Liminal Rituals
In which commencements make me feel old
I’ve sat through two graduation ceremonies this month: the usual one at Union, marking the end of my 25th year on the faculty, and also Niskayuna High School’s graduation. Yes, that’s right, SteelyKid is now officially GraduateKid:
The former of these makes me feel kind of old, but the latter… woof.
I’ve been through so many of these from the faculty side now that it was a weird feeling to be experiencing one from the audience. Niskayuna High School graduates around 400 students per class (I could probably Google up the exact number, but it doesn’t matter), so it’s pretty comparable to Union in scale (we’re usually a little under 500). They do the ceremony in downtown Albany at the MVP Arena1, because the weather in June isn’t terribly reliable, and it’s big enough that they don’t need to issue tickets to families to limit the numbers. It’s kind of a cavernous space, and the sight lines aren’t the greatest, so a lot of my photos have a slightly Impressionist feel from being taken at maximum zoom on my cell phone camera2.
It was also maybe the least ceremonious of all the many graduation ceremonies I’ve been to. They had an opening procession where the faculty were led in by a bagpipe band— interestingly, not the same bagpipe corps that Union uses, which means there are at least two of these outfits in the Capital District— and then the students shuffled in to a recording of “Pomp and Circumstance” played by the school orchestra. I assume they do this so they can subtly loop the recording, because 400-ish kids take a long time to file in and get seated, and there’s only so long you can ask teenagers to play that “naaaa, na-na-nah, naaaaaa, naaaaahh” thing on a violin.
After that, though, it was surprisingly minimalist— only one student speaker (the class president, who did fine), some remarks by the superintendent, a few musical performances, some brief presentations, and then right to the reading of names. Which takes even longer than the file-in-and-get-seated part, especially as the process involved four on-stage interactions3. The program listed a recessional song, but they didn’t file out— after the last of the names and a round of applause, the graduates tossed hats in the air and then milled around on the floor congratulating each other before heading out to the street via a different exit than the parents.
The musical performances were the real highlight— they have a very good music program, and some extremely talented performers. Even The Pip, who works hard to maintain his cynical-teen image, said he was impressed.
Union’s ceremony, as always, proceeded with a lot more structure and formality. We get speeches from the Chair of the Board of Trustees, an honorary degree recipient, a student speaker, and the President, plus opening and closing invocations by a rotating selection of chaplains. There’s also an elaborate exit procession where the faculty march out through the Nott Memorial4, followed by the new graduates. This is all tightly stage managed and signposted, with regular announcements about what’s up next and instructions to the audience.
The biggest difference between the ceremonies, for me, was the Catalog of Ships reading of names. Union’s ceremony has the graduates walk to the stage via one of the colonnades flanking the library (where the faculty are seated) and exit via the other. I always sit on the approach side, so I can pass the time chatting with students as they wait their turn, complimenting their decorated hats or asking about the meaning of the various honor cords and sashes that they wear5.
As a parent all I could do was sit and wait for my kid’s place in the alphabet to come around. Sit around in spirit, at least— in actuality I walked laps around the concourse, because the MVP Arena seats are incredibly uncomfortable for someone my size. On the bright side, this allowed me to position myself better for taking video when SteelyKid actually crossed the stage (source of the screenshot at the top of this post…).
And now we are fully into Summer Mode, and also starting on the Emptying of the Nest. SteelyKid’s done with high school, and will be off to college in the fall6. It’s exciting, and also a little scary. For all of us…
So, yeah, I’m now the parent of a high-school graduate. If you want to see whether this intensifies my Yelling At Clouds, here’s a button:
And if you feel so moved, the comments will be open:
Real ones remember it as the Knickerbocker Arena…
The information distributed ahead of time said that the security restrictions were determined by the arena, and the arena policy page says they ban cameras with detachable lenses, so I left the DSLR at home. And, of course, nobody was actually checking anything…
Each graduate got handed a pin by some administrator, a diploma holder by the principal (with a photo), a handshake with the superintendent, and then was handed a carnation by another administrator. Then down a ramp to another photo station, and then getting the actual diploma packet (which also included congratulatory notes from local politicians) from one of the school counselors.
In the “God, I’m old…” file, they now regularly explain this as a deeply rooted tradition with important symbolism, but I’m old enough to remember a time before marching through the Nott. We started that in 2004, to mark the bicentennial of Eliphalet Nott becoming president.
My all-time favorite of these was several years back (pre-Covid) when a kid came through the line wearing a faded gold cord that was significantly heavier than any of the standard honor cords (which are usually two small cords of different colors braided together). I asked him “What’s that one for?” and he replied “It’s a decorative curtain pull that I bought at a thrift shop. My buddies and I aren’t honors anything, but didn’t want to be left out.” One of the buddies later came through with two enormous decorative tassels from the same cord set hung around his neck. Those guys are Going Places…
SteelyKid asked me not to say exactly where yet, but it’s in Massachusetts and not a parental alma mater.