As of the moment I am writing this, I have officially been named one of the thousands of alumni from the University of Regina. My convocation was held on October 21.
Honestly, I don`t exactly feel all that different. Perhaps if I had my diploma, I would feel like an accomplished, educated adult, but I actually had to send my diploma back to the university. My name was, of course, misspelled on the diploma. And yes, I do see the irony is an English major and a newspaper reporter having her name misspelled.
At least the day of convocation was exciting, and for at least that day, I did in fact feel like a professional. The day started early with breakfast before I made my way to the Conexus Arts Centre, where the ceremony was to be held. They made us come to line up about an hour and a half before the ceremony was actually supposed to start, but I feel like that was far too much time to give us to line up. Perhaps they were worried that the hundreds of university students wouldn`t be able to count, as we were all supposed to line up in order based on a number written on our folder. I may not be a math genius (that designation falls to my sister, who is about a year away from becoming a calculus teacher), but I think I can be trusted to know that 209 comes before 210.
For the ceremony I was given a black robe as well as a hood, which was a piece of fabric that was usually black with the colour of the trim designating which faculty one was graduating from. My colour, regrettably, was white. At my high school graduation, I was required to wear white as well. I`m starting to wonder if the universe just has something against me wearing colours.
The hoods, however, were not meant to be worn. We had no idea what they were to be used for, so they instead became a topic of conversation for those of us lined up in a conference room, one that was a bit more interesting than the other topics I offered, which were ‘heels are the bane of my existence’ and ‘who do I have to kill to get a glass of water around here?’
We couldn’t really decide how the hoods were supposed to be worn. I suggested, according to the slideshow that was being displayed on the wall that was apparently supposed to prepare us for all the intricacies of graduation, someone was apparently supposed to put the hood over us.
“Over our heads?” one of the girls asked, adjusting her hood so it was over her hair, almost like a very pointy bandana. “Could you imagine if we walked onstage wearing them like this? We’d look like we were in a cult.”
“To be fair, we’re all dressed in robes like we’re out of Hogwarts,” another added. “It’s cultish already.”
I didn’t have much time to tell her not to diss Hogwarts of all places before we were filed out onto the stage.
The ceremony itself was the part I wasn’t looking forward to, but when it actually began, it really wasn’t that bad. Somehow, they were able to announce 700 graduates in the span of about two hours, which was a lot shorter than I was expecting. The one difficulty came in the procedure each graduate had to make while crossing the stage. We had to apparently stop five times: once to be hooded, once to pass name cards to the announcer, once in front of the chancellor who we were supposed to nod at so he would admit us to his super special club, once in front of the president to take a picture, and once to receive an alumni pin. I was worried I was going to forget one of the steps, but I’m pretty sure I managed to remember them all. The only awkward moment was standing in front of the chancellor. The fact that he had to say “I admit you” to every single graduate that came across his stage was… a little bit cultish, I will admit.
The ceremony wasn’t a problem for me, but instead, what really turned out to be long, tedious and entirely unnecessary was finding my way out of the ceremony. We were instructed not to bring any personal belongings, so I didn’t have my cell phone or my car keys. I was left with no way to contact the family members who had attended my convocation, and instead had to wade through thousands of people crammed into the lobby. I have never been a claustrophobic person, but there have been two experiences that have made me severely question my nonchalance towards crowds. The first was trying to exit the Magic Kingdom after the fireworks show when thousands of tourists were trying to accomplish the exact same thing. The second was definitely this event.
At least when I finally found my family, I was rewarded with a nice bouquet of roses and a teddy bear. The teddy bear has its own graduation gown and a cap (which is funny, since I didn’t graduate with a cap), because even if this is supposedly a mark of adulthood, even I can’t resist something so adorable.
That bear is going to sit on my bed every night to remind me that no matter what may come my way, I accomplished something pretty great. It will also ward off the monsters under the bed.
