Graduation!

In May and June, family and friends gather in stadiums and auditoriums across the United States, waiting for the orchestra (or the sound system) to play the stately chords of Edward Elgar, as “Pomp and Circumstance” welcomes candidates for graduation. Cell phones are held high in the air, as proud parents attempt to capture an image of their daughter with the honor cords, their son wearing the decorated mortarboard. How did that squirmy baby, that determined toddler, that defiant teen, ever make it to graduation?

The ceremonies themselves draw upon the tradition of cap and gown, Elgar’s music, recognition of accomplishments, and the customary graduation speeches, leading to the moment in time when the diploma is transferred into the hands of our graduate, as parents breathe a huge sigh of relief, followed by whoops of joy. 

I’ve graduated a time or two, and have no recollection of who the speaker was or what he or she said. Yet I do remember our son’s graduation from Ashland University, as Ashland Symphony maestro and graduation speaker Arie Lipsky concluded by lifting his flute to his lips, the pure notes of “Amazing Grace” filling the stadium. That was memorable.

Businessman Sumner Redstone approached his speech uniquely, noting the early placement of his address in the program. “There’s a reason for that. It’s what Mark Twain called the ‘live frog’ principle. Twain used to argue, and quite convincingly, that one should swallow a live frog at the beginning of every day. That way you’d know the worst part of your day was behind you.” He continued, “That said, I do have a mission to accomplish here. It is up to me to utter those words of profound wisdom and inspiration . . . that your mother will remember ten years from now.” 

The commencement advice is often simple. Admiral William McRaven’s first words of counsel: “If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.” Why? “If you can’t do the little things right, you will never do the big things right.”

Steve Jobs had a clear message to graduates: “Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don’t lose faith. I’m convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did.”

I also like actor Matt Damon’s approach: “Turn toward the problems you see. And don’t just turn toward them. Engage with them. Walk right up to them, look them in the eye . . . then look yourself in the eye and decide what you’re going to do about them.

There are thousands of stories behind the procession of students who will half-listen to graduation speeches in 2019. One is told by the New York Times’ Nicolas Kristof. Marilyn Webb completed her coursework and preparation for her dissertation in educational psychology in 1967. Then she ran into a brick wall of professors demanding sexual favors. In those days, Webb notes, “There was no word for sexual harassment, there was no language for this . . . no administrator to report it to . . . So I left.”

She’s had a great life in the intervening years, but she still thought about how her academic career had been derailed. As a 75^thbirthday present to herself, she wrote to the university to ask if the injustice she had suffered could be corrected. This week, Ms. Marilyn Webb will become Dr. Marilyn Webb.  

Many have juggled part-time or full-time jobs and parenthood, or suffered from illness, the loss of a parent, school shootings, or natural disasters. The race to the finish line may have had unexpected bumps along the way, as did Dr. Webb’s. But they’ve made it, cheered on by proud family and friends. It is a commencement, a celebration of what has been accomplished and a commitment to an unknown future with optimism and hope.

In a graduation speech in 2002, Mr. Fred Rogers offered a benediction I’m extending to 2019 graduates: “In all that you do in all of your life, I wish you the strength and the grace to make those choices which will allow you and your neighbor to become the best of whoever you are.” Amen.