"There is a good reason they call these ceremonies 'commencement exercises'.Graduation is not the end; it's the beginning."
-Orrin Hatch
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Though I was pleased to receive my final transcript in the mail recently, I remain deeply convinced that my decorated parchment cannot account for long nights of study, meals with respected professors, or residence life shennanigans of the past four years.
Perhaps I should have negotiated a better deal?
Having reflected on graduation for some time now, I have come to realize that, in one sense, commencement signifies far more than the receipt of a diploma. Indeed, tossing one's tassel signals not the conferring of academic credentials: it's an abrupt ending to an all-encompassing, exasperatingly brief existence, where new alumni relinquish their once-daily connections to collegiate neighbors, employers, church community, and full-time vocation. After four years of developing my niche in the Cedarville University community, I feel as if I have managed to leave just in time.
And I have a diploma, an absurd hat, and a few tassels to show for it.
Though my graduation experience felt distant and platonic, for many the event of commencement is deeply exhilarating. But make no mistake: graduation imparts about as much personal development and maturation as a child's birthday party.
My youngest brother's birthday was a few weeks back. He is a fairly simple homo-sapien, with a few distinct interests and likes. His birthday highlights amounted to putt-putt Goofy Golf, Sonic drive thru (for the roller-skating servers, of course) and a few Dairy Queen deserts courtesy of a calendar-savvy Sunday School teacher's timely gift card. The word "rut" means nothing to him; we've shared the same peanut butter-covered Eggos the last five mornings, and his birthday breakfast was no different.
Unique qualities aside, my brother's birthday had next to no tangible effect on my brother's development. No doubt, my brother has developed progressively since his last birthday. He's since learned to wash the dishes, earn a GameCube high score, swim enthusiastically, sing a bit, and even do his chores from time to time.
But none of those benchmarks, frivolous or otherwise, came about as a direct result from a birthday event. The blowing of candles, height measuring, gift unwrapping -- these added an enjoyable chapter to his narrative; they did not rush in a complex character change.
No, my brothers personal accomplishments arose not from birthday events, but from the practice of his daily activities, the sorts of things that make him into who he is today.
I suppose the same can be said for graduation.
The diploma which students are conferred does not likewise confer a developmental growth spurt equivalent to the ceremonial hype. There's really no impartation of growth at the moment of diploma conferral; the college life's greatest rewards come in the form of caring professors, rigorous classwork, challenging church communities, and patient friends.
There is no doubt that commencement signified a tremendous achievement for each student that navigated his or her way across the stage. It's function, however, is a call to both reflect on and appreciate the past in pursuit of the future.
Kind of like a birthday.
[JSD]
