graduation day
2003-12-16
According to the official pomp and ceremony of academia, I earned myself a degree of Bachelor of Health Sciences today, or what I like to call the ‘Arts’ degree equivalent of the distinguished medical school. For the graduation ceremony, I - like the rest of my Health Sciences brethren - donned a heavy black robe, the symbolic carmine and white hood, and of course the token mortarboard headwear, all on what was a charming 37 °C summer’s morn.
The event itself reminded me of a curious combination of religious ceremony – particularly of the Catholic variety – and a militaristic display of rank and importance. Accompanying the academic procession was a nice little Johann S. Bach number on the organ. Given the sight of many robed men and women with medieval-esque hats and what I thought - from my limited vantage point - to be a sombre man carrying a sceptre, this procession made me think of a church. At the same time, we were all clothed, seated and treated according to the ‘importance’ of our award, which definitely had a military, or possibly feudal, air to it. The sight of our lowly carmine hoods signified the peasant class of the medical school when compared to the fair and lordly pink hoods and stoles, or the strange Elizabethan-style hats of the med students and the post-grads. Relegated to the furthest reaches of the graduate seating, the Health Sciences students were the last to be called, the last to stand up from their seats, and the last to receive their awards. By the time we had our moment on stage, the Chancellor had about him the look of a man who had simply shaken too many hands for one day.
But I cannot complain. Particularly not when one of my favourite Public Health professors – an ‘official’ member of the academic procession – recognised me on-stage and congratulated me as I made my way back to my seat. It was a simple gesture, but also a welcome boost to the pride…kind of like having a cool older sister who makes you feel tough in front of your friends. But truly, it was a fairly decent rite of passage. After all, I am now the proud owner of a certificate I have imagined hanging on my wall ever since high school: a certificate representing the first university degree ever attained on my mother’s side of the family, and certainly representing the first woman in the entirety of my family to go to university. Moreover, this is by no means the last of such ceremonies to come. Oh yes, ‘I’ll be back’, and next time, I’ll be armed with a carmine stole and a seat that is just a little bit farther from the back.
Yes, I will be back indeed. Despite my almost unlimited supply of doubts and hesitations, I have resolved to go ahead with my plan to take up honours in public health next year. In fact, I have already been accepted into the program. All I need to do now is enrol and commit myself to the process of gathering research during the summer break. It is exciting, it is frightening, and it is everything I know I should do. Next year, I will be thesis-bound. I will also need to begin looking for a decent career that I can immerse myself in following what will be my second graduation in as many years. If I do decide to resume my law degree in the future, that will make three graduations.
And so, with my first graduation completed, three years of toil are now summarised and officiated on a single piece of parchment. How strange it seems that it could be ended so: half of my university studies brought to a close in a single moment. Always, these rites of passage beg the question: what next? Honours, of course. And then? Well, that issue is TO BE CONTINUED in another episode, my friend. For now, simply let me bask in my ephemeral moment of completion, and awake to a brand new day.
