The AS Review writers in graduation robes during a virtual graduation ceremony. Emma Barnett // Publicity Center
By MacKenzie Dexter, Stella Harvey, and Kiaya Wilson
MacKenzie
Four years ago, I was lucky enough to attend an out-of-state school. I imagined making new friends, living away from home for the first time, and challenging myself in my academic career. I saw college as a time to push myself to meet new people, figure out my passions and learn how to support myself after graduation.
While I’m going to graduate at the end of the quarter, I am one of the many students who won’t get a graduation ceremony due to COVID-19. I completely understand and agree with the precautions that need to be taken in order to stop this virus,but I am still disappointed that I can’t have a celebration.
I’ve lived with the same roommate for the past four years and since day one of classes, we couldn’t wait to finish our degrees and be able to apply and pitch our knowledge once we graduated. We knew that no matter how hard it got, there was an end in sight: the moment we could put on that cap and gown and walk into our future.
However, life is forever changing its narrative and bringing new challenges everyday. For the class of 2020, we won’t get graduation pictures with our parents, we won’t get to hug our friends goodbye and we won’t get to spend the earlier summer in the beautiful Bellingham. For me, graduation was the last step of a four year routine before jumping into the unknown. I was supposed to spend the day with my family to celebrate the accomplishment, but instead they will be states away.
While I don’t get that chance to walk at graduation, hug my friends goodbye or thank my professors in person, I am so grateful for the professors in the creative writing and journalism department who have pushed me the last four years and continue to encourage me during these times of uncertainty.
Stella
It used to hit me at random places around campus. I’d be walking across Red Square as the sun shone over Miller Hall and the Arboretum, or sitting and waiting for the bus, rain splattering just beyond the covered area. The thought would just pop into my head.
“I’m going to graduate one day.”
When I first got to Western in 2016, graduation weighed heavily on my mind. Having taken out student loans, I was determined to graduate in four years so I didn’t have to rack up any more debt than I absolutely had to. I found my way into the journalism department by the end of my first year and started carving out my path, meticulously planning each quarter months in advance. Whenever I couldn’t get into a required course or came close to failing a class that was outside of my comfort zone–shoutout to Statistics and Anthropology–I worried that I would have to put off walking across the graduation stage to receive my diploma.
After four years of walking the same routes through campus, meeting to create PowerPoints with loose acquaintances and running into old friends between classes, life at Western became pretty repetitive. The initial anxiety of being in a new place wore off, and I was lulled into a comfortable routine of grey skies and brick buildings. Beneath my immediate worries of upcoming assignments and exams, the distant thought of graduation became a motivator and I inched closer to with every class.
When a few of my friends graduated in Spring 2019, I envisioned taking photos in Red Square and getting to celebrate with my family and friends as I watched them head out to toast to their accomplishments. A few months ago, I started looking at dresses for graduation, envisioning what would look best under a black garbage-bag-looking smock.
When I think about not being able to walk across a stage in front of a room full of people, I don’t immediately feel sad. But my heart breaks when I think about how excited my family was to give me a big hug after the ceremony, and my limbs feel heavy when I think about not being able to be in a room full of the people I love, smiling ear to ear because I finished college.
This will pass, and I’ll be happy that everyone is healthy when we make a celebratory toast sometimes soon. But in the meantime, I’m super bummed, and that’s okay.
Kiaya
My family has always been my biggest motivator in going to college. I can still hear my Uncle Ed telling me, “in this family it’s not if you go to college, it’s where.” Going to college was seen as a big deal in my family because degrees are supposed to open more opportunities for you. Although, I also wanted to go to college to help me pursue a career.
When I got the acceptance letter from Western, I was so excited. I thought about all the accomplishments I would achieve, but I have never really thought about my college graduation. Not until recently.
Usually when I have thought about it, I picture the typical ceremony. Walking across a stage, shaking the hand of the president and taking pictures with my family afterwards. During my time at Western, I’ve always pictured this happening. Now that it’s not, it makes my college experience feel incomplete.
I understand why the live ceremony can’t happen, but it’s still upsetting that it can’t happen. I am eternally grateful to my family for the actions they are taking during this time. My mom has volunteered to put on an at-home virtual ceremony for me on the day of graduation. My extended family wants to watch the zoom stream of this, which is amazing, especially because there was some family drama surrounding tickets.
Honestly, I’m just happy to be able to graduate, but this situation sucks.