Your name blares over the loudspeaker. Your family erupts in the far back corner of the auditorium – all 8 of them that you judiciously chose to award the precious tickets, while tears create black, Tammy Faye Bakker streams of mascara down your mom’s face. You nervously flash a toothy grin, silently telling yourself, “Don’t fall!” as you raise your leg to start walking. Striding with right hand outstretched and head erect, you vigorously shake the principal’s hand – you know, that person you probably haven’t ever actually met in 4 years? Seizing your “diploma” – the blank, rolled up piece of copy paper tied with a bit of school-colored ribbon – you strut off the stage into the side wings once again. Then, like a ton of bricks, reality floods back into view. “That’s it?!? Less than 20 seconds, and I’m done? Graduated?” abruptly registers in thought; you’re surprised at the ordinariness of the moment – an occasion that may have taken on momentous, Mt. Everest like proportions in your mind over the past four years. Then, before you know it, all 20,678 names of the Class of 2014 have been read. The lengthy valedictory and Principal’s and Superintendent’s and Vice Principal’s and class sponsors’ and random persons’ off the street speeches are done. You’re throwing your mortarboards skyward, whooping, yodeling and screaming – as you file out of the auditorium. Back outside, your cheeks are hurting as you smile like you’re on the red carpet. The Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr paparazzi – aka friends and family – circle like vultures, screechingly calling your name and every other person you’ve known since Pre-K to take picture after picture after picture after picture – to be posted for all of pixelated internet-‘ternity. And, just like that (fingers snap), “Goodbye high school, childhood, lifelong bedroom, old friends, AP homework, IB exams…” and “Hel-low, Rest of My Life!”
Savor the moment. Let the gravitas of what you’ve accomplished sink in.
Congratulations to the Class of 2014!
