November 1, 2013
Dear God,
it’s a blessing to be back in Toronto today
thank you for the last four years
being with me every step of the way through undergrad
and providing me with this education as a stepping stone for med school
I pray
that you’ll continue to guide me through my Masters
keep my family safe
and be with Helvetia and I through this year
keep me awake through the ceremonies today
In your Son’s holy name,
Amen
*****
“Carol Jackson.”
Yet another gowned graduate crossed the stage, just one of the hundreds I had never met in my last four years. She shakes the hand of the first robed guy - our dean. Another handshake - this time the provost, whatever he does. Then, an elderly woman of some importance hands her the diploma, before she walks down the stairs on the opposite end of the platform, before taking her seat in the thousand-plus audience of the University of Toronto’s Convocation Hall.
“Kyle Jackson.”
Sometimes, I feel like convocation’s rather tedious and a waste of time, a mindless progression of students picking up their precious papers, their cummulation of sleepless nights cramming for exams, last-minute projects, and for many, tens of thousands of dollars in student debt. It’s almost like a party, held months after graduation, a momentary time where we pause and celebrate our near worthless degrees in the midst of loans and unemployment. But lucky for me, I’ve got my schools lined up for the next while.
“Earl Jacobe.”
Oh, Earl! He was in one of my classes. Protein structures, I think. Yes, he was the one who did the presentation on inhibiting carbonic anhydrase. My wrinkled and slightly damp program handbook says he graduated cum laude, majoring in biophysics. I can see the beads of sweat on his face. It’s way too warm in here, I can’t wait to get out of this robe and breath in some fresh chilly November air.
“Cathay Jacobs.”
Cathay - who went by Cathy - I knew from orchestra, though I’ve said little more than a few words to her in my time here. She played the Tchaikovsky piano concerto in my second year. Psychology major. I had the oboe solo. My parents had me playing wind instruments soon after I mastered breathing, I moved from flute, to clarinet, had a brief stint with the French Horn, before setting on the oboe. It’s a beautiful instrument.
“Abel James.”
I’ll be up next. The rather tall Abel, who I’m meeting for the first time, awkwardly staggers across the stage to shake the hands of the graying professors. I think of my girlfriend of three years, Helvetia, somewhere in the crowd of dressed-up family members awaiting a glimpse of their graduates to appear on stage. My family, while usually dedicated to being with me every step of the way, are on route to London, England for a big wedding - family reunion. It was a tough decision, but I encouraged them to go. Besides, they’d only catch a brief look at the speck that I am cross the stage before I once again disappear into the other graduates and sit through hours of name calling. Plus, we could always buy a video and just skip to the important parts, like right now -
“Albion James.” - or Al, as I prefer. I walk across the stage, gazing across the audience and trying to spot Helvetia, but I realize the task is impossible. I shake the familiar hand of the dean, his eyes offering both acknowledgement and praise. I was, afterall, the model student. I’d managed to finish off my year with a perfect GPA, in addition to my involvement in music, sports, academic, and social advocacy clubs. I’d met him in his office several times now, discussing various scholarships, and going over the details of the valedictorian speech I was to prepare. The provost’s hand was much colder, and the tired look on his wrinkled face that I could only notice on stage indicated that he too wished he could just fast forward much of this ceremony.
I shook the third hand, who passed me my degree, before I approached the end of the platform. It would still be an hour before I’d needed to be backstage to prepare for my speech, so I decided to slip back into the audience. Perhaps I’d find some of my closer friends, or even better, Helvetia. And by God’s grace, I did find her. I took the empty seat to her right. She was wearing her dark blue dress she knew I loved.
“Did you see me up there?”, I asked?
“Barely, but who could miss that big head of yours?”
“Haha, very funny. It’ll be your turn to walk the stage next year.”
“I know,” she said with a sudden quietness.
“How are classes going?”
“Good, I guess. It’s just not the same without you here...”. It’s been a tough few weeks for both of us. After meeting her in my second year (I was a TA for one of the first year biology courses), we quickly grew close. How often do you meet another Christian student with almost the exact same research interests? But now with her in Toronto and myself doing a 12 month Global Health Masters at McMaster University, we went from inseparable to being cities apart. Of course, it was only an hour’s bus drive, but the lack of constant contact was taking a toll on both of us. I was hoping to ask for her hand in marriage this Christmas, but now I’m thinking I’d be best to wait for us to be united before any such big moves.
Name after name was called - most I didn’t recognize, but there were others I knew from orchestra, other players on the lacrosse team, and some students in student politics that I recognized from the school paper. There were also a few students from my Christian fellowship that went up. And now the dean returned to his seat, then the podium.
This was my cue to return to the backstage, which I did promptly. I could hear snippets of the dean’s comments - “graduated summa cum laude, specialization in biochemistry”, “star oboist of the UofT chamber orchestra”, and “two-year goalie of the lacrosse team”. My work on my missions trips, volunteering with local community efforts. Classic resume stuff.
“And Al is currently working on a 12 month Global Health Masters at McMaster University on a full scholarship by the Canadian Council of Doctors, before he continues with medical school at Cambridge next year Medical School.” It was such a blessing to get that call from the university, also with my school fees mostly paid off with grants and awards. It would be exciting to move to England for school - I hope that Helvetia would be able to find a school there as well. That’s partially why I decided to stay another year for a masters, other than the scholarship, of course. I let my mind drift off into my thesis work, and into a future at Cambridge University.
A sudden silence in the air brought me back to reality. I recalled the speech I had prepared, I wrote it back a few weeks ago, shortly after I’d started my masters research. I hoped everyone would like it. Not having my parents in the crowd did help to reduce my stress, they could just watch a replay of it online later. The dean had just wrapped up his introduction, leaving the empty podium to me. I approached the lectern with a silent prayer.
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