 This blog is an endurance test for readers.
A month ago, I participated as a speaker in my last graduation ceremony as a full-time faculty member. I've been on the platform in over fifty ceremonies. I also walked as a graduate in two, was in the audience for my brother's two ceremonies, my stepson's two ceremonies and ceremonies for my niece. I loved every one of them. And I hated every one of them, too. I'm fickle. I have to admit, though, that the act of graduating is one of the major milestones in a person's life. It is easy for me to love that part. Especially, teaching in a university with so many first-generation college grads. The ceremony was also the last time I will probably be sitting on the platform and saying (or singing) something into the microphone. The universe decided it needed to emphasize this point to me. When I tried to put on my robe for the ceremony, I learned that the slider and the teeth of the zipper of my robe had divorced after 35 years of successfully conjoining every May. They had apparently agreed, without telling me, that 2024 was their last ceremony. I can understand why my robe was a no show. Large university ceremonies have evolved into one last test of the endurance for students and families (and robe zippers). With an aging back and worried mind, endurance tests aren't my thing anymore. And, as I have grown older and cynical, this particular test seems to be more and more about people on the platform party and less and less about the students, families and friends in the audience. So, for the sake of posterity, let me impart my wisdom on the graduation endurance test from the perspective of an irreverent, cynical, but optimistic person. The first part of the test generally takes an hour or more. This initial test of endurance and the skills learned in one's curriculum include: 1) finding a parking space; 2) overcoming confusion and entering the venue through the correct door; 3) overcoming confusion again to get where one needs to go - one might need to line up for the procession or figure out where to sit ; and 4) waiting for what feels like several days for the ceremony to begin. The best part is the pomp and circumstance of the procession and its annual migration of the platform party and the graduates through the crowd filling the room with positive energy and/or sighs of relief that the ceremony started. There are lots of pictures taken (many on iPhones) during the procession. My image was probably in a few thousand of them. But it goes unrecognized with no royalty payments. In the next part of the ceremony, resilience of both mind and body is tested. For an hour or so, the audience will listen to several people talk. First, the chancellor/president will welcome everybody with some vacuous remarks of how great the institution is; how special, talented and resilient the graduates are; and the importance of the graduation milestone. If the university has a great music school, there will probably be a performance or two (which are always great). The chancellor/president might also call out 3-6 superhuman graduates to highlight in their remarks (sometimes the student stands among a sea of a few thousand) This makes the family and friends of those students very, very proud. Everyone else in the audience is in awe of the students. They are also left wondering why their graduate wasn't recognized and/or what those highlights have to do with them. If there are board members, legislators or news media in the audience, then the chancellor/president may have remarks aimed at them that have nothing to do with the graduating students or their families. At one of my stepson's graduations, for example, the President went on and on about the number of National Merit Scholars that would enroll in the next Freshman Class. The last thing that any students, families or friends in the audience were thinking about during graduation was the new freshman class, Geez. Methinks it can be challenging for chancellors/presidents to realize the graduation event is not about them. I mean it is one of the few chances they have to speak to thousands of people at one time and get rousing applause from most of, if not all. And, for some, it is the only time after the initial honeymoon that the local newspaper writes a positive story about them. There often are a few more speakers who will welcome everyone followed by the graduation speaker. Sometimes the graduation speakers are famous people or distinguished alumni who will weave their personal story into a bulleted list of advice for graduates. Some have well-articulated calls for action. Some probably deserve to be held for posterity in the Library of Congress. Many have brilliant quotes that find their way onto social media- for at least a couple of days. Then there might be some honorary degrees awarded that celebrate extraordinarily people who may have little to do with the university or the milestone being celebrated. Yet honorary degrees can make administrators, and some in the audience, proud that they can be associated with these accomplished individuals Those being honored have something to put on their CV and are transformed in that moment into a target for the university's development office (unless the honorary degree was already connected to their generosity). At some point (I have seen it in the beginning or end), somebody will also remind graduates that they are now alumni of the institution and that their donations will be happily accepted. Finally, the platform party gets to the business of conferring degrees with each dean presenting their graduates to the provost, who in turn presents all of the graduates to the president/chancellor. This was the favorite part of my job as provost. At Northern Arizona, I went off script during this part of the ceremony to say something like "this is the favorite part of my job" before presenting the graduates to the president. Every action has a reaction. The President's reaction was to tell several of my colleagues to warn me that I would be beheaded if I said that again in the next ceremony (NAU had four university ceremonies due to the size of the venue). This is true. Anyway, once the president/chancellor confers the degrees, the students and guests finally realize that the ceremony is actually about them. By this time, agony for students and their families shows on their faces. The room temperature has risen. Back pain has become a pandemic in the audience. And young children start announcing their displeasure by wailing. The next part of the ceremony can take two or more hours. Graduates get about ten seconds of fame when their name is called and they walk, prance, dance across stage, and their family friends delight with joy and pride. At my institution they move as quickly as possible with no hand shaking, hugs or fist bumping, Graduates aren't even handed a diploma cover. Nonetheless, graduates moving across the stage is great for everyone, at least for a few minutes. The only problem is that those ten seconds for an individual disappear in a heartbeat. The rest of the time is watching thousands of other students get their 10 seconds of fame without a diploma cover. It is a little-known secret, that iPhones and solitaire apps were actually invented as a tool for enduring a graduation ceremony. Nonetheless, everyone is happy at the end of the ceremony. They celebrated passing a milestone. They passed the hardest part of the endurance test and barely remember their aching back. They may have already forgotten everything that was said from the platform. The final act of the endurance test is finding one's way through a corn maze of people to meet one's family and friends. It is like finding a needle in a haystack. This challenge was another reason for the invention of the iPhones, text messages. Once everyone finds each other, there are several minutes of smiles, hugs and pictures taken on iPhones. This is followed by a difficult cognitive test: remembering where the car is parked, which has been made easier by apps on iPhones that find your car for you. Upon identifying, loading and starting the car, the encore of the final endurance exam begins- getting stuck in traffic with your relatives packed in one car worrying if your reservations for lunch and/or dinner will be held if you are late. People seem to think this a great tradition. As an autistic person, I have little reverence for traditions. But I still enjoy graduations despite my cynicism. However, I don't have the physical or mental endurance to sit through the large university ceremony as a faculty member. Faculty generally sit off to the side, in the front of the room, in uncomfortable folding chairs, where we can't hide our iPhones, And, we have to applaud senior administrators. PART 2 I am moving into phased retirement this Fall (August 2025). So, I was asked to be the speaker in our department's smaller ceremony. Our ceremony is short, but it occurs several hours after the more than three-hour university ceremony. So, those that come have Olympian endurance, or they just want a free diploma cover since they couldn't get one at the main ceremony, even though they had to pay a $65 fee to graduate. I was excited to do this. This might be surprising to you given what I wrote above. My cynicism is a bit hypocritical. During all that time I was on graduation platforms, I heard a lot of graduation speeches. Some were given by famous people who charged a lot of money to make a profound or funny speech. I thought most of the speeches were excellent in the moment. But I couldn't remember anything that any of them said within 24 hours of them saying it, and I only remember one of the speakers. I also don't remember the welcome remarks made by the chancellor/president or even ones I gave as a dean. I don't remember a single provost or president of the schools where I was a student. I do remember, though, most all of the faculty members I had as teachers, at least when I see or hear their name. In any case, I had two goals: short and memorable. I write songs for classes I teach and also tell stories or sing a song at the beginning of class so that students can get comfortable. Students seem to like that. So, that is what I did. Well, the first thing I did was to disrobe at the podium. I mean I took off my robe so I could play my guitar. I said about two hundred words and sang two songs. My advice to students was to be a tree. As a forestry major, I have an unusual fondness for trees. Why be a metaphorical tree?
The I sang John Gorka's song, "Branching Out." The first line is "when I grow up I'm gonna be a tree" and the last lines are "I'm going to reach for the sky. I am going to reach until I know why." Then I wished the students well. I grow very close to students in our program. I feel like those in my classes are part of my extended family (which grown by over 1,000 since Fall 2021). So, this is emotionally meaningful for me. I chose to play Bob Dylan's song "Forever Young", to express those wishes. I didn't tear up but thought I would. The captive audience of a few hundred people gave me roaring applause without any prompts. That will probably be the last time that happens. There were lots of fist bumps and hugs. Parents heard from me how wonderful their child was as a student. S It was great! The songs and words took only 11 minutes (You can view the whole thing here). But some might say that was 11 minutes too long. As I said above, though, everyone is happy after a graduation ceremony is over, even though that happiness has almost nothing anything to do with what the speaker did or said. Moving to phased retirement is one of the last milestones on the winding trail of life. Making it this far was its own endurance test for me. So, this was also a graduation ceremony of sorts for me. Just as with other graduation ceremonies, I loved it and hated it at the same time,
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