Leftover Ink: Graduation Day

Like many of you, I attended graduation ceremonies in June. For me, it was a college graduation for one of my close friends who had gone back to receive her college degree part-time.

As much of a milestone as any college graduation is, I was especially proud of Leslie. I think of my own college days and then try to imagine how much more difficult it would have been also holding down a full-time job and raising two children. I think I’m justifiably proud of her for pulling it off. Just in general, I wonder where the parents of 4-year-olds get their energy.

That being said, graduation ceremonies are a little on the boring side for everyone except the one who’s graduating—and sometimes for them too. This was especially true here.

Loyal friend that I am, I did promise to attend her graduation on a bright Saturday morning at George Mason despite my general inclination to avoid anything but catching up on sleep during the weekends. I mentioned to her later that it was a sign of my devotion that I rushed and scrambled to get to the Patriot Center in time.

I was running far enough behind schedule that I hadn’t even had my coffee by the time I arrived. An early Saturday morning without caffeine is never a good way to start, but luckily enough the Patriot Center will sell you thimble-sized cups of coffee for $2 a pop so I was able to remain consciousness through the ceremony.

As most people who know me are aware, I’m caffeinated throughout the day with coffee as drug of choice. I’ve always loved coffee and one of the highlights of the last ten years is that more of the country has now joined me in my obsession with the java. The downside of this phenomena is that is now seems acceptable for anyone to charge $2 for mixing water (which is free) and ground coffee beans (which aren’t free, but certainly don’t cost $2 per cup.) I begin considering the profit margin per cup and then weep for my choice of profession.

Eventually seating myself in the hard little plastic chairs near very top of the stadium’s seating—$2 coffee in hand. I managed to find a seat just as the graduation ceremony began. The college president spoke. The chair of the board of directors spoke. The valedictorian spoke. One of the graduates sang the National Anthem. I have very little recollection as to what they said. It isn’t that they weren’t interesting, but I was more concerned with standing and shifting over for the 20 people who sat down in my row once the program had already started.

After the various speakers, I settled in with anticipation as they began to call the students’ names and hand them rolled sheets of Xerox paper masquerading as their actual diplomas. This is an old trick. It allows the presenters to ignore what diploma belongs to who and more importantly ensures that no one gets a diploma until all of their outstanding student fees have been taken care of.

I had an acquaintance back in undergrad whose diploma was held hostage until he settled up a $68 fee with the campus library. Having just finished paying 4 years of tuition, his parents had no interest in paying the missing book and he was forced to start a frantic search. Less effort has been spent searching for lost books from the bible.

As the presenters arranged themselves to begin handing out faux-diplomas, I started doing calculations in my head to determine how long it would take for them to read Leslie’s name. Separated by college, it’s not quite as simple as it should be.

I was coming to a conclusion when the first row walked up and Leslie was the absolute first person to receive her diploma. I was taken by surprise and clapped excitedly for the next person in line. She dutifully walked across the stage, had her photo taken and then sat back down.

While thankful that I’d been able to find a good parking space and that I hadn’t been late, I was then seized by the thought that we had made plans for lunch…meaning that I was now stuck in the mean chairs at the Patriot Center as the college president handed out diplomas to the other 1,200 graduates.

A sense of dread overtook me. While you certainly want to be respectful of the other graduates, no one really signed up to sit for 2 hours after their particular graduate had already been called. I did my level best and sat attentively for another half-hour before sneaking away for another $2 cup of coffee.

Wasting time and wandering around the Patriot Center (which did become more crowded as more families joined me in waiting outside), I thought back to my own college graduation. I remember being very happy at the occasion and I remember my parents being very happy that they would no longer be receiving little bills from the registrar’s office, but I can remember precious little from the ceremony itself—who the speaker was or what words of wisdom that they had for us.

That’s just the way I things I suppose. Graduations are book ends and the quality of a book isn’t determined solely by the conclusion. The most important part is what you learned from it and how it impacts you afterwards.

After several cups of coffee and a bit of reminiscing, I did locate Leslie after the ceremony and let her know how proud I was of her for making it through. After several years of Internet classes and doing coursework after the kids had gone to sleep, she had quite a smile on her face. Going back to school as an adult isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but that’s part of the reason we should celebrate those who do. She’s already talking about going back to get a Masters Degree.