Thoughts and Feelings on Graduating in 2020
Next Sunday, May 23rd, would have been my college graduation. I'm graduating from St. Olaf College with a degree in French and Media Studies and had some tentative plans post-grad, but they're all mixed up now. Graduating right now is so weird because the feelings are very different. It doesn't feel like a celebration, but also at the same time, our graduation year is getting more attention than maybe any other year ever. Or at least in a long time.
(Note that a lot of this post will be St. Olaf specific, so the contextual definitions of the starred words will be down at the bottom of this post, for your convenience.)
I was trying to explain to my dad how I was feeling the other night. It was my last day of actual class on Wednesday and it was both sadder and more anti-climactic than I thought it would be. And I ended up explaining to my dad that it feels a little like taking an Irish goodbye instead of a long Minnesotan goodbye. And that there are sort of two sides to that. On one hand, I am missing out on celebrations, and parties, and hours spent with friends in dorm rooms, on the quad, and in the cafeteria. I missed my last concert with the St. Olaf Chapel Choir. I won't ever walk through the tunnel between Regents* and Tomson*, to get to class quicker. I won't get to grab a Cage cookie* between commitments, or ask Tori* and Elise* if they want to grab an ice cream after dinner. I won't spend another night with Grace* as my roommate, or watch the Bachelor with our pod*. I won't sign my name in the top of Old Main* and I won't have an 100 Days March* and I won't walk across the stage and get my diploma.
But on the flip side, I won't go to a bunch of extremely emotional parties where halfway through, everyone is in tears over leaving. I won't have to hug acquaintances and tell them how we'll have to get coffee soon, once we're both settled up in the cities. I won't have to think "Oh wow, this is my last time in the cafeteria, what should my last campus meal be?" I don't have to spend the last few weeks thinking about moving out and moving on. It's not better by any means, but there is some emotion that does not have to be processed in the same way.
The other hard thing is keeping straight what I actually miss and like about St. Olaf. Because once something is taken away from you so suddenly, you remember the things you loved about it, and you yearn for it, but you also forget the pieces that weren't that glamourous. Because you get swallowed up by the wanting, and lack of closure. It's a weird thing to try to keep your perspective grounded. Right? Like to take an example from high school. Prom isn't the best night of everyone's lives, you know? It's really fun for most people, maybe top ten high school memories, and a milestone for sure. But I don't particularly remember standing on the dance floor and thinking, "Oh my god. This is the best moment of my entire life." I remember thinking "Wow, this is really fun and there are my friends and my dress is itchy and I'm hot and I hope I don't step on someone's dress and wait I don't know this song, I hope we don't leave until there's a great song to cap off the night..." But the second it's gone it becomes the best night ever that you were robbed of, kind of.
That's not a perfect analogy, but the second you don't have that opportunity that you expected, it sort of becomes a bigger loss because you don't even know what you're missing... And I was talking about that with a friend* the other night. How it's not the act of walking across a stage that I miss. It's the expectation and milestone that you miss. Yes, there are actual tangible things you are missing. A dance, a party, a handshake, a hug. I miss my friends, and I miss walking to the caf, and I miss going to class in person. But everyone is missing that. With graduation, and I imagine this is only more true for high school, you're kind of missing out on an entire chunk of the American Dream™ that you were expecting.
You know, my sister and I grew up in a white, rather affluent, middle-class community where the question was never "Will you go to college?" it was "Where will you go to College?" and you were expected to graduate. It's not like either of us, although we've had are up-downs, had to really beat the odds to get a high school degree. But there is a sort of ceremony around it, and when you're anticipating that ceremony, and have grown up your entire life thinking, "Wow, someday I'm going to be one of the big kids that walks across that stage and gets their diploma", there's a symbolic loss to it. And I'm not trying to bring race or economic status into it lightly, or to validate or devalue anyone's loss right now, but rather to acknowledge that there are certain expectations that we grow up with, and those expectations vary across culture, racially, socially, economically, geographically, etc.
All this is to say that how I'm feeling about graduating next week is really really complicated and weirdly abstract. Like it's less about missing a party (which I am also missing), and more about just feeling a little cut adrift. I didn't reach the "walk across stage" marker, so how can I reach the "get job" marker? And What do I do if the "get job" marker, doesn't exist right now? I'm stuck looking back a little at what's gone, because I don't have a tangible job or plan to look forward to yet. And that's okay. That's okay right now. And there is something to be grateful for, in that I have some time to really think about what I want to do next, and some time to take a break after an INSANE semester end. But it's not the same feeling of graduation where you're already one foot out the door.
The really hard thing about grieving something so abstract is that it also feels like you can't remember the bad parts without being ungrateful or even being able to celebrate overcoming those bad parts. Like, St. Olaf wasn't always the best place for me. I had a really hard time adjusting to life there, and I often felt overwhelmed by a culture of stress. I loved choir but most of my friends weren't in choir. That got lonely sometimes when so much of my time was taken up by choir. I have really close friends were college but I don't have a big gang that I hang out with. A lot of my friends really struggled and half of my friends in my first year transferred. So I see all these pictures of big groups of friends saying goodbye, and I just don't have that same association with St. Olaf. I sometimes felt really lonely there, and as much as St. Olaf stresses community, I sometimes felt like I wasn't a part of it. Most of my favorite memories from college happened off-campus or while studying abroad. And I was really stressed out and overwhelmed this semester before it was online.
And once that's gone, it's almost like trying to process how sad you are that you didn't finish the way you wanted or expected to. You miss the milestone, and you miss the people, and you miss your own space. But instead of feeling like you made a choice to say, hey the bad outweighs the good, so let's get out of here, the good and the bad were wiped away, and it that move, it sort of flattens college or highschool into this "good" that you've missed out on when in reality it wasn't always all good. There was a whole lot of good. But there was challenging and hard and sad and bad too.
So there's an abstractness to missing out on this whole graduation ceremony tradition, while at the same time you're missing very concrete things like friends and gatherings, just like everyone else. And there are things you don't miss, which is totally okay but doesn't feel all that justified right now. And then there's an abstractness to having to trust that the next chapter is out there and worth being excited about, but you don't know what that will look like yet. So it's this hodgepodge of very real grief and loss and then very conceptual and cultural loss and grief. And weirdly some random joy and gratitude and relief too. And that's both kind of sad, and hopeful.
I don't know if ANY of that makes ANY sense. But that's how I'm feeling right now.
If I could say anything to the classes of 2020, college, or high school, I would just say that how you're feeling right now and processing this all is okay. And that it is okay to be sad, but it is also okay to be happy right now and find moments of joy. And that we have to remember that this isn't a door closing on the best part of our lives. In the words of my dad, "This is just like the end of one good book, and you're about to open the next one that's different, but just as good and exciting, if not even better". And then I think he said something about how you don't have that same perspective if you're a "young pup" but that you do when you're old like him. Or something like that.
So ya. That's all. I'm not sure there's really a through-line there or any real takeaways, but that how I'm feeling right now, as my graduation approaches. I'd also like to take a quick second to just say thank you to my parents and professors who have worked really hard to try and make this time still special for me. And to the family and friends and parents and boyfriend that have been really good listeners as I've processed all these weird, big, unprecedented and unexpected feelings. It's the people that are making this graduation special when often it is the event and pomp that makes it so special. So thank you. And I hope this did not come off as a complaint, because truly, everyone I have talked to about all this has been so kind and encouraging, and that's been such a gift.
So maybe I'd also say that to my fellow 2020 graduates: Take the time to love up the people around you that are doing their absolute most to love you up right now. Even when you're stress, and confused, and have feelings as complicated as the ones I just tried to explain above. Hold your people close in whatever way you can right now. And I hope someday we can all look back on all this at our 50th reunions and think, "What a weird time! It really brought our class closer together." and then we can all move on and do the normal reunion things of like, idk comparing corporate jobs and spouses or something (idk what you do at reunions, I've mostly only seen them on TV but I bet ours will be extra exciting!)
Sending lots of love to everyone, and as a reminder, if you have a story or perspective you'd like to share, feel free to email me at cristianahawthorne@gmail.com.
XO,
Cristiana
Translations and explanations:
Regents: Regents Hall of Natural Sciences, the science building on St. Olaf campus, that is connected through an underground tunnel to Tomson Hall.
Tomson: Tomson Hall, a building on St. Olaf campus that houses the language departments, the admissions office, and various student services. Connected by a tunnel to Regents Hall.
Cage cookie: The Cage is a coffee shop on St. Olaf campus, and is known to have fantastic cookies.
Cage cookie encompasses a variety of types of cookie, but it means you bought it at the Cage. It doesn't matter which, they are all good.
Tori: One of my best friends from college. Majoring in Spanish and Art History, Tori is known for having a dog named Winston that lives on campus with her, having an almost encyclopedic knowledge of memes, her incredible self-portraits, and her "hilarious" poop jokes.
Elise: One of my best friends from college. Majoring in Spanish, English, and Media Studies, Elise is known for her lack of social media, bouncy walk, great present buying, awesome short stories, and ability to out-maneuver and out-plan even the best of planners.
Grace: One of my best friends from college, and my roommate. Majoring in English, History, and Women's and Gender Studies, Grace is known for her fancy calligraphy, her vast knowledge of books, her involvement in about every single campus organization, and her brief but meaningful cameo on Portlandia.
Pod: A pod is a group of 6-10 roommates in Ytterboe Hall at St. Olaf, where you have a few rooms centered around a common area. Our pod had 2 singles and 4 doubles, for a total of 10 girls all living together.
Old Main: In this context, Old Main is where we house our religion department and as the first building on campus, it's called, like a lot of schools, Old Main. And every year the graduating class gets to climb up into the rafters and sign their name up there.
100 Days March: All the seniors walk from campus, through the neighborhood, and into downtown Northfield, while townies hand out beer. Traditionally held when there are only 100 days left of school, but it's usually postponed until April or May because of the weather.
Friend in paragraph 6: That friend is actually my boyfriend, Aaron, but if I didn't clarify that, I know I would get an earful later about how he's my boyfriend not JUST a friend heehee. I, of course, phrased it that way to get under his skin. And so if you read this far, look! You get bonus insight into word choice. Aaron and I have a good rapport. Aaron, you better see this. This whole little end note here is for you. In other news, Aaron is a 2019 graduate of St. Olaf College with a degree in Theater and Management Studies and is known for his uncanny ability to take the word friend very personally, the countless theatre productions he's directed, his graphic design skills, his creative dates, and his excellent commitment to party themes.
 |
| I don't have a college graduation photo but here's one from high school |
(Note that a lot of this post will be St. Olaf specific, so the contextual definitions of the starred words will be down at the bottom of this post, for your convenience.)
I was trying to explain to my dad how I was feeling the other night. It was my last day of actual class on Wednesday and it was both sadder and more anti-climactic than I thought it would be. And I ended up explaining to my dad that it feels a little like taking an Irish goodbye instead of a long Minnesotan goodbye. And that there are sort of two sides to that. On one hand, I am missing out on celebrations, and parties, and hours spent with friends in dorm rooms, on the quad, and in the cafeteria. I missed my last concert with the St. Olaf Chapel Choir. I won't ever walk through the tunnel between Regents* and Tomson*, to get to class quicker. I won't get to grab a Cage cookie* between commitments, or ask Tori* and Elise* if they want to grab an ice cream after dinner. I won't spend another night with Grace* as my roommate, or watch the Bachelor with our pod*. I won't sign my name in the top of Old Main* and I won't have an 100 Days March* and I won't walk across the stage and get my diploma.
 |
| My friends and I, after our first year at St. Olaf |
But on the flip side, I won't go to a bunch of extremely emotional parties where halfway through, everyone is in tears over leaving. I won't have to hug acquaintances and tell them how we'll have to get coffee soon, once we're both settled up in the cities. I won't have to think "Oh wow, this is my last time in the cafeteria, what should my last campus meal be?" I don't have to spend the last few weeks thinking about moving out and moving on. It's not better by any means, but there is some emotion that does not have to be processed in the same way.
The other hard thing is keeping straight what I actually miss and like about St. Olaf. Because once something is taken away from you so suddenly, you remember the things you loved about it, and you yearn for it, but you also forget the pieces that weren't that glamourous. Because you get swallowed up by the wanting, and lack of closure. It's a weird thing to try to keep your perspective grounded. Right? Like to take an example from high school. Prom isn't the best night of everyone's lives, you know? It's really fun for most people, maybe top ten high school memories, and a milestone for sure. But I don't particularly remember standing on the dance floor and thinking, "Oh my god. This is the best moment of my entire life." I remember thinking "Wow, this is really fun and there are my friends and my dress is itchy and I'm hot and I hope I don't step on someone's dress and wait I don't know this song, I hope we don't leave until there's a great song to cap off the night..." But the second it's gone it becomes the best night ever that you were robbed of, kind of.
That's not a perfect analogy, but the second you don't have that opportunity that you expected, it sort of becomes a bigger loss because you don't even know what you're missing... And I was talking about that with a friend* the other night. How it's not the act of walking across a stage that I miss. It's the expectation and milestone that you miss. Yes, there are actual tangible things you are missing. A dance, a party, a handshake, a hug. I miss my friends, and I miss walking to the caf, and I miss going to class in person. But everyone is missing that. With graduation, and I imagine this is only more true for high school, you're kind of missing out on an entire chunk of the American Dream™ that you were expecting.
 |
| My first day of class, my first year at St. Olaf |
You know, my sister and I grew up in a white, rather affluent, middle-class community where the question was never "Will you go to college?" it was "Where will you go to College?" and you were expected to graduate. It's not like either of us, although we've had are up-downs, had to really beat the odds to get a high school degree. But there is a sort of ceremony around it, and when you're anticipating that ceremony, and have grown up your entire life thinking, "Wow, someday I'm going to be one of the big kids that walks across that stage and gets their diploma", there's a symbolic loss to it. And I'm not trying to bring race or economic status into it lightly, or to validate or devalue anyone's loss right now, but rather to acknowledge that there are certain expectations that we grow up with, and those expectations vary across culture, racially, socially, economically, geographically, etc.
All this is to say that how I'm feeling about graduating next week is really really complicated and weirdly abstract. Like it's less about missing a party (which I am also missing), and more about just feeling a little cut adrift. I didn't reach the "walk across stage" marker, so how can I reach the "get job" marker? And What do I do if the "get job" marker, doesn't exist right now? I'm stuck looking back a little at what's gone, because I don't have a tangible job or plan to look forward to yet. And that's okay. That's okay right now. And there is something to be grateful for, in that I have some time to really think about what I want to do next, and some time to take a break after an INSANE semester end. But it's not the same feeling of graduation where you're already one foot out the door.
The really hard thing about grieving something so abstract is that it also feels like you can't remember the bad parts without being ungrateful or even being able to celebrate overcoming those bad parts. Like, St. Olaf wasn't always the best place for me. I had a really hard time adjusting to life there, and I often felt overwhelmed by a culture of stress. I loved choir but most of my friends weren't in choir. That got lonely sometimes when so much of my time was taken up by choir. I have really close friends were college but I don't have a big gang that I hang out with. A lot of my friends really struggled and half of my friends in my first year transferred. So I see all these pictures of big groups of friends saying goodbye, and I just don't have that same association with St. Olaf. I sometimes felt really lonely there, and as much as St. Olaf stresses community, I sometimes felt like I wasn't a part of it. Most of my favorite memories from college happened off-campus or while studying abroad. And I was really stressed out and overwhelmed this semester before it was online.
 |
| Me trying to hilariously cope with stress but accidentally walking around looking like some sort of alien |
 |
| A live photo of what at least 30% of college looks like. (Crying selfies always make me laugh later that's why I have this hahaha and I hope it makes you chuckle right now) |
So there's an abstractness to missing out on this whole graduation ceremony tradition, while at the same time you're missing very concrete things like friends and gatherings, just like everyone else. And there are things you don't miss, which is totally okay but doesn't feel all that justified right now. And then there's an abstractness to having to trust that the next chapter is out there and worth being excited about, but you don't know what that will look like yet. So it's this hodgepodge of very real grief and loss and then very conceptual and cultural loss and grief. And weirdly some random joy and gratitude and relief too. And that's both kind of sad, and hopeful.
I don't know if ANY of that makes ANY sense. But that's how I'm feeling right now.
 |
| Me in front of my first-year dorm |
If I could say anything to the classes of 2020, college, or high school, I would just say that how you're feeling right now and processing this all is okay. And that it is okay to be sad, but it is also okay to be happy right now and find moments of joy. And that we have to remember that this isn't a door closing on the best part of our lives. In the words of my dad, "This is just like the end of one good book, and you're about to open the next one that's different, but just as good and exciting, if not even better". And then I think he said something about how you don't have that same perspective if you're a "young pup" but that you do when you're old like him. Or something like that.
So ya. That's all. I'm not sure there's really a through-line there or any real takeaways, but that how I'm feeling right now, as my graduation approaches. I'd also like to take a quick second to just say thank you to my parents and professors who have worked really hard to try and make this time still special for me. And to the family and friends and parents and boyfriend that have been really good listeners as I've processed all these weird, big, unprecedented and unexpected feelings. It's the people that are making this graduation special when often it is the event and pomp that makes it so special. So thank you. And I hope this did not come off as a complaint, because truly, everyone I have talked to about all this has been so kind and encouraging, and that's been such a gift.
So maybe I'd also say that to my fellow 2020 graduates: Take the time to love up the people around you that are doing their absolute most to love you up right now. Even when you're stress, and confused, and have feelings as complicated as the ones I just tried to explain above. Hold your people close in whatever way you can right now. And I hope someday we can all look back on all this at our 50th reunions and think, "What a weird time! It really brought our class closer together." and then we can all move on and do the normal reunion things of like, idk comparing corporate jobs and spouses or something (idk what you do at reunions, I've mostly only seen them on TV but I bet ours will be extra exciting!)
Sending lots of love to everyone, and as a reminder, if you have a story or perspective you'd like to share, feel free to email me at cristianahawthorne@gmail.com.
XO,
Cristiana
Translations and explanations:
Regents: Regents Hall of Natural Sciences, the science building on St. Olaf campus, that is connected through an underground tunnel to Tomson Hall.
Tomson: Tomson Hall, a building on St. Olaf campus that houses the language departments, the admissions office, and various student services. Connected by a tunnel to Regents Hall.
Cage cookie: The Cage is a coffee shop on St. Olaf campus, and is known to have fantastic cookies.
Cage cookie encompasses a variety of types of cookie, but it means you bought it at the Cage. It doesn't matter which, they are all good.
Tori: One of my best friends from college. Majoring in Spanish and Art History, Tori is known for having a dog named Winston that lives on campus with her, having an almost encyclopedic knowledge of memes, her incredible self-portraits, and her "hilarious" poop jokes.
Elise: One of my best friends from college. Majoring in Spanish, English, and Media Studies, Elise is known for her lack of social media, bouncy walk, great present buying, awesome short stories, and ability to out-maneuver and out-plan even the best of planners.
Grace: One of my best friends from college, and my roommate. Majoring in English, History, and Women's and Gender Studies, Grace is known for her fancy calligraphy, her vast knowledge of books, her involvement in about every single campus organization, and her brief but meaningful cameo on Portlandia.
Pod: A pod is a group of 6-10 roommates in Ytterboe Hall at St. Olaf, where you have a few rooms centered around a common area. Our pod had 2 singles and 4 doubles, for a total of 10 girls all living together.
Old Main: In this context, Old Main is where we house our religion department and as the first building on campus, it's called, like a lot of schools, Old Main. And every year the graduating class gets to climb up into the rafters and sign their name up there.
100 Days March: All the seniors walk from campus, through the neighborhood, and into downtown Northfield, while townies hand out beer. Traditionally held when there are only 100 days left of school, but it's usually postponed until April or May because of the weather.
Friend in paragraph 6: That friend is actually my boyfriend, Aaron, but if I didn't clarify that, I know I would get an earful later about how he's my boyfriend not JUST a friend heehee. I, of course, phrased it that way to get under his skin. And so if you read this far, look! You get bonus insight into word choice. Aaron and I have a good rapport. Aaron, you better see this. This whole little end note here is for you. In other news, Aaron is a 2019 graduate of St. Olaf College with a degree in Theater and Management Studies and is known for his uncanny ability to take the word friend very personally, the countless theatre productions he's directed, his graphic design skills, his creative dates, and his excellent commitment to party themes.
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