Mood Swings:
Endless beginnings
By Amina Elbendary
It is the season, once more, for those amazing celebrations called "commencement". Having been through too many of those already, I feel that the sparkle is long gone. It's amazing how different the perspective is once you're sitting with the audience, how lacklustre it all really is. What are those people so excited about, I wondered recently, as I sat through another one of those endless ordeals. Don't they know what's in store for them?
I can't quite decide which is the worse part of commencements: the calling of names or the speeches. Probably the latter. I've developed a habit of editing in my mind as I listen to the endless patter; cut, cut, cut, I keep thinking -- banal, redundant, cheesy. There are always quotes, Shakespeare figures prominently; (often in reference to the world being a stage) runners up include Frost ("two roads diverged...") and Churchill. And they always involve sunny thoughts: the future, dreams, success, hard work, pride, diligence, success again, memories, dreams again, success, change, education. They are, always, ridiculously naïve and earnest.
Prepared for the worst, I was struck both by the cockiness of the speech of the graduating senior and the futile attempt by the British headmaster to preach some old fashioned wisdom one last time before he lost this particular audience forever. The senior was talking about graduation being the end of childhood (huh) and how they were all going to go and do wonderful things in life; surmount every obstacle, and climb every mountain. And what's more: they would win. Success is often the byword of such speeches.
I slowly sank in my chair as I listened. My first impulse was to dig out the yearbook and phone all the girls up to apologise, having been one such culprit not too long ago. My speech had all the horrible features: quotes, cheesiness and endless talk of change. That is, not only were we going to succeed in making our dreams come true, but we were also going to help others achieve their goals and dreams thereby causing change in the whole country. Admirable sentiments, no doubt.
The trouble is: we made it sound so easy.
The headmaster in question seemed to realise that, to see the troubles lying ahead, yet he assured -- even threatened -- his graduates that they had no option but to grow: you can't ungrow, he insisted and even presented a living example (a plant) to prove it.
But, sir, I wanted to point out the obvious: we can surely stagnate until we die. When we don't use the air around us, we wither and die. What about the tragedies we encounter at every yearly reunion? What about the class stars who fall miserably behind?
And yet this wise man and all those cheery adults were extremely excited as they watched another generation walk off the stage with diplomas. Why?
Part of the excitement, it seems, is that parents and students tend to see graduations as turning points of some sort and as endings of stages in one's life. That somehow, a high school diploma means the end of childhood, while a baccalaureate means... well, what exactly it means is not clear. They seem to think it means you're on your own, you're educated, with a degree, off to conquer the world. Or, at least, to get a job.
Obviously parents feel proud. They appropriate whatever success is associated with graduation to themselves. They see graduations as an affirmation that they did it right, that the burden of bringing up human beings in this world has been achieved, with flying colours. The poor souls who think graduation is the end of their childhood are in for a big surprise, though. Unfortunately, diplomas don't come with certificates of emancipation tucked inside the fancy folder. That, one cannot study for; one, simply, has to fight for freedom relentlessly.
But what about the rest? What about the graduates? And the others who come even though they are neither graduates or parents of one? Why do they find graduation exciting?
Probably the most exciting thing about graduation, and what keeps us going year after year, is not that it is the end of anything: certainly not childhood or education or learning or growing up. But, rather, that it is the beginning of all of those things -- again. "Commencements" are all about beginnings then, and about the confidence that one still has choices to make, that there are numerous possibilities out there to choose from, that one is not destined to walk one particular road but that one is at a crossroads, and can choose to do things differently -- one more time. It is, therefore, a very exciting if frustrating place to be. No wonder commencements, like weddings, are among the celebrations that one remembers with excitement and awe throughout one's life. There's a certain thrill, an adrenaline rush, to be felt standing at that threshold and looking possible futures in the eye.
I wonder if it's time to seek another commencement after all.
