Commencement season is over

The commencement season is over. The sounds of that momentous occasion has receded as graduates harvest their well-earned crop of caps and gowns while lending their ears to exhortations from keynote speakers.

Traditionally, the folks selected to deliver the final lecture are those who made “it” in the bigger world. These are the “designated successes, the men and women who are through with the messy business of screwing up and growing up, of making mistakes and recouping losses”.

Most of the speeches are lofty, hardly realistic on how to deal with the ups and downs of life in the real world outside school campuses. Perhaps some of the speakers have never gotten off their academic horses or if they did, they must have missed planet earth. As such, I can understand acknowledgment of accomplishments and all the other lofty niceties that come with the final lecture.

Even if keynote addresses are written as “prescriptions” on the “how to” go through life experiences in Life After Campus, none would survive as the ultimate manual given that each individual’s experiences out in the real world is situational at best. But then it must be the culture of the commencement season to give that final pep-talk to departing graduates.

It was 32 years ago that the Class of 1968 marched through pomp and circumstance at the cathedral in Susupe. The venue wasn’t a choice either. The platform or stage under construction behind the former Hopwood Sr. High all landed at the beach when Supertyphoon Jean pulped these isles. The entire island was without power, pitch dark, decorated with field kitchen in school grounds.

The ceremony was fully lit–bright inside the cathedral–as the Class of 1968 went through its graduation exercise. After that, we all had to return to our dark villages. I resented the seeming omen–a dark beginning on a ruined island–as we said our last adios to classmates. That was the last of the golden days now reduced to our memory lane.

I honestly never had any dreams of being a journalist. It’s a field I have purposely skipped even with journalism class and a school newspaper being available then.
Somehow, my career centered on a profession that was slowly nurtured and strengthened over the last 30 years. It’s a work-heavy profession especially during the formative years as a cub reporter. In other words, you even write for the trash can! It’s a humbling experience when the piece you’ve written is crumbled and slammed against the trash can next to your desk. But it’s a sure way to earn your stripes, yeah?

Perhaps the most moving graduation ceremony that I’ve attended over the years was the one at Marianas High School which included the first group of handicap kids donning caps and gowns. Through an interpreter (special ed teacher) they expressed their sense of humility and pride in disbelief that they were given an opportunity to be part of the mainstream. It was an evening of joyful tears rolling down the eyes (like a river) of every participant. Indeed, it was a graduation to remember and it still is the most talked about commencement exercise.

“Anthropologist Mary Catherine Bateson gives adults an exercise” to think about during the commencement season. “She asks us to compose two narratives to our life history. Narrative One: ‘Everything I have ever done has been heading me to where I am today’. Narrative Two: ‘It’s only after many surprises and choices, interruptions and disappointments that I have arrived somewhere I could never have anticipated.” The story of life can read both ways. Give yourself the opportunity to learn resilience and if per chance all else fails, go up to Mt. Tagpochau and scream at the top of your lungs. Take charge and be good.