They come to college to learn. To attend classes, complete assignments, study, write, take tests, and hope for good grades. They read and research. They work hard and stay up late. They carry heavy bags and heavier expectations. 

Learning—that’s the reason they’re here.

But if we pay attention, if we listen with open ears and hearts, we’ll realize something: they’re teaching us, too.

Their classrooms become our classrooms. Their questions become our invitations. Their wonder becomes our reminder.

Let us hear them—their songs and prayers and stories, their questions and ideas and confessions.

They raise issues we might ignore. They alert us to tendencies we might miss. They remind us of deep truths we sometimes forget.

What an honor it is to read their thoughts, to hear their narratives, to consider their insights, to agree with their prayers.

Sometimes they speak through laughter in the cafeteria. Sometimes through tears during chapel. Sometimes through silence that says more than words ever could.

If you think this generation offers little hope for the future, please meet them. Spend time with them. Share a meal. Listen to their stories.

Like us, they have weaknesses and wounds. Like us, they have doubts and distractions. Like us, they are learning to live and love and trust.

But each student is unique. Each one is important. Each one is valuable. Each one is needed.

Hope for the future doesn’t come from pretending everything is fine. It comes from seeing the best in the young leaders who are already rising.

It comes from recognizing that God is still working in this generation—still creating, still calling, still teaching.

As we teach them, let us also learn from them.

Let us listen, really listen, and remember that in every classroom, in every prayer, in every story—God is still speaking through His students.