I have been a proud community college professional for 20 years now, and like many of my colleagues, among the top 3 days of the entire year is graduation day. I will always love the first day of school (side note: I have ALWAYS loved the first day of school since I was a kid. Consider this a preview for an upcoming post about how much I love the smell of a crisp clean notebook and sharp pencils. Another day...). And I will always love the mid-year and mid-term breaks, as they often come at just the right time to manage sanity. But the magic and wonder of graduation day is an unmatched holiday for those of us who work in education. It is a landmark day.
I have always loved ceremony and ritual. Both ceremony and ritual are important to me in my faith experience, and there is no better faith experience than working in public education, so it seems fitting that ceremony and ritual be an important part in a proper graduation. We dress in robes and tasseled hats. We process in, in orderly lines and to the perfect recipe of sound as "Pomp and Circumstance" mixes with the cheers of a very proud crowd. At Central Piedmont, we have always taken time to honor both personal experience and academic achievement, letting our students be recognized by raising their hands... whether they served in the military, volunteered in our community, raised children, worked multiple jobs, made the President's list, or are graduating with a perfect 4.0 GPA. All those achievements are important markers of success and should be formally recognized.
Like many colleges and universities, we were scheduled to hold graduation this week. Today, in fact. Typically, I'm spending this week with colleagues, preparing and practicing and planning. We mark off miles of taped lines on floors and pocket handfuls of bobby pins and safety pins to make sure we're prepared to help our graduates look picture perfect. We wrangle hundreds of excited graduates in small spaces, managing their anxiety, tired feet, and desire to just get on with what we know will be a long-ish ceremony of 900 names read and 900 walks across a stage. It's equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. But this week, I'm spending way more time sitting than standing, my bloodshot eyes focused on a screen rather than a face.
This week our college shared a lovely video, compiling pictures and videos from our faculty and staff congratulating our graduates. And, my staff created a heartfelt year in review, a showcase of memories set to music, of the good work my team did with our students. Both are full of people and places that I just love and admire, but they are clearly different in one major way. One showcases life before Coronavirus, and the other after it.
As I watched our year in review, I couldn't help but notice our close proximity. Our sharing meals together. Our hugs and high fives. Our trips. Our longing to be huddled together, because that's what friends do and that's how you know who's on your team. All these things were so important to us, once upon a time, in this life I sort of remember. I'd be lying if I told you I made it through the video without tears.
What I think hurts the hardest about missing graduation isn't the ritual and ceremony of this special occasion. It's not the robes and the tassels and the handshakes or the official declaration or the lovely benediction. It's the all important huddled hug. It's the moment when you look out over a sea of black gowns and silver and gold tassels, and you can feel the rippling pride that extends beyond that ocean of graduates. That ripple extends beyond those receiving their diplomas to their proud families and friends, their teachers, their advisors, their children, and their community. It's the recognition of each graduate's unique story, and their unique obstacles and journeys that got them this far. It's the knowing that this crowd of newly credentialed individuals will go to work in our communities (many of them on the front lines of this virus). It's knowing that many of them will now transfer to new institutions as they continue what they started with us. It's knowing with some degree of certainty that they will take all the goodness we offered them and share it with others. I see it every year, again and again. You can't help but to want open your arms and welcome someone to their bright new future with a close, tight embrace.
So while that tight embrace is currently a memory, here's a simple hug in words for all the graduates reading this, wherever you are. Know that we are proud of you. Your future is bright, and you are capable of way more than you think. Know that others are watching you and dreaming that one day they might be like you. Know that there is much more to learn and do. Know that your family, and friends, and community all need you. Know that you are valued. And know that we are fortunate to have had one small segment of our journey together.
And, the next time you see us, we'll be waiting with our arms wide open.
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