MY TRIBUTE TO A CANCELED GRADUATION

PREFACE:

A few days ago, I emailed my senior advisor asking if she could dig up any writing samples I submitted to her while I was still in college because apparently you need those at your disposal when applying to jobs in the public relations field. Writing samples for a writing field? Outrageous. She graciously sent them to me with a note, “writing samples are important, but I bet if you started a blog, that’ll get you further than the two-page paper about how social media is taking over the world.” The woman’s a savage – but she was right.

As a Journalism student, I know blogs are helpful and I even had one in high school (until I deleted it because in 2016, girls with blogs weren’t “cool”). Since then I never once thought about starting a blog back up because I just never had anything to write about. So yesterday I sat down and thought, right now, right now, Fall of 2020, the year of COVID-19, what is something I can write about that is relatable, interesting and mildly entertaining.

Then it hit me: Graduation.

Everyone has either experienced the cancellation of their graduation or has a son/daughter, grandchild, niece/nephew or knows a friend who has a kid whose graduation got canceled due to this global pandemic. I decided I could write about why my graduation getting canceled, in particular, felt like a punch in the gut.

Here’s the other thing, I’ve actually written about graduation before. When I was 18 and decided I wanted to end my high school blog with a bang, I wrote a graduation speech I was never asked to give. I thought it was such an Oscar worthy post, I saved it on an external drive.

Here is a sneak-peak into how it began:

“Apparently I lack all the things that you need to give a grad speech like "good grades" and "potential." So what, I studied for maybe one test in all four years of high school. I learned a lot of valuable life lessons in high school that will greatly benefit the class of 2016 and the future of MHS. Well, I will not be denied my freedom of speech. I dedicate this to the MHS administration.”

My speech was complete with dramatic, mouthy statements directed to my principal and tips on secret corridors to sneak to with your current beau for the kids who were still in school. Let’s just say certain teachers at my school were friends with my mom on Facebook and saw the post. Including the administration. True story. My father (a teacher at MHS) got a “stern” talking to by the principal, but we had a good laugh about it because I was already graduated and accepted into college. I got grounded regardless. I also went viral in the small town of Waco, TX for one whole week. Small victories.

Anyways – here is my tribute, an ode if you will, to the college graduation I never got. Enjoy.

MY TRIBUTE TO THE CANCELED GRADUATION

Last week I used "my friend from college" in a sentence, and I instantly aged 10 years and became uncool all at once.

I graduated 6 months ago. I remember thinking twenty one was it for me. I had reached my peak. I could stay forever twenty one and be perfectly content. The thing was, by twenty one I had morphed into a completely new person. I’m not sure how or when exactly it happened, but all of a sudden, I went from someone who was always late to class and disrespected authority figures to someone who was Monica Geller-level organized and became a legendary study group queen. Seriously. Twenty one was it for me, mostly because that’s how old I was going to be when I graduated college, and I couldn’t wait to graduate college.

Let’s rewind to before the global pandemic.

In college I was:

1. Early. As in, 20 minutes early to an 8 a.m. class. As in, most days I waited outside the locked lecture hall doors and made conversation with the office ladies next door. We were on first name basis and they gave me a coffee with a card on my last day of class. Miss you Kelly.

2. Prepared. If you know me then you already know I go to sleep early and wake up early. Hence my early reputation. I can’t fix it. It’s just how I am. So, what did I do with all that extra time? I prepared my life. I spent hours making sure my planner was color coded, my Quizlet was organized by class, my inbox was empty, etc. You get the idea.

I’d like to make a small note and say, I did, in fact, still have a life. See kids? You can study and still be cool.

4. Mouthy. Oh man, Dr. Meade, if you're reading this, I'm sorry about our screaming match Freshman year in front of our public speaking class about the JonBenét Ramsey case. I get passionate.

And finally, I was....

5. READY TO LEAVE! While I love learning, the education system and I were like two lovers in a dysfunctional relationship. I finished high school ready to go to college and I aced college ready to graduate. I was great at school. I made good grades, my professors loved me and I did everything in my power to make sure I graduated May 7, 2020. I could picture myself walking across the stage, shaking the Head of the Journalism Department’s hand, accepting my diploma and smiling big for the hired photographer. I could picture all that the first day of Freshman year, because here’s the thing: after sixteen years, school and I just really needed a break-up. This time a three-month Summer break wasn’t going to cut it.

You see, I’m a life person. I remember being told by a professor that I’m so much more than my grades and let me tell you, that inch she gave me? I took it a mile. I decided from then on, my grades were a means to an end. This tends to be the thought process of a seventeen-year-old acing her calculus exam so she can get into Yale. For me? I wanted a career. I wanted to travel. I wanted to live. So, what did I do? I aced school, I made memories and I thrived knowing graduation was right around the corner.

AND HERE IS WHY MY COLLEGE GRADUATION GETTING CANCELED WAS THE WORST.

For me, my college graduation ceremony was the moment. The moment. I was going to walk down the steps from the stage, diploma in hand and let out a huge breath because I was ready. I was finally ready. I’m a sensitive, dramatic little soul, so right now this may seem like a lot. It’s just that I knew when I released that breath, I was going to be ready to move on. Move on from the South where I went to school, move on from my community I depended on, move on from my part-time jobs and life as an eternal intern.

BUT then a global pandemic decided it wanted to be the center of attention.

There I was in class, a month away from that treasured (admittingly, over-pressured) event, when our professor came into class and said, “the Dean just sent out emails to prepare for online classes for the rest of semester. We are cutting class short today; I’ll email you with further instructions.”

My best friends and I looked at each other, our faces morphing into something similar to Edvard Munch’s Scream painting. First of all – we had spent months preparing for the project we were supposed to present that day and now? We were supposed to just send in our final project like a piece of homework that we hadn’t poured blood, sweat and tears into? My friends walked out of class with tears in their eyes and sat in the hallway crying, thinking of senior year ending so abruptly, while I paced back and forth in front of them.

Online classes for the rest of senior year.

HUH? What did that mean?

A week later I found out that meant graduation would be canceled and half my friends were packing up their apartments and going home early so they could finish their online classes with home-cooked food and free groceries. But I wasn’t ready. I lived half-way across the country from every single one of my friends and they were just going to go home early? What about our final goodbyes? I was confused by their actions; I didn’t know how they could want to leave any sooner than they absolutely had to. But they did and I was not prepared for any of it.

All of a sudden that final “move on” moment was here, and I wasn’t ready.

I felt robbed of time and final moments. I felt betrayed by my friends who had already left like they had been ready for ages, while there I was, waiting for the graduation ceremony that would never come, to be ready. I understood where they were coming from. If they were going to have to do school online, they wanted to be with their family. But they were my family and I felt like I was being abandoned. My mother wanted me to come home too, but I was adamant about milking every last second of college that I could. So, I forced my roommate to stay with me, convinced some friends who were still in town to come over and do online school together (socially distanced, of course) and did everything I could to prepare myself for when I finally had to leave the South.

But you know what I realized, right now, at this very moment? I was never going to be ready. Truly, I wasn’t. When you’re a sentimental soul like myself, you’re really bad at goodbyes, genuinely terrible at goodbyes. To the point where I'll go weeks without reading the last page of the book I'm on, because the inescapable end is too much for my heart to take (do Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth ever end up together? I wouldn’t know.)

I think that’s why I put so much weight on my graduation ceremony, because it was inevitable, I had no choice whether or not it was going to happen, it was going to happen. Being twenty two, right now, really just means that I'm not twenty one anymore and graduation has come and went. I never needed that ceremony to be “ready” or to give me permission to move on.

Lastly, I realized that I don’t regret a single thing about college, not waking up early, not working hard, not waiting in line at 6 a.m. for a basketball game because one day, 60 years from now, I'll tell stories. Like I always do. I'll be telling these stories to my grandkids and I can promise you this. Half of those stories will start with:

"Back when I was in college...."

I'll tell them about the time I waited in line for 7 hours to see my favorite band. Or when I almost died during a motorcycle festival from jumping on the back of a stranger’s motorcycle, sans helmet. Waking up at 6am to watch the sunrise with my best friends. Playing intramural soccer and losing. Driving hours and hours to watch an away football game which we would inevitably lose. Accidently spilling wine on a white house reporter and then asking if he wanted to borrow my shirt.

I'll even tell them about how college was hard, because I was constantly studying and attempting to prepare myself for things I could never prepare for. Allowing myself to bear pressures, insecurities and responsibilities I had no business bearing. I’ll tell them about how a global pandemic ripped me away from hugs from my best friends, the best job I’ve ever had, laughing in coffee shops and playing with the kids I’ve babysat for years.

College was hard, and they'll know that.

But if anything, I'll make sure they know that college was where I made the best friends a girl could ask for, learned to overcome those insecurities and pressures and taught myself that it’s okay to not always be ready.

Because every good story has a struggle. Every hero learns something.

And someday, when I'm 80, it will be the greatest story of all.