Roger Ramirez-Barrios told the Class of 2026 they were like parasites. It was a compliment.

Calling veterinary college graduates a bunch of parasites is not what the adoring parents, friends, and families were expecting.

But as Roger Ramirez-Barrios, clinical professor of veterinary parasitology, walked to the podium, he had a plan prepared, ready to engage the Class of 2026 Virginia-Maryland College of Veterinary Medicine commencement audience in an unexpected way. 

He had a poster rolled up under his arm. A few minutes into his speech, he unfurled it. A cartoon parasite. He let the room see it.

"I knew they were going to love that," Ramirez-Barrios said later. "I can understand that to the general public, comparing students with a parasite is not a nice thing. But I knew that students were going to understand why I did that." 

Their understanding was evident: the Class of 2026 had elected him as the commencement speaker, just as the Class of 2024 had two years earlier. 

At that earlier event, he told them: “I am class of 2024 too.” 

The bond in 2024 was the pandemic. He joined the college in 2020, when online classes were the norm. His evening virtual office hours became what the 2024 piece called "spaces of shared vulnerability." That was his first class in the United States. It was also his first time ever teaching remotely. He told them so. They never forgot it. He never forgot them.

Although the Class of 2026 wasn't present for those experiences, they still chose him. 

When asked what changed between his first and second opportunities as a speaker, he explained it wasn't a matter of the speech becoming easier.

"I think it's about chemistry," he said. "I love all my students, all of them. But when I enter a classroom, the energy in every group is different. I teach 19 classes. By the fourth class, the connection with 2026 was amazing." 

What the students see is that he asks how they are before every lecture.

"One thing a student wrote in a review said it well," he said. "Many professors just say good morning and start. I ask, 'Who has something to share? How is the semester going? When was your last exam? How did it go?' These are essential in human communication." 

"I show myself vulnerable, as vulnerable as they can be," he said. "I show them I am human, not a superhero. Students tend to think professors are perfect, or that the path to here has been perfect. I show them that it is not true. Making mistakes is normal. Looking for help is fine. Nothing is wrong with those things."

He said something similar in 2023, when he won Mentor of the Year. "It's not that we are educating veterinarians, we are educating human beings. What's the point of being a good veterinarian but a jerk?" 

A new administrative role as executive director of DVM enrollment and student services changes the math on how often students can drop in. 

"I have lost some availability and visibility with students," Ramirez-Barrios said. "I don't regret it because I can help them better from this position. But in my old office, I had the door open all the time. Here, students have to announce themselves. I have many more meetings. My priority is to find ways to be visible and available again." 

With these changes in mind, he now aims to build a network of recent alumni to support current students, providing the guidance he can't always give directly.

"For a Latino student, I am a good example," he said. "For a student who failed the NAVLE three times, I am not. I didn't take it. I need other people to help them. I can tell a single mom in vet school she is capable, but I have not been a single mom. A single-mom alumna saying, 'Yes, you can, because I did,' is completely different. Representation matters." 

He has been recruiting graduates from the classes of 2024, 2025, and 2026 for this. He has told them he will need them.

"I have a student who almost failed a course," he said. "If they failed, they would have been dismissed. They passed by one point. They graduated, marched, and now work at an excellent clinic. Another student failed the NAVLE three times. They thought their life was over. Today, they are married, have kids, own a house, and have an excellent job." 

The line from his 2024 speech was that life is beautiful but not fair or perfect. Despite the time that has passed, nothing is impossible — a view he confirms hasn't changed.

"It's the same," he said. "Nothing is impossible."

Still, it wasn't the poster that lingered in his mind after the ceremony—it was the book.

After the speech, class president Alison Lynch DVM ‘26 walked across the stage. She held a hardbound book that the class had put together. It contained notes from every student. Ramirez-Barrios had not known it existed. 

"When Alison said, 'Dr. Ramirez,’ and handed me the book, I was stunned. I have a close relationship with many of them, but not one hinted at the surprise."

He took it home that night and read every paragraph. 

"I was crying," he said. "I was just about breathing."