Sharing a Moment of Their Lives

By Bobby Neal Winters

I had the privilege of standing in for my dean for some ceremonial duties during commencement this year.  I say privilege because it was.  Any other time, in regard to positions in academic administration, I will try to emphasize that it’s not an honor to be wallowed in, it’s a job. It’s not a trophy to be put on a shelf; it’s a job.  It’s not a medal to be worn around one’s neck; it’s a job.

But on the night of commencement, even though putting on commencement is a lot of hard work. To be there for the student is a privilege. 

I will explain.

If you are an administrator, most of the students don’t know who you are.  They interface with the university through the staff--who work very hard to help them--and through their professors with whom they share a wide variety of experiences.  This is what the university looks like to them.

That is except for the one special night of commencement.  During commencement, the world--their world--is brought together is a small neighborhood of spacetime.  It is gathered together from the county, the state, and, in some cases, the world.  And for a very short interval of time their world is tightly focused on them.

If you are there on that stage at that moment, you have the privilege of being at the center of their universe with them. You get to share that crowning moment.

Many, perhaps most, will forget about your part in it before they clear the stage.  A lot is coming at them. They’ve got their families there; they’ve got their spouses; they’ve got their friends and lovers.

But for that one narrow instant of time, you get to be a part of their triumph.

Think about someone who has spent weeks, months, and years hearing complaints, mediating disagreements, listening to whining, and generally solving problems that people could’ve solved for themselves had they simply been interested in doing so. Then that person gets to be with the people who they’ve spent their career helping at a memory-moment of their lives.

That is a privilege. 

It’s also work.

You have to realize that you are not a human being to these students.  You are a symbol.

They have a space in their head--probably a very small space--that you inhabit.  Small in volume; small in time.  But during that miniscule bit of spacetime, you are the whole university to them.

I’d never done this before so I was nervous. 

I had a--thank God very small--speaking part.  Don’t get me wrong; I love to speak. The sound of my own voice is honey in my ears, but this is different.  I wasn’t there to be me.  I was there to be the mythical entity these students needed me to be. My normal way of speaking is to ad lib to lighten the mood, but given the moment of the occasion for our students, this would have been totally inappropriate. 

Without having humor as a tool, I had to fret and strut my hour upon the stage. (Hour? No. More like five seconds.)

I was helped along by pros who were used to it. Thanks to all, you in particular, Melinda. 

I will say that I enjoyed it very much after I got the rhythm.  Apologies to the first few students that I learned on.  I figured out that even though--or because--this was such an important moment in their lives, they just wanted to get it over with.  They would’ve sprinted across the stage if they could have.  

I was handing out diplomas and getting them to pose for the various photographers.  I told many of them to take a breath.  I tried my best to get them to stop for just a second to experience this moment.  And--at the suggestion of my provost--to keep them from falling off the stage. (It’s important that they don’t break their necks at this important point in spacetime.)

Next year at this time, I will be ready to complete my transition back to faculty with a full load of classes in Spring of 2025.

Right now, I am basking in the glow of being with these students at their special moment.

It was nice.

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like” the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube.