Last weekend as a parent, and 36 years ago as a student, I went to Michigan Stadium to be among tens of thousands of people at the University of Michigan's annual graduation ceremony.
On Saturday morning, I walked with my wife and daughter (and my 87-year-old grandmother Nora) the mile from campus to the Big House, waited in a long security line, and then walked up the stairs to line 96, the top of the stands. . Fifteen thousand students from 26 schools of the university were on the football field, among them my son. More than 60,000 extremely proud parents and loved ones sat in the stands.
I don't know the precise risks USC, Columbia, and other universities faced that led them to cancel their school-wide graduation ceremonies this year. But what my family experienced Saturday underscored that the loss will be substantial and extend far beyond the personal.
After the obligatory rendition of “Hail to the Victors” and the raising of the flag, when everyone was seated and the speeches began on Saturday, I cried as I thought about our son’s miserable high school graduation in the spring of 2020. We watched a pre-recorded video from his high school. school in our kitchen, and that was it. The opportunity to be captain of his senior frisbee team was over. Same with the high school prom. Never a goodbye or a thank you to his favorite history teacher. No graduation parties. And his first year in Ann Arbor was equally marked by COVID-19.
But four years later, the pomp and circumstance were very satisfying. Some of the speeches were very good, others not so much. And yes, there was a protest: about 50 among the thousands of graduates unfurled flags and banners and chanted slogans in support of Palestinian rights. A plane flew over the stadium with a banner that said “We stand with Israel,” and later a banner (perhaps pulled by the same plane) said “Divest in Israel.” However, the voices of the speakers were heard; The students were honored.
At a college graduation, parents should be able to share a spiritual shock about the enormity of guiding (and paying for) a child's education. And students need to be with their peers for a big public celebration of all they've accomplished.
Colleges that have canceled their major events may respond by offering smaller, more intimate ceremonies that also publicly recognize the next generation. That's nice, and before and after the Big House show we attended exclusive department events. I met our son's favorite teacher and hugged his sophomore roommates and his parents. But departmental meetings are far from an adequate replacement for community ceremonies.
When I earned my bachelor's degree in 1988, I remember us students talking so much during the commencement speech (as beach balls bounced from row to row of cap-and-gown graduates) that the speaker chastised us for being rude. (He was right.) There were protests then, too: the largest demonstration was reserved for former UN ambassador Jeane Kirkpatrick, who had helped shape the United States' military role in Central America. I was a student activist and won a campaign for student government president on a platform that the university should not be able to expel students for non-academic protest activities.
However, I did not see the graduation ceremony as a referendum on the school or on my rights to freedom of speech and assembly, nor as a policy of national defense. It was a public recognition of a personal milestone and it was significant.
On Saturday night, I carefully composed the obligatory social media post of the day's events for friends and family who couldn't be there. I purposely did not include images or mentions of the protests. But sure enough, the protests were what generated front-page coverage across the country.
In fact, the posters and chants offer sensational images to the media. VIPs and their speeches can be rudely interrupted. Protesters can exercise their rights and ruin the program. Security can be tested. But absent profound dangers, cancellation or curtailment does not outweigh the benefits of a public celebration of education and excellence.
College graduation from USC, Columbia, or Michigan is a once-in-a-lifetime milestone; a balkanized approach does not do it justice. Administrators should not make students and their families settle for less.
Ken Weine lives in Brooklyn and is a communications consultant.
