Graduation - Part 2

Here's a cool part of graduation. Every school carries a different representative object to wave. The law school had gavels, the divinity school had a halos over their heads, public policy had inflatable globes, the ed school had books, and the design school built structures out of legos and taped it to their hats. I saw one person with a gavel AND a halo . . . must've been a double major. Or maybe he was representing the justice meted out by angels. The business school waved American flags, though I think dollar bills would have been better. (Or can you somehow wave the oppression of 3rd world peoples? Isn't that what they've been learning?)

Then came the honorary degrees. A was a pretty impressive bunch: a philosopher of justice, an experimental sculptor, a bioethicist, a researcher in blood-based disorders, a molecular biologist, etc. People who probably never get stoned. Or couldn't name a single NFL player. And yes, Meryl Streep also got one. It's a little disheartening to see how everyone craned their neck when her turn was up, after dozing through everyone else. Sure breaking the boundaries of science or revolutionizing philosophy are both impressive, but if you give us a movie actress, we are INTERESTED. Sure your research may solve a fatal illness, but did you star in "Mama Mia"? Because Meryl did.

My favorite recipient of an honorary degree was Freeman A. Hrabowski III, president of a U of Maryland university and a founder of multiple programs that serve underprivileged african-american youth. Why did I like him so much? Because he has two degrees from the University of Illinois. My school.

So I have three schools under my belt now: U of I, Northwestern, and Harvard. If you've gone to multiple colleges, sometimes you wonder where your loyalties lie. If the schools played each other in football, who would you root for? For me it's easy: University of Illinois first and foremost, and always. No contest. Your undergraduate years are somehow housed in your DNA--that formative time is inextricable from who you are. For me, the other schools are nice add-ons, but they'll never touch U of I in loyalty.

So there I was sitting in the hot sun in Harvard yard, half paying attention, when I hear "Mr. Hrabowski completed is graduate degrees in mathematics and education at the University of Illinois." And do you know what I did? I whooped. Loudly. Really loudly. I didn't plan it--it wasn't one of those times when you think "well, I know what I could yell . . . should I do it?" It was an involuntary whoop that I couldn't have retained if I wanted to. But people had to know I was there to REPRESENT.

Of course graduation is a big day for the Harvard University president. Right now that's Drew Faust, and she made her presence known in a strange way. Before one of the honorary degrees was given out to a person, someone would stand up and read their straightforward bio. And then Drew Faust would stand up and add HER two sentences. And what a two sentences they always were. You could tell she had working for the past 6 months on making her lines JUST SO. Once she spoke you could hear the (deliberate) elevation in eloquence and vocabulary. She'd say things like "his perspicacious insight has us soaring to new scientific heights" or "his vertiginous climb to the top of his field is only matched by his galvanisation of the movement." At one point my friend April took out her iPhone, got online, brought up dictionary.com, and started to type in every unknown word that would come out of Drew's mouth.

In the afternoon, things got down to business. All the schools broke into their own ceremonies, and soon enough I was walking across the stage and shaking hands, and I was graduated.

Well, almost.

It's entirely likely that a Harvard graduate is an insufferable person. They think they went to the best school, so they likewise think they're amongst the best people in the world, and what they say is some of the best things humans have ever said. As my brother told me a few months ago, "you're now going to be really insufferable, aren't you?"

I don't think so. As I sat back in my chair with all of the other graduates, I looked down the aisle and saw everyone opening up their large, sealed envelopes to pull out their diplomas and have a look. To sit back and admire it. I started to do the same: pop the golden seal, lift up the red flap, and look inside for that piece of parchment paper with the calligraphic script you've been working so hard for.

But mine didn't have a diploma. It only had a single sheet of paper.

Apparently you have to complete some financial aid payback forms before you can graduate. Supposedly everyone knew this. Supposedly there was email after email, and reminder after reminder. And I missed it all. Maybe it was my laziness, maybe it was my flakiness, maybe it was my disorganization. All I knew was I didn't have a diploma--instead I had a little piece of paper that was gently scolding my neglect.

I looked down the rows and saw all the diplomas in the proud hands of the graduates. And then I looked down at my sheet, which might as well have been a note to the principal's office.

If I ever seem to have a bit of that Harvard arrogance, I assure you, it's only an act.