Jamaal Lockings, who in March was elected the permanent class president for the class of 2024, was called upon to deliver remarks on behalf of his fellow graduates at this year’s Sunflower Ceremony.
The Houston native was greeted with thunderous applause as arrived at the podium and was later saluted with a raucous standing ovation upon the conclusion of his remarks.
“When each of us made a decision to pursue a career in law, we weren’t merely embarking on an academic pursuit. Rather, from the very moment we stepped foot into law school, we were drawn into a timeless conversation that has and will continue to shape our nation,” Lockings began.
“Our class, once faced with navigating the tail end of the pandemic, has now forged a legacy marked by resilience and renewal.” Lockings’s own legacy at Texas Law includes a multitude of school service positions. He served as the Student Bar Association president during the 2022-23 school year; was selected as a Dean’s Fellow for the law school’s Society Program; mentored undergraduates through the law school admissions process as part of the Pipeline Program; and was an active member of the student organizations OUTLaw and the Thurgood Marshall Legal Society. Before law school, he earned his B.A. from the University of Central Arkansas, where he was a double major in communications and public relations, with a minor in interdisciplinary studies. Lockings will next relocate to Washington, D.C., to serve as a fellow with the Alliance for Justice.
A full transcript of his remarks can be viewed below the video of his speech.
Thank you, Dean Chesney, Dean Bangs, distinguished members of the Texas Law administration and faculty, cherished family—both by blood and by choice—and dear friends, for joining us today as we celebrate the remarkable Class of 2024.
As we dive into today’s celebration, we can’t help but picture what comes next: the hugs from loved ones, enjoying free food and drinks on our family’s tab. And of course, there’s the inevitable barrage of legal questions, to which we’ll just shrug and say, “It depends.” But to ensure we celebrate this momentous occasion properly, I think it is essential to reflect on the journey that led us here.
When each of us made a decision to pursue a career in law, we weren’t merely embarking on an academic pursuit; rather, from the very moment we stepped foot into law school, we were drawn into a timeless conversation that has and will continue to shape our nation. Our class, once faced with navigating the tail end of the pandemic, has now forged a legacy marked by
resilience and renewal.
In the beginning, the introductions we made at our Zoom orientation flowed seamlessly into re- introductions in person. Those early days of 1L were filled with reading too many cases with too little comprehension as we aimlessly tried to figure out who the reasonable person was, what the difference was in doing something intentionally and knowingly, and whether eye contact with the professor actually led to a cold call.
And yet, in all of our uncertainty about how to understand what the law is, we certainly had opinions about what we thought the law should be. As we explored our history, we examined the rule of law as both a tool of oppression and one of liberation. We discussed constitutional principles, highlighting the struggles and victories of being one of the only nations to demonstrate the vitality of a multiracial democracy. And even before we completely grasped the complexities of legal analysis, we were captivated by the allure of absolutes, convinced the majority opinion should always align with our beliefs.
Yet, as the year unfolded, we began to understand that the reality was far more nuanced than we had initially imagined. We discovered that the law is rarely, if ever, a realm of absolutes, but rather a dynamic landscape shaped by diverse perspectives, competing interests, and evolving societal norms. We were taught to prevail through discomfort—to acknowledge the space between the positions we may like to take, and those that we were tasked with taking—and came out stronger for it. It was in these moments of tension that we began to think like lawyers, read like lawyers, write like lawyers, and—unfortunately for our loved ones—argue like lawyers. But don’t be fooled—we made plenty of memories outside of the classroom.
We had our weekly Bar Review sessions, where the fun was doubled if you didn’t have an early class the next day. And for those guests who aren’t familiar, Bar Review is our weekly Thursday night study session, typically at a bar, fueled by vodka Red Bulls and lone stars. We shared laughs at society games, temporarily forgetting our friendships as we competed for the opportunity to gloat over tug-of-war wins. And who could forget the memorable fire drill during law prom, sparked by a brilliant classmate’s decision to vape right under a smoke detector?
And through all of this, without us even realizing, we created relationships that would nourish us through one of the most challenging academic journeys. Unlike many of our peer institutions, we rejected toxic levels of competitiveness and instead chose to offer a helping hand to one another in times of need, whether it was offering words of encouragement after a less-than-ideal cold call or helping decipher a particularly challenging issue spotter. We became each other’s staunchest allies and learned to celebrate each other’s victories as if they were our own. In the end we saw our stumbles become sources of motivation. Realizing that the challenges of law school went beyond exams and papers to include balancing life, we entered our second year with increased confidence and sharper minds—realizing that that pesky imposter syndrome had no real merit.
2L allowed our class to step into leadership roles as mentors and advocates. That year, our state legislature proposed and passed legislation that threatens to disrupt the dynamic and inclusive community we had worked to cultivate. Still, organizations like APALSA and CHLSA were able to teach us a bit of history from their cultural heritage, while the Thurgood Marshall Legal Society initiated the inaugural Black Women’s Brunch—a gathering dedicated to celebrating the achievements of black women in our community. Through these organizations and many more, our classmates brought a sense of belonging to each student—while at the same time testing the bounds of their own leadership skills.
For many, this participation in student groups was merely the first step in a long practice of thoughtful dedication to their community. Our class participated in clinics and pro bono projects, with almost half of our class fulfilling more than 50 hours of pro bono work. What’s more, nearly a third of our class went above and beyond, dedicating over 100 hours of legal service to our community. Through these efforts, we expanded access to our justice system, directly impacting individuals and driving tangible change. These experiences allowed for us to anchor all of our studying in something far more substantial than a grade.
And finally this year: our last year, the one that felt like it was gone in the blink of an eye and also inexplicably long. Speaking of which, I want to shout out those who journeyed from kindergarten straight into law school. For my fellow K through JDs, I have only one thought: I am so tired.
Looking beyond the classroom, we find ourselves brimming with excitement about future careers and fellowships, but also a bit of anxiety as we realize we’re returning to a world constrained by the very challenges we sought to overcome in our first year. We are tasked with being models of civility in a society gripped by absolutism and polarization. We have spent three years learning how to communicate effectively, and are now being released back into a world that has forgotten how to listen.
Our class has had the privilege of lessons given gently. We have learned how to face opposition with grace, compassion, and composure. We have learned to approach problems with a curiosity fine-tuned to seek out a solution. We have learned to live and grow around those with whom we simply cannot find common ground. These are hard-won skills, and our class has had the benefit of three years of mentors and guidance to learn them. It is my belief that we leave this experience with a responsibility to bring these skills into our new communities—to help our friends and family disagree in productive and empathetic ways. To love better, and to fight better.
At risk of being a cliche, I will now quote the West Wing: Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world. It is the only thing that ever has. My fellow classmates, we now find ourselves at the end, facing a new beginning. Everything you lose is a step you take… and it is SO exciting. cannot wait to see what you all do with your new beginnings.
As soon-to-be graduates of Texas Law, we know that what starts here changes the world. The world awaits your brilliance, your compassion, and your unwavering dedication to the pursuit of a just and equitable society. Go forth and be the change-makers our world so desperately needs. But first, I hope you each take the time to congratulate yourselves. This is a remarkable achievement, and you’ve earned it. Congratulations to the Class of 2024. Hook ’em!