Friday, May 16, 2003
Going to College Graduation
I’m just old enough to have inhaled a bit of that 1960’s blanket irreverence about tradition and ceremony, but it’s all out of my bloodstream now, and I’ve relearned the value of certain customs. One of those is graduation. I didn’t go to my own college graduation, and even though I was headed toward a life in academia I didn’t even go to my graduation from graduate school. But as a faculty member, having attended eight of the last nine May ceremonies at Indiana University South Bend, I’m catching up on some of the lovely things I’ve missed, and now I always tell students they’ve got to go to graduation.
Like any good ceremony, a well-designed graduation builds and builds. It starts with the formalities—the friends and family members all dressed up in the stands, the bright banners hanging from the rafters, the flowers that line the stage, the university emblem on the podium, the stately marching music, the academic robes and mortarboards of the students, the ornate hoods and robes and tassels of the faculty, the velvet curtain behind the stage, the brilliant gold medallion worn by the university president.
The ceremony itself has magical moments. At one point our chancellor asks the graduates to rise and turn toward the stands and thank their friends and family members for all they’ve done to help them succeed in college. Hundreds of the students get the point, and their spirited applause is always one of the ceremony’s sweetest moments. This year a theater professor read the names of every single graduate as each one crossed the stage to shake hands with the dignitaries. He spoke hundreds of full, formal names, first names and middle and last, with gusto, booming each one across the auditorium as you would introduce a prime minister. His energy infected the audience, which grew more generous with its applause and more boisterous with its comments as the evening continued.
Some of the best moments, though, are not written into the ceremony script. Of course I expected the chancellor to speak proudly and respectfully of the fine things students have accomplished, many of them working jobs and raising families and still keeping at their studies for the extra years it takes part-time students to graduate. But I was moved to see the sign language interpreter, standing on the side of the stage. He swept his left arm gracefully across the many rows of students seated before him each time the chancellor mentioned them and their hard-won accomplishments. His body language was as buoyant and proud as the words of the speaker, and perfect for our occasion.
It may have been my imagination, but I believe that Indiana University’s Interim President Gerald Bepko hinted at a new tradition Tuesday when, unlike his respected predecessor, he delivered a graduation talk written for the assembled IUSB students, families, and faculty, rather than a generic talk one could deliver at any of the state’s eight campuses. Like many good graduation speakers, he spoke of abiding values and ideals of public service, but President Bepko drew his particulars, his examples, from our regional context. Taking his thoughtful lead, maybe this university, like other colleges and universities, should invite a distinguished guest speaker each year to prepare something that speaks to the lives we lead here in Michiana. For after all, a public university serves the people who live around it.
Building on the insights of university leaders who came before him, President Bepko talked about a public university’s democratic mission, its obligation to help open paths for its citizens, so all of us in Michiana know our children have a chance to make the most of themselves. That tradition, linked profoundly with the hard work and commitment of students, the support of their friends and family members, and the guidance of faculty, make graduation a symbol of striving and accomplishment and possibility. No wonder so many emotions overflow all through the evening.
A random selection from more than 300 Michiana Chronicles -- refresh the browser to see another set:
Joe Chaney -- More essays by Joe
Louise Collins -- More essays by Louise
April Lidinsky -- More essays by April
Jonathan Nashel -- More essays by Jonathan
Jeff Nixa -- More essays by Jeff
Ken Smith -- Going to College Graduation / More essays by Ken
Jeanette Saddler Taylor -- More essays by Jeanette
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About the series
Michiana Chronicles is a series of radio essays by Jonathan Nashel, Louise Collins, Joe Chaney, Jeanette Saddler Taylor, Jeff Nixa, April Lidinsky, and Ken Smith.
Michiana is the region of north-central Indiana and southern Michigan roughly centered on South Bend, Indiana.
Michiana Chronicles airs on Fridays at 7:35 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. on WVPE (88.1 FM), the home of public radio in Elkhart / South Bend, Indiana.
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Recent pieces
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Baby, It’s Cold Inside -- After you see these photos you will probably wonder what we can do to prevent every single last iceberg from melting away and becoming history. Here, I confess, I have no idea. I’ve heard it all before: lower carbon footprints, drive hybrids, recycle with abandon, hate the oil companies, love to read in the dark, you name it. And you know what: none of this is going to bring back these icebergs or grow new ones or do anything to stop our relentless destruction of the earth, let alone quell the naysayers on global warming. I recently heard on NPR that an iceberg the size of Connecticut just broke apart and is melting away. Now, I’ve been in Connecticut many times and I still can’t wrap my head around this little fun fact. What can possibly be the size of a state? By Jonathan Nashel.
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