Ceremony

Last night I attended my former employer's annual graduation ceremony. It is not long-winded, and the graduating class wasn't huge. Nobody went on forever about the opportunities awaiting everyone. We were not in a gigantic formal hall. Nobody famous received an honorary doctorate. It was still a spectacular success, reflecting the hard work and dedication of a group of incredible human beings, who overcame, in many cases, life circumstances that might have stopped stronger folks.

We met in an old, stone Lutheran church in the middle of a small, suburban town. Faculty and students gathered in the basement and created some chaos climbing into caps and gowns, getting group and individual photos taken care of, and having their flowers (in school colors, of course) pinned on each left lapel. As always, there are only one or two people capable of pinning the flowers correctly, so they will neither fall on the floor nor stab the wearer.

There is something inherently awkward in the design of academic "caps," which end up at a rakish angle, or creating an iconic halo, or dangling its tassel in one's eyes. There will never, I am sure, be a year where everyone's cap is just right, no one's flowers have fallen off, and no one is wearing flip-flops in the front row of the annual photograph.

This year was only the second in the history of the school where we were not at the ready to march at the allotted time. We were almost five minutes late. Our President is a stickler for time management, at least as it pertains to graduation. In other areas, not so much, but that can be discussed later.

We were actually ready to go at 7:04 and 30 seconds, heading upstairs in two lines, on two separate staircases, meeting at the top and heading down the aisle. I was given the honor of leading the faculty, and carrying the school's mace, being master of teachers. As the most recent retiree, I felt pretty special.

Ah, but then came the graduates, 103 of them, to be exact. There were more than that who had finished their programs, but some chose not to participate in the ceremony. I don't understand why.

It was a diverse group, from places like Ecuador, Sri Lanka, Sudan, the Dominican Republic, Peru, Cambodia and other parts of the world, as well as many towns local to the school. As a faculty member, I got to sit in the choir loft of the church, looking forward at the sea of bright blue caps and gowns in the front pews. Every year of the fifteen years I have taught at this school, I am awe-struck by the stories behind those graduates.

There is one this year who is fighting the AIDS virus, another in the throes of MS. One is a refugee from a terrible civil war in his home country, another haunted by the sight of soldiers tearing her grandmother from her family home and beating her in the back yard. One has an ex-husband so dangerous that the school has a standing order to call 911 if he is seen anywhere near the campus. Many are young, single mothers fighting for a better chance to care for their families.

All of these students have taken the plunge into higher education, not sure of themselves at first, but gaining in confidence as their knowledge grows. Last night we graduated paralegals, accountants, medical assistants, web and graphics designers, office managers, and specialists in criminal justice. We graduated young and not-so-young, all ready to dive in to new or expanding careers.

Sure, the ceremony is simple. The whole thing never takes more than an hour. Our guest speakers are warned to take no more than ten minutes. Once it's over, there is a mob scene headed back to the basement, this time including families. Joy is everywhere. I get to meet husbands and wives and children and moms and dads, and even a great aunt or two. All are bursting with pride at the new graduate in the family.

Yes, the ceremony is short, and the evening punctuated with an amazing and enjoyable amount of hugging and photos-with-my-favorite-teacher moments. There is not a lot of pomp and circumstance here, but the message is powerful. These grads may not remember much of what was said at the ceremony, but they are permanently reminded of what they have accomplished. To go from a faltering, nervous new student to a gleefully confident new grad in a few short years: that's worth celebrating!

By the way, I will probably go back in the fall to teach one course. I love being a part of this ceremony.