Heidelbergerin has some observations on German commencement ceremonies:
Graduates sat in the front few rows, and each got to invite three people to come see them go up for their diploma. There wasn't any checking of tickets or anything, though. The graduates just dressed nicely - no funny robes or hats. There was one Scottish guy in a kilt. The program opened with some Beethoven on a piano. Nobody processed in, everybody was already just sitting there. Next, a guy with a cool bow tie and hat - the only guy who had any remotely academic costume going on - welcomed everybody, presented something to a couple of the graduates (frankly, I didn't find this part important enough to bother trying to translate it in my head), and introduced the main speaker.
We thought the speaker would say something relevant to the occasion of graduating, receiving a higher degree, education these days, the philosophy of the practice of and research in medicine, or something. But, the talk was actually about dementia. Not that dementia is not an interesting topic, but I totally failed to see how it fit with graduation. The speaker was totally full of himself, but it was at least amusing to watch him up there making animated academic-looking gestures, the likes of which you normally only see in comedy, quoting Latin and English, and being generally dramatic.
Halfway through his incredibly long speech, unfortunately a woman in the audience actually had a seizure and her friend called for a doctor. I think 3/4 of the room stood up. We were also entertained by some cute little bat that found its way into the auditorium and then just couldn't get out again.
After the speech, there was another piano piece, followed by an opera selection from The Marriage of Figaro. Again: huh? The singer and pianist were great, but the relevance of all this was still failing me. Then the graduates received their degrees. First the summa cum laude graduates were called up individually and received diplomas placed inside black folders. Then the rest of the graduates were called up four at a time and received their diplomas stuck inside a plastic sleeve with binder holes. Even though they were called up alphabetically, no advance effort had been made to seat the graduates in any sort of order, so they had to clamber over each other to get up to the front when called. There had also been no effort made to ask the graduates how their names were pronounced, so the MC had to stumble through them on his own, and it wasn't pretty. After this, yet another irrelevant opera selection, then we got to have some champagne and pretzels in the lobby (best part!!!). In all it took two hours.
I love the bat. A delightful detail. The "commencement speaker" was almost certainly a recently-appointed professor giving his Antrittsvorlesung, or inaugural lecture. These generally don't have anything to do with graduation; they relate to whatever the professor's research interests are. (Full disclosure: I'll be giving one of these (g) in about two weeks myself). To an American used to American-style graduation ceremonies, it will probably seem a bit off-putting to have to sit through a lecture on some topic that may be of very limited interest. Certainly nothing like the touchy-feely, brimful-with-hope commencement addresses typical in the U.S.
Signs of my creeping Europeanization appear in my reaction to the commencement address. Sure, the shriveled remnants of the American in me say "Goshdangit! Isn't it all supposed to be about the students? Isn't it their Special Day? Shouldn't they receive congratulations and perhaps some good advice for the road?" The American thinks there's something chillingly impersonal -- and perhaps even sinister -- about hundreds of people being forced to listen to a speech on a topic that is likely only to interest a few.
Then the European retorts: "Ach! You narcissistic Americans! First you shamelessly coddle your college students, inflating their already-healthy sense of self-regard and solipsism. Then, when they finally have to leave college, you shower them with yet more praise, giving them a big pat on the back for having finished college and, at least at the better colleges, warning them about all the Responsibility they will have to shoulder in their important new careers.
But in Europe, young people go to college not to feel better about themselves, but to learn things. The Antrittsvorlesung reminds everyone in the audience of what the primary purpose of the university is: to generate and convey knowledge. And so what if the Antrittsvorlesung might be a little complex? You American always want everything to be fun, perky, bite-sized, shrinkwrapped into easily-digestible edutainment. One of life's more important skills is sitting still and paying attention. Especially to something that may be a bit challenging to understand, or that you might disagree with. And believe me, that's what most of these graduates are going to be doing a lot of once they enter the hard, cold world of real work. The sooner they start practicing, the better.
Let us now draw a veil before the increasingly heated debate between the American and European. We can all agree that not practicing the graduates' names or seating them in a logical order was incompetent and rude. I've never seen a German commencement ceremony where this was done right. Part of the problem is, of course, the authoritarian design of most German university classrooms, which force everyone to cram in beside one another in cramped, narrow, wooden seats. But another reason is the general lack of professionalism in the way German universities are managed. The task of organizing the commencement ceremony was probably just given to some hapless employee of the Dean's Office or to a team of bored graduate students. Nobody has any incentive to put more than the minimum amount of effort into organizing the event. 'The commencement ceremony has always been chaotic and amateurish,' they think, 'and that hasn't ended anyone's career, so why should I kill myself to make this one much better?'
On the other hand, the situation's even worse in France, where, I have it on good authority, the 'commencement ceremony' generally takes the form of a contemptuous, chain-smoking bureaucrat shoving your diploma at you through a slit in a greasy plexiglas window.
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