a thread running through our stories.
The diplomas were handed out. Hands were shaken. Names were called.
And then, the moment we knew would move us—in the best way: the turning of the tassels. The caps tossed into the air. The breathless laughter. The parents’ tears. And maybe—just maybe—one glance toward the ceiling, wondering if time could stop, just for a second.
But it doesn’t stop. And that’s the point.
Our classmates will travel across the globe—some to top graduate schools like LSE, UCL, Trinity College Dublin, Columbia University, YALE University, or the University for Peace in Costa Rica. Others to careers in diplomacy, fashion, international law, or entrepreneurship. Some to job interviews with global names like Amazon and Hugo Boss. And many still searching, wandering, growing. All of them are Franklin.
The reception afterward was golden. The kind of golden hour you only get once. Professors and students. Families and friends. Smiles with a trace of sadness. Hugs that lasted too long, and not long enough.
Because Commencement isn’t just an ending. It’s the last page of a story you never wanted to finish. And the first page of the one you were born to write.
To the Class of 2025:
You are not just ready for the world.
You are what the world is waiting for.