I’d like to begin this post with a quote. As every person who has ever given a graduation speech once said, “I’d like to begin this speech with a quote.”
This weekend I returned home to play the role of Proud and Supportive Sister in the production of Some More Kids Graduate High School. Which includes lots of photos, stress, and discomfort (at least for a thriving social butterfly like me). And of course the speeches. I’ve been to four graduations in four years, so I’ve heard my plenty of speeches and to be fair, I feel none the wiser. Of course, this could just be my own deficit produced by some combination of self-importance, snarkiness, skepticism towards authority, and taking everything with a barrel of salt.
Now most graduations I’ve seen include at least a commencement speaker – someone role-model worthy – that’s been chosen by students to share wisdom about College and Adulthood and Life. Then there’s the valedictorian who is already Smarter and Brighter and Holier Than Thou who gets to give a speech to their peers about how high school was Really Hard but now they all have a Special Bond. (Also, I had to look up how to spell valedictorian, which explains why I wasn’t one.) Finally, the head of school gets up and makes some pop culture references to seem relevant and tries to validate the four years of hell that is high school by telling the students that they have Made It.
You might be thinking this is going to be a very cynical and self-indulgent post. I just want to assure you that you’re not wrong.
My ideal, romanticized graduation speech would be chalk full of puns and irony, delivered by someone much more intelligent, kind, and humble than I am. And probably famous so it would mean all the more when they call me out of the sea of students with remarks about my intelligence and insight and nice hair. I’m thinking along the lines of Michelle Obama or Amy Poehler.
Okay, so that’s not going to happen and I’m not funny. But you’ve got to admit there’s a sickly robotic and systematic way we churn out high school graduates to become college graduates to become high functioning monkeys in people suits – or maybe it’s the other way around? Anyway, graduation speeches and Ted Talks and inspirational YouTube videos serve to break up our monotonous decline into consumer hell to make us believe there is Something More Out There. We want to feel relevant, important, and like what we are doing matters and we aren’t just counting numbers and writing essays to decay into a nonexistent, empty void. We are simply matter that wants to matter (see what I mean about the puns? bad ones still count).
To all the recent, past, and future high school graduates. You have been bamboozled, and on some level you know it. I am waist-deep in college and Adulthood has not Hit Me yet. I have not Changed or Found Myself or, honestly, Discovered the Meaning of Anything. I’m more confused than ever. I have more questions and less answers, more passions and less time, more things I want to do and places I want to go and less money. Less decisiveness. I’m more me than I’ve ever been but I know less of what that means.
To all the recent, past, and future graduation speakers. I know I’m not saying anything new and I know you have been tasked with a difficult task to address people with the appropriate amount of wittiness and inspiration. But we are all vulnerable and the longer we live the more vulnerable we get. I’d rather hear someone talk about that. I’d rather hear someone tell me about the all-nighters and cereal-for-dinners and failed-classes and failed-everythings so I wouldn’t feel so alone when these things happened to me. And instead of mentioning it as an example of human tenacity and perseverance, I’d rather hear that it’s okay to be weak. It’s okay to lie about being sick and skip class. It’s okay to text someone at 2AM when you know you shouldn’t. It’s okay to change your major four times and graduate later than all your friends. Although I might enjoy it in the moment, I don’t need to be told that I am brilliant and special and determined and prepared and Going To Make A Difference. I just need to hear that I’ll be okay.
So, graduates. You’re going to be okay. And not because of some divine intervention or singular moment when you realize you’re competent and successful and loved. Milestones are great and all because, yay, ritualistic societal markers of worth, but they aren’t the fun parts. They aren’t always the moments that make you smile before you sleep and feel warm and welcomed and included and peaceful. There’s no Something More that’s going to slap you in the face and transcend everything you’ve ever known that will ultimately make all your hard labors Worth It. There’s no More and there’s no It that you don’t create. But damn it if you don’t create them.
You’re going to have lots of little epiphanies that are much greater than the sum of their parts. You’re going to have snapshot moments that ground you, and maybe you won’t remember them in a year, month, or even day, but you’ll remember having them. You’ll get lost in the moment only to be pulled out again. You’ll remember the ground under your feet and the wind in your hair and the arms around your shoulders as you sing a song you don’t know the words to.
You might be great. You’ll hopefully be good. But most importantly, you’ll be okay.
xx. Diana
on being diana 