Graduation trepidation · Issue 867

It’s meant to be the pinnacle of a student’s time at university – at least the academic pinnacle – but the only thing that comes to my mind in the run-up to graduation is dread and a high degree of stress.

All I’ve heard from former students who have undergone the ‘ordeal’ is bad things: we had to wait for ages; it was sweltering in the robes; I tripped up on the way to/back from the stage; or the photo made me end up looking like a five-year-old/fifty-year-old/an inmate with a day-pass from the asylum, to name just a few complaints.

Then there’s all the obligatory pomp and graces that come with the ceremony, as if we’re attending a service put on by the Royal Family. The rehearsal before the real event – isn’t that what you do for weddings? The confusing performance of standing, sitting, standing, sitting on a different seat, etc, and not forgetting the all-essential ‘doffing’ to the VC – with your, pay attention, RIGHT hand.

For the sake of having your name called out (I’ve also heard a lot of stories about interesting pronunciations of names) and receiving your award, by far an easier option would be to request it by post. Even better, put it online. I’ll download it in a few months when I need reminding what the last three years were about. Thanks very much.

Of course, for the vast majority of us, this could never be the case because when it comes down to it, graduation ceremonies are not for us students; it’s for our families. Which is fair enough I guess; it’s a big adjustment for our relatives, us going to university, when during school and even college, they get fairly regular updates at parent/teacher nights – in a sense graduation is probably the final and most grand ‘parent/teacher’ consultation of our lives. However, the matter of families only raises another issue.

Each student is permitted two guests to the ceremony. This is all well and good if you come from a ‘traditional’ family with a mum and a dad, or two guardians who fill a similar role, but what of all the graduates (myself for one) whose parents have divorced and remarried. That’s not to even consider siblings or grandparents (I know my grandparents would love an invite, but it’s very unlikely I’ll be able to offer one).

Of course, there are ‘extra places’ available, but the problem is I can’t guarantee anyone seats until the last minute. I don’t want the presentation of my degree to cause a family rift. I can just imagine it in a few years’ time at some special occasion, like who gets to sit next to me at my wedding reception: “But you got to go to his graduation.” Surely a greater number of ceremonies could alleviate this short supply of high-demand places.

If all this wasn’t enough to put anyone off graduation ceremonies for life, there’s more. The gear.

Not only is it ideal for tripping you up, and generally making you look like a first-class plonker (well, at least I’m guaranteed a first in something!), you have to fork out the tidy sum of £37 for the privilege to hire it for the day from THE robe makers who according to their website have been established since 1689 (talk about monopoly!) Then again, you could just buy the get-up outright from a measly £262-£352. That way you can relive the day at home; at least that way all of your family and friends will be able to attend.

On top of this, there are a wide range of costly ‘added extras’ aimed at the nostalgic relative market, from photographs to DVDs and the entrepreneurial University is even flogging ‘B&B’ accommodation in halls. It’d be an interesting exercise to find out just how much a student pays on average for their graduation day, I think it would be quite an eye-opener.

I’ve already been warned by a number of previous year’s graduates that the degree-presenter annually begins with a joke about handshakes and nurses, so I haven’t even got the punch-line of that gem to look forward to…

Oh well, let’s not forget what graduation’s really all about: many congratulations on finishing your degrees, guys.

But if you do see someone in the corner of the graduation ceremony contemplating the potential possibilities of suicide by mortar board, don’t rush over. I wouldn’t want you to mess up your hair for that all important photograph or, even worse, embarrass yourself by tripping over your robes.