This Saturday, June 21, was Convocation Day at Glendon. I know a lot of professors that don’t like attending the event. There’s a lot of fancy pageantry, funny robes and hats to wear, and the ceremony itself can seem positively medieval. For some, it can seem like an embellishment that draws attention away from more pressing concerns.
But not to me.
To begin with, I think that ceremonies are important. Most times in life, we have to rush from one thing to the next, and we don’t have time to remember and to reflect. But ceremony allows us to step out of our usual headspace and to look at things from another perspective. As a university professor, I’m responsible for one little corner of the institution. I see a set group of students, and I worry about a small microcosm. So it’s easy to lose sight of the true power of what we do collectively at a university, of the full impact that higher education has on people’s lives.
If I wasn’t aware of that power and of that impact before, I certainly was after seeing the faces of the graduates yesterday. As they sat in the audience waiting to be called on stage, every single one of those soon-to-be-ex-Glendon students was positively electric. You could have lit up the room with the smiles on their faces. And as they crossed the stage to receive their degrees, family and friends hooped, hollered, and cheered. It was a powerful reminder of the hard work, dedication, and support that lie behind each degree awarded. As I sat on stage with the rest of the faculty, I thought about all those young and not-so-young people about to leave Glendon and embark upon their next journey in life. I think I got a little misty-eyed!
But truth be said, I taught very few of the people who crossed the stage yesterday. This is because for the past few years, the bulk of my time has gone into first creating, then delivering, the MCI. And our first cohort of MCI students has yet to exit the program. So, as moving as convocation was, it was to some extent an arm’s-length experience. I knew what graduating meant to all those assembled in a general way, but I did not know many of the specific stories and experiences that led them to the convocation tent.
I kept thinking, however, that things will likely be very different at this time next year. That is when our first MCI graduates will be able to attend convocation at Glendon. That is when it will be my turn to be electric. That is when you will see my smile light up the room.
On that day, I will know — in a detailed way — the backstories behind each of my graduating students. And a powerful event will take on a new and heightened meaning.