The World Is Ours: A Message to the Class of 2026

There is a strange feeling that comes with writing this. Not strange in a bad way, but strange in the way that only the truly significant moments in life tend to feel. Surreal. Final. And yet, somehow, exactly right. This is my last message to my Brother Rats as Class President, and I want it to be honest, personal, and worthy of everything we have been through together. On August 20th, 2022, 375 individuals arrived at VMI from every corner of the world, from Thailand and Taiwan, from England, from both coasts of this country, and everywhere in between. We were strangers then, shaped by different upbringings, different ambitions, different fears. What we shared, though we could not yet have known it, was the willingness to walk through a door that most people would not. Today, 276 of us walk out the other side. That is not a small thing. Nearly a hundred of our original number did not finish with us, and I think it is worth pausing to sit with that fact, not with sorrow, but with an honest appreciation for what it means to still be standing. When I reflect on our four years, I am struck by just how much change surrounded us while we held steady. Over the course of our cadetship, we saw two Deputy Commandants, two Commandants, and two Superintendents. Two different governors led the Commonwealth of Virginia. Two different presidents led the nation. The world around us was in constant motion, and yet the Class of 2026 remained intact, bound together by something that leadership transitions and political climates simply could not touch. That is the nature of what we built here. It was never about who was in charge at the top. It was about who we were to each other at the bottom, in the barracks, in the early mornings, in the hardest moments. I think about our Rats often when I reflect on what this class accomplished. Despite being the smallest class in recent memory, we mentored 450 Rats at the peak of the year. We brought back the weekend breakout, breaking a four-year weekday streak, and on a January morning when the thermometer read 18 degrees, we showed up and gave our Rats the kind of breakout they deserved. The cold did not stop us. It never does. And then there was February. When legislative bills threatened the fabric of this institution, it was the leaders and members of this class who helped change the conversation. What I witnessed in those days was something I will carry with me for the rest of my life: a group of young men and women standing up, not out of convenience, but out of conviction. Because the Code of a Cadet was not just something we memorized. It was something we lived. We do not judge one another by race, sex, or religion. We judge by honor, integrity, and the willingness to put others first. We proved, under pressure, that we meant it. I will be honest with you about something, in the way that only a personal letter can be. Over the years, I have quietly wondered whether all of this would translate. Whether the discipline, the sacrifice, the long hours, cold mornings, and penalty tours, whether any of it would actually matter once we stepped outside these walls. I do not have a clean answer to that yet. I am just a cadet, like you, standing at the edge of something enormous and unknown. But here is what I do know: if we survived VMI, we can survive anything. The world is ours. So why not reach for what you actually want? The career you have been quietly dreaming about. The opportunity that feels just slightly out of reach. The person. Listen to that voice. VMI taught us, more than anything, that success follows those who go after it. Not those who wait for the right moment or the right conditions, but those who move, regardless of circumstance. You woke up before the sun for PT, and you got after it; the world is yours. You were pulled out of sleep in the dead of night because someone broke the Honor Code, and you held the line anyway. The world is yours. You attacked the day in January, cold and August heat, without complaint; the world is yours. You marched penalty tours and climbed those Kilbourne stairs and sat through hours in the academic buildings, pouring your sweat and your time and, sometimes, your tears into something bigger than yourself. The world is yours. And you poured all of that into each other, too. That is what makes it ours. The world is full of people who are content with the bare minimum, who watch the arena from the stands. We did not do that. We lived in the arena. We were shaped by it. And because of that, when the bright lights of a big moment eventually find us, a consequential decision, a leadership test, a moment that affects the lives of those around us, we will not fold. We will not break. The lights do not make us better. They only illuminate what was already there: four years of sacrifice, consistency, and the daily choice to do the hard right thing over the easy wrong one. To the friends and family who will read this: the cadets you raised and supported are ready. More than ready. To my Brother Rats: as you charge into this world, remember what was instilled in us from our very first days as Rats. Everything is earned, not given. Hold onto that. Justify the space you occupy, every single day. You will no longer succeed within the walls of VMI. You will succeed with the limitless horizons the world offers. RahVaMIl.Rah '23. Rah '29. And most importantly, Rah '26. The Cadet is 100% self-supporting. Please help us continue our work as the voice of the Corps and alumni with a donation at www.thecadetfoundation.org