Graduation

I've long realized that I don't have the proper attitude toward graduation ceremonies. I just always thought that I would eventually be converted to the correct perspective. And yet it still hasn't happened.

When I graduated with my Ph.D. from San Diego State University, there were at least ten beach balls bouncing throughout the auditorium at any one particular moment. No one paid attention to the speakers, and often there was so much cheering that you couldn't understand what was being said. Clearly everyone was excited about being there, but there also seemed to be some concern by the administration that the excitement not be allowed to grow too long before letting everyone out. Consequently, every part of the ceremony was kept short and simple. After it was all over, friends and relatives commented that it was the shortest, most unruly graduation they had ever attended. There was nothing reverent or dignified about it. And that's why I absolutely loved it.

Since then I've attended several graduation ceremonies at my school. Every time we enter the giant auditorium, we walk under a big sign that says, "Maintain the dignity of the ceremony." And then we quietly file in, cram ourselves into chairs spaced for 10 year olds, and try to stay awake for the 1 1/2 to 2 1/2 hour ceremony. We listen to grand talks about proud morals and high ideals. We clap politely after stuffy musical numbers. We are reminded that we should give back to the university, and are assured that both large and small checks are welcome. Finally, after the row of speakers has been exhausted and our perspiration has soaked through our clothes and caused our robes to cling wetly to our bodies, we stumble out. I swear these ceremonies are more like a funeral than a graduation.

I'm not sure how much longer I can "maintain the dignity of the ceremony" without going insane. Every time I walk under the sign, I have a new idea for what would really spice up the ceremony. One year it was to attach pipe cleaner antennas to my graduation cap. Last year it was to hide a squirt gun in my sleeves and squirt graduates as they marched in. This year I was wishing that I had a package of balloons that I could blow up and then let go of in the middle of a particularly boring talk. The thought of a deflating balloon spinning spasmodically through the air and letting out a loud raspberry as it deflated was so delicious that I actually snorted during the President's address. I covered it up by pretending I had a cold and regularly sniffing for the next five minutes. I think it worked, because the people sitting on either side of me starting leaning away from me.

For all of you out there who have a difficult time controlling your exuberance at graduation ceremonies, I salute you. Thank you for your cat calls, air horns, inflated surgical gloves, and irreverent signs. You inspire me.