Graduation blues

CEBU, Philippines - I beg the stars to re-think the course of my present fate. As of this writing, the proportions of my life are nowhere near cinematic. I do not hear fancy, fitting background music as I rummage through the complications of dear life. Come to think of it, I don’t even know what’s going on.

Since culture has suggested a pattern of repetitious affairs, I, along with hundreds of others, was made to wear a toga and march my way through a much-celebrated ceremony. In the belief that I have complied with everything I needed to acquire to become a “professional,” I was made to graduate.

I think it’s unfair how life operates. At a very tender age, we are tasked to choose what degree program we want to take up for us to better prepare ourselves for the future. There isn’t a stage in life where we’re given ample time to grasp the enormity of beautiful humanity and embark on an expedition questing for what may become of us.   Given a very specific academic time frame, most of us aren’t endowed with the privilege of exploring the possibilities of where our potentials are best maximized.

However, I write not to expel my dissatisfaction towards cultural scholastic methods. I write to release the anxiety I feel towards stepping out of a phase in life; a phase I have been taught to love, and respect, and excel at. All throughout, it’s all I’ve ever known. School hasn’t just been a place for nurturing the mind and developing holistic growth. It’s been a concept I’ve gotten so fundamentally adapted to. What’s so different with graduating from college isn’t just knowing that you are freed from the chains of obliged school duties, it is understanding that this whole stage—the stage in life where messing up and experimenting becomes a basic right—is over. 

Over are the days when I’d have to combat piles of tedious homework. Over are the days when I’d have to sit through boring class lectures. Over are the days when sudden overnight slumber parties have to be considered because of nearing project deadlines. As I marched my way to my seat, I realized that, after the entire rites would come to an end, everything I was brought up to participate in would be over.

 School, in general, is a beautiful and an awkward place to be in. Most of the good stuff I’ve gone to know happen usually when one is still a student. The first kiss, the first heartache, the first basketball game, the first championship, the first graded competition, the first formation of a band, the first fight—yes, our firsts are memorable. As the process of school involvement unravels, we realize that there are a lot of good things in life and that our existence isn’t always a bad thing. We learn that the gift of education isn’t solely the act of being educated; it is being honed in an environment that recognizes our value as human beings worthy of respect.  We learn that friendships are essential and that connections are vital to survive in a socially demanding world; and we learn that love isn’t a fallacy and that the ability to yearn for attention, both romantically and non-romantically, is exactly what makes us mortal.

I think it’s extremely funny and idiotic how it’s possible for a person to miss hating something.  The idea of wanting to relive an unfortunate circumstance is odd and disturbing at best. But then, that is exactly what I continue to feel as I reel through my days as a fresh graduate. As the heat of summer progresses, I find myself involuntarily looking back at the many moments education has allowed me to create. I will miss having to worry about my attention being called regarding haircut violations. I will miss having to think of what to wear during the most anticipated Wednesday wash days; and I will miss being an occasional beggar for sheets of paper.  But on a more emotional level, I will miss the very people that make up school. I will miss the little classroom chats with my classmates before the teacher walks in. I will miss the excitement and the petty drama involved in group activities. I will miss having to annoy my classmates every so often questioning the presence of homework, or having to come up to my seatmates, or my seatmates’ seatmates to borrow a pen seconds before a quiz starts, or even having to wake up extra early so the strict, self-righteous teacher still considers letting me in the class. I will miss being scolded by teachers. I will miss the irritating pitching in of moral lessons about hard work and perseverance despite the class subject not being about Values or GMRC.

Sure, taking up a Master’s Degree may generate similar instances, but it will never be the same. A person’s first experience in college will always be special; and no matter how many reunions a class batch tries to organize, it will never ever be complete. For whatever valid, god-given excuse, not every single one will be able to make it. It will never be the same.  Every ridiculous and gratifying moment that was made prior to college graduation will be but sheer memories, minute fragments of abstract, distant memories. This reality is, in many ways, sad, relieving, and exciting all at the same time.

And as the dominating voice of unemployment presses even louder, I will be made to conform to the rest of society and fully immerse myself into transitioning into the person all those years in school has intended for me to become. I fear it won’t be easy. But I am left with no other choice, but to try. I feel that where I am right now, and all that I have ever attained resembles that of the movies where new beginnings start unfold and a journey to the unknown is about to happen. I guess I was wrong. Maybe I do hear fancy, fitting background music as I continue to rummage through the complications of dear life.