I graduated four times from University of Florida, but only went to one of my commencements: the one in which I was awarded my doctorate. For some reason, the fairly new provost, not the president, presided over that ceremony (it would prove to be one of her last acts, as she left before the summer’s end). The commencement speaker’s name is lost to my memory. His topic was the death of the honey bee—and not as a metaphor for anything; he really just spoke for an extended period about what was causing the escalating deaths of honey bees. Given that his audience was about 97% non-apiologists, the speech landed with a thud. My own boredom was punctuated only by frequent texts from my husband, refuting each aspect of the speech (he worked with scientists in the Florida Department of Agriculture, Division of Plant Industry, and knew a lot about insects and pests, including that those who study bees are called apiologists). I should say for the record that the 300 or so doctoral students commencing had been warned that using our cell phones during the ceremony was forbidden, but armed with the liberating freedom that comes from successfully defending our dissertations, we were on our phones from the minute we took our seats. We texted our friends, each other, and even called family sitting in the stands above us while waving frantically so they could find us. In short, we entered UF’s O’Connell Center proud of our accomplishments and full of joy and excitement, only to leave utterly uninspired by the perfunctory commencement that was supposed to be our celebratory final stop: our “Phinally Done” moment (in the parlance of the bumper sticker the graduate school office handed us).
Each year, as we approach MCC’s commencement, I reflect on how different our graduations are from the one I experienced. They are far from perfunctory. The energy and excitement of our students, their families, and friends fills the Blue Cross arena. The words offered by those addressing our graduates reflect their stories, their challenges and triumphs. The joy of our graduates crossing the stage often overwhelms them: as I reach out to shake their hands some are beaming, some are shaking, some are reaching out for a hug, some are crying, some are dancing. Their pride lights up the stage, and the extraordinariness of this day—for each graduate—plays tricks with time. Each graduate’s few minutes on stage seem to stretch infinitely in recognition of their significance, but the ceremony seems to last just moments: a flash of brilliance and achievement punctuated by bursting balloons and a light show of selfies.
And, then, for another year, it is over. The tassels turned; the confetti fallen; the robes shed. Done.
But, the memories remain. Even writing this today, I can see the stage and the smiles; hear the shouts of joy and (to be honest) the air horns; feel the warmth of the lights, the stickiness of nervous palms, and the honor it is to say, “Congratulations!”—and have it feel real and true each of the 1,000+ times I do.
Thank you for making MCC’s commencement a celebration of our students, for dedicating your talents to getting them to that moment … and for being there to share the day with them. Your presence at commencement matters to our students: it shows as they cross the stage. You have inspired this success and these memories.
See you May 30!
Feel free to share your inspiring graduation stories on the blog.
Anne M. Kress
President's Office
05/20/2015 |