Graduating

I have sat through two commencement ceremonies a year for the past four years here at Purdue, because the Purduettes sing at the winter commencements. Here at Purdue, the ceremonies are split up because there are so many thousands of people graduating that it would be impossible to fit everyone and their parents in one ceremony at Elliott Hall, which, by the way, seats over 6,000 people. So in the winter they split it into two ceremonies, and in the spring they split it into four. Just to give you a picture. Each one is about two hours long, and there are so many people that only the graduate and doctorate degrees get their names read; everyone getting a bachelor’s or associate’s degree gets to see his name up on a screen with about ten other people as he walks across the stage. Which, don’t get me wrong, is pretty cool.

I just figured, knowing how boring and long and impersonal these things could be, it wouldn’t mean a whole lot to me.

I knew it meant a lot to my family, and hey, they knew what to expect. My mom and dad both graduated from Purdue. And if it was important to them, I’d try to make it a special day. Ryan even pointed out to me what a great accomplishment it was.

“You’re the only person I’m this close to who has ever graduated from college,” he said. “It’s a big deal.” And he was absolutely right.

It’s not like I didn’t want to go through graduation…I just wasn’t really excited about it.

Plus, it was weird; none of my Purduette classmates were graduating with me. Beth has another semester, and Laura still has more school. Meghan was going to go through graduation, but I didn’t know what section she was in, so as far as I knew, I would show up at the armory, get in line, and go through the ceremony with a bunch of strangers that I had apparently been going to school with over the last four years. It wasn’t like high school graduation, where you’re with all your friends, and all the teachers are there, and everyone knows you. I’d be lucky if the Glee Club guys, who were going to be singing onstage, would catch me as I walked by.

When my family arrived, it felt like something out of My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Marla popped her head in the door to give me about a ten-second warning that everyone was here. Then in came Mom, Dad, Mamaw, and Papaw, with hugs, questions, and comments. Mamaw immediately pounced on the graduation robe I had laid out on my bed and began wishing she’d brought her steamer.

“Well, I bet we could iron it right here on the bed,” she offered. I told her no, thanks, because no one else’s was going to look any better, and from where everyone was sitting they wouldn’t be able to tell if it had wrinkles anyway. I was almost ready when they all got there, but not quite, so then I had the fun of people watching me get ready. For some reason, this is a pet peeve of mine. I think it’s because I worry that the person watching me is thinking, “Is she really going to do her hair like that?”

Finally it was time to go to the ceremony. I had to be at the armory, next door to the Hall of Music, an hour before the ceremony, and everyone else was going to go find seats. At the armory, Dad helped me put my little white collar on my robe while Mom and Mamaw corrected my placement of my cap on my head. Marla, who was taking pictures of all of this, told me I looked pissed off, and I knew my lack of excitement and slight irritation at all the nitpicky attention was coming through loud and clear. I had to at least try to act as excited as they all were.

That’s when Katy showed up.

Katy was my roommate and instant best friend our freshman year at Purdue. She was getting ready to graduate with a degree in English Education, and soon after would find out she’d been offered a teaching job in a high school near Indianapolis. She was a member of the Delta Gamma sorority and about a year ago talked Marla into rushing. Marla joined DG, and Katy took her under her wing from the very beginning, doing everything from pairing Marla with the perfect match of a Big Sis in the house to teaching Marla how to tease back her hair.

I can’t tell you how glad I was to see Katy. Just like when she showed up in our dorm room during orientation week with all of her cute dorm accessories and reminded me how fun and adventurous college life was going to be, she showed up in front of the armory asking my dad for help with her collar, since he’d figured out mine, and wanting pictures of the two of us together, and she reminded me how special it was going to be to finish this fun and adventurous time and start off on a new one of even greater significance.

Katy and I went inside and parted ways to sign in. Get this—we had to get a sticker with our names and numbers next to them so we’d know who to stand behind in alphabetical order! I felt like one of the calves at my grandma’s farm when my parents and aunt and uncle are working cattle; I might as well have had a tag in my ear. Wouldn’t that be funny? All the tags in colors to match our tassels representing our schools and degrees!

I was trying to find which line to get into when I saw standing together Ashley from the Purdue Bells in PMO, Lindsey, who used to go to my high school, and Amanda, a former Purduette classmate. The three of them were standing together and talking, and as they greeted me enthusiastically, I got the feeling that this kind of was like high school graduation…all of your classmates waiting in the gym, checking to see if someone’s cap is straight or if someone’s hair doesn’t look too goofy under the cap. I finally found my check-in line, and when I got to the front, who was there to sign me in but Colleen Williams, the academic advisor who had helped me schedule my classes every semester and who never let me completely commit academic suicide by taking on too much.

“Oh, you got your hair cut!” she said as she found my sticker and patted it onto the shoulder of my black robe. I smiled. She was like the teacher who always helped you out during high school, even if you didn’t have a class with her.

I lined up, it turned out, behind a guy I had met my first semester at Purdue. He remembered me, so it was really fun to be within speaking distance of a previous acquaintance. A few more people ahead of him stood Amanda, which was also a comfort. And after some final instructions about when and where to stand, sit, or walk, we began the ceremony.

We all paraded out of the armory and past the Hall of Music and the bell tower. Then we took a lap around the Engineering Mall as people stood outside waving and taking pictures. There was something really cool about taking this walk down sidewalks you’d hurried across so many times as a student, only this time at a leisurely pace and in a cap and gown. It made me feel the finality of walking in these places as a student for the last time. And I realized that this was the part I had never seen before when I sat through those winter commencements.

This was the special part. This was the part of the ceremony that was for me.

The rest was for Mom and Dad, Mamaw and Papaw. The speeches were great, the music was beautiful, and the university president, who knew me through Purduettes and a scholarship group I had been in as a freshman, made a point to get up out of his chair and meet me onstage as I walked across. He gave me a hug and shook my hand and asked what I would be doing after graduation, and he wished me good luck. I think it was a special ceremony weekend for him as well; he was retiring from Purdue at the end of the school year.

The two hours of commencement were gorgeous, and they meant a lot more to me than I could of imagined. But whenever I think back to the day I graduated from Purdue, it won’t be the stage full of glee clubbers, band members, faculty, and trustees that I will remember. For me, it will be that stretch of pavement between Elliott Hall and the engineering buildings, where I last walked as a student at Purdue.