October 29, 2005

I’ll tell you again: convocations are feasts of boredom that will sear your brain with meaningless words and intellectual jizzm.

For twenty minutes before the ceremony, I huddled with the other 700 graduates in a long, narrow corridor. The heat released from our bodies into that claustrophobic passageway made us sweat profusely and franticly wave our programs to get a little bit of air. Thus, it came as a relief when we shuffled into the stadium as an amorphous, undifferentiated mass. A military band played a dull, repetitive tune as we found our seats.

And then the speeches started. Every dignitary on stage congratulated every other dignitary, each profusely awed by their collective academic prowess. A woman with too many names and accomplishments gave a bland graduation speech, pausing often to remark how great everyone is. Polite meaningless words tumbled off her lips and into our ears.

The entire atmosphere was stifling and drenched in a misplaced sense of ritual. While most rituals are about intimacy (letting the participants partake in something greater than themselves) convocations are about distance, impersonality, and intellectual elitism gone awry.

The only words of wisdom came at the beginning of the ceremony from Bob Ray, who should have kept speaking. “The greatest thing you have demonstrated is your capacity for persistence,” he said. Indeed — six year’s worth of persistence, pain, and happiness. However did he know?