In college, I did a lot of terrible things. I did n’t want to miss my commencement ceremony on the National Mall. As the category of 2024 prepares for another flood of meeting delays this time, here’s some advice: miss them.
The only institution that has the honor of hosting its university-wide graduation ceremony on the roughly 150 acres known as” America’s front yard” is George Washington University ( GW). Every scholar in D.C. is taught to respect it. At American University, where I spent my sophomore year before I transferred, an undergraduate writing training focused almost exclusively on the National Mall’s necessity to American history.
When at GW, students could frequently be found honoring like heritage by making regular trips to the country’s “grand avenue,” whether it be during a sunrise run or at midnight. That, fraternities and sororities pose for photos. That, students go there with their families, and visitors from all over the world spend their entire travels there.
The school proudly advertises “offering graduates this# OnlyAtGW possibility of a lifetime every May” in the university’s official website. Despite all the controversy surrounding my political technology degree’s graduation ceremony, I was able to make one of the best choices I’ve ever made.
In 2019, when Savannah Guthrie of NBC News delivered the initiation address, I graduated from GW. I shrugged as I made the announcement. My issue with commencement was never the alum’s choice to respond. Every season, Young America’s Foundation (YAF ) releases a study of university initiation loudspeakers and they’re often near- universally communist.
Out of 100 institutions analyzed last month, YAF reported, “only a second traditional tone made its way to the podium”. Otherwise, the problem for me was the spectacle.
In the sweltering D.C. heat, I had two options for my final semester: sitting in a$ 15 folding chair on the National Mall and listening to a group of self-righteous administrators talk about how important they are, or I head out with all the tip money I could save by working overtime at a nearby bar. I chose the first. The exact weekend saw the biggest American event for energy dance music, Electric Daisy Carnival Las Vegas, and I knew I had to go to see it.
If I ever write a memoir, ( and everyone should in old time, even if no one reads it ), I’ll include the photos. However, my cap and gown felt much more useful in the chilly desert than the clothing would have felt in the muddy D.C. spring heat. The hapless strangers I rented a home in Las Vegas assisted me in making my helmet for the festival’s next day, which was the same day as the ceremony in Washington, D.C.
As anyone who has ever been to an electronic music festival knows, these events are filled with some of the kindest, most well- meaning people, even the ones not on drugs (um, just do n’t bring up politics ). Every strange man I ran into the group that moment knew exactly what I was doing: graduating in design. Non-stop, persons were congratulating me, and they did so with an integrity that, to be honest, fairly shocked me after four years in D.C.
Five years have passed since I graduated, and I still get chills when I recall my helmet lob. I had a vivid dream in my sleep that I threw my cap of to” Yottabyte” by Dutch DJ Martin Garrix during my final semester. When I arrived at the fixed, my intention was to just throw my cap on top of one’s shoulders; forget about the track, which might not even be played.
I was by myself at the performance, but the individuals I met at the event with left to see another performer, but I was single there. As happens at these points, people make friends with strangers in the group. I asked one of the men, who was built like a school quarterback, if he would hoist me on his arms for the next fall so I could shove my cap about halfway through the present so I could ask him for it. His response appeared as though I did n’t even need to ask.
As fate would have it,” Yottabyte” began to play as soon as I topped his shoulders, and I flung my cap off, never expecting to see it again on the first bass drop. The 400 people who were present and cheered as the cap flew was n’t what I was expecting either. After the hat made its way through the crowd, somebody returned it a short while later. One of the highlights of my life was definitely that college graduation.
After the festival, I took a straight flight from Vegas to Costa Rica, where I slept in a bunk bed and spent a week surfing. When I returned to D.C., I began working for The Federalist.
Everyone warned me against skipping the National Mall’s commencement ceremony. I’ve been wondering if I’ll eventually regret doing that. One of my favorite experiences, however, is still holding up at a music festival despite a decade-old demise ceremony.
So, here’s a tip for students such as those at the University of Southern California ( USC ) upset over missing out on commencement: do n’t be. Make a fun of it and make your own commencement.
