The Academic Regalia Striptease

So yesterday I attended graduation in one of those command performance events (you know, the kind where the Brass behaves like you really want to give up a Sunday afternoon). I know you must wondering: who holds a graduation in September? Well, I teach at a college that still has the quarter system--this is the end of the academic year. It's like we are in Australia! (Ok, maybe not).

Anyway, the ceremony itself was a typical graduation ceremony. The faculty stood around making small talk until we were lined up for the procession. I was waiting for my friend Mary, when a whole group of us was hauled over to the other side of the auditorium. I guess the idea was to process in two lines. Whatever.

We processed in, all professional and stuff, all decked out in our Academic Regalia. We sat in the choir of a local church--The Cathedral of the Holy Spirit--interesting name, interesting church. It was a giant theater, complete with a mezzanine, LOL. Sitting in the choir above the pulpit really gave me the bird's eye view of the proceedings. It was a bit hot too, since the lights were hitting us full force, and the robes and hood were a bit heavy. I also figured out why faculty alway looks so solemn when sitting in a group like that.

Hey, I wonder what a group of faculty is called? Lions move in dens, fish move in schools. What do we move in? I got it: A Boredom of Faculty.

Anyway, back to my observation. We look so solemn because we are sitting on our hoods, and they are choking us. We can't even alleviate the boredom by talking with each other--any move in the direction of the person sitting next to us will result in asphyxiation from the hood, or worse, losing an eye to a mortarboard corner.

I knocked my silly hat off when I leaned over to my colleague to hear her comment, and our corners crashed. Hers was clamped in place by a series of hair pins, but I so naively thought that the circulation constricting elastic would be sufficient to keep the monstrosity in place. There was an advantage to my geeky adherence to protocol though. Because I wore my mortarboard correctly, it worked like a baseball cap visor, and kept the lights out of my eyes (remember we were front and center facing the congregation, um, I mean, graduates).

Anyway, the ceremony progressed as graduations are wont to do. It finished in record time, and then it was time for the recessional. Nice. Let me tell you that if it was awkward getting up into the choir, taking those steps on the way down was a feat. My friend Mary actually stumbled, and her hat went flying. I just took off after the person in front of me, and zipped on out.

This is the best part. If we were moving at a clip to get out of the auditorium, the trip through the lobby was even faster. Ushers had cleared a path for us on our way through, and it became clear to me that the boredom of faculty was moving quickly toward their cars!

Yes! We were done, and there was to be no hanging around shaking hands and maintaining smiles. Once we got out into the sunlight and away from the crowds, the real display started. Nobody slowed down; it was a beautifully choreographed striptease. First the mortarboards came off--I passed more than one dead tassel, crushed by the moving mob. Then the robes were unzipped, resulting, for some, in the difficulty of flying robes and those darn constrictive hoods. Mine landed on the asphalt, luckily black side down. The funny thing is that nobody was slowing down; it looked like some crazy academic relay race. Nevertheless, cars became dressing rooms, as the race to get out of the parking lot ahead of the throngs of graduates and guests continued.

A good time was had by all.