Miami University: A Personal Commencement.
A couple months ago, I sat at my own college commencement and stared at a sea of red caps and gowns. I tried my best not to cry. It was the first and only time I saw everyone in my class in one place, and I thought about the thousands of ways we were all interconnected. In a crowd of endless faces, I could only see stories. A few rows up, I saw a girl whom I once shared a textbook with because the teacher had one free copy. I saw another girl whom I cartwheeled down the dorm stairs with at four in the morning. There was a boy behind me that I met at Brick Street who complimented my leather jacket. There were people out there whom I went to dinner with and remained after the check was paid. There were people whom I once saw crying on the way to class, people whom I conversed with in the bathroom, and people whom I once loved but fell out of touch with. They were all there.
I stared at these people during the entire commencement speech. Frankly, I don’t remember who was speaking or what was said. I’m sure that is pretty offensive to the hiring manager of said speaker but apologies, it wasn’t the best. Maybe I’m just a romantic, but I’d rather hear a story from my sorority sister about how she met her best friend, or how my old lab partner overcame depression, or even the epiphany Brick Street Boy had while drinking a trashcan at Beat the Clock. These weren’t stories about how they changed the world. They were stories about how the world changed them. I think we sometimes forget how important those are too.
To me, Miami University was an atmosphere full of energy. We had endless opportunities at our fingertips, and it was stressful to decide which ones to pursue. We were hard on ourselves. We compared our lives to one another. We changed our resumes. We broke down. We panicked. We questioned our worth. Or at least I did. There were a lot of nights with tears on textbooks. Plenty of days of self-doubt. Numerous compulsive orders of Papa John’s pizza. The list goes on.
However, there was always someone to pick me up. Friends that saved the day with hugs and motivational words. Classmates who empathized and offered to tutor me at King before the next big exam. Professors that declared, “You can in fact do it. You will set the world on fire!” I actually stole that line from the inside cover of The Hunger Games, but you get the point. We had a community at our disposal one hundred percent of the time, and that is a gift I will never forget.
About a month before graduation, my boyfriend told me that he discovered a way to climb to the top of Upham Arch. We went around midnight to ensure no one else was around, and my heart was racing the whole time. We were probably breaking some major rules, but I decided that I should be a risk-taker for once. I won’t divulge how to get up there: it’s not the safest and I don’t want anyone breaking their backs. Plus, secrets like that keep the magic of campus alive. It does involve a very steep ladder and plenty of darkness. Now that I’ve told you they will probably hire a new security guard, but there is always a loophole. I think I was sweating the whole time and thinking about the sales final I should have been preparing for, but when he pulled me through the window a mile above the lantern, I was breathless. I could see campus in its entirety, from Farmer School of Business to Tappan Hall. It was smaller than I thought, but it was beautiful. All of us resided in this well-lit, red-bricked area from sunrise to sunset. There were four years of path crossing, campus walking, and night stumbling to remember. It had all gone by so fast.
We stayed up there for a long time, mostly because I knew I would not be back. We talked about our friends and the hilarious things they had said, the first time we met at Kofenya a year prior, and the future that was coming sooner than I had wanted. We sat on the white chipped paint and laughed until our fingers turned purple with cold. I took a picture of the skyline before we departed. Again, I tried my best not to cry.
My experience at Miami was not perfect, but I wouldn’t have changed a second of it. I had amazing ups and some horrible downs, but I grew. I changed. I got a degree, but I also became a better person. I learned how to fail a million times and get back up. And I had a lot of love along the way.
I already miss campus and it’s hard knowing that everyone is moving in for the start of a new school year soon. I can’t wait to visit but I know that it will be different. Eventually, there will be new academic buildings, dorms, and whatever they decide to do with the death of 45. There will be new people who will bring a different energy, and eventually I may not recognize it. But my experience is forever with me, and no amount of Miami construction will be able to alter or damage that. And that is pretty beautiful.
If you are reading this and you go to Miami, I hope you cherish what time you have left. You are in a safe place. Don’t forget that.
I didn’t know the names of all the people in that sea of red, but I’m still thankful for every single one of them. Somehow, they were all part of my story, and I was part of theirs. Whether they moved away from Ohio or stayed in Ohio or still didn’t know how they felt about Ohio: I hoped that one day, whatever they did, they would find their peace. It didn’t matter if some of them liked me or hated me or heard I was a know-it-all or that I had the worst jokes: they were part of my home. And I will never forget their stories.
Love and Honor.