The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
10 — Wednesday, April 21, 2021
statement
I
wasn’t surprised when the University of
Michigan announced a virtual gradua-
tion commencement in February.
How could I be? After over a year of the
COVID-19 pandemic, it seemed almost routine
to keep delaying expectations of normality.
While COVID-19 cases in Michigan were in a
lull at the time, given the predicted spikes in
daily cases around the winter holiday season,
it was clear that celebrations could result in an
upward trend. Today, with Michigan seeing
the highest number of COVID-19 cases in the
country, it seems risky to host a mega-gradua-
tion ceremony in the Big House. At the time of
the announcement, however, University Presi-
dent Mark Schlissel faced considerable back-
lash from the University’s graduating seniors.
Almost immediately, Public Policy senior
Tal Lipkin started a petition for an in-person
graduation ceremony. The petition currently
has over 5,800 signatures from seniors, parents
and alumni. In the weeks following, it was hard
to ignore the blue signs adorned with “HONK
to support UMich Class of 2021 IN-PERSON,
SAFE OPT-IN Grad Ceremony” placed
around campus.
“I deserve a graduation,” LSA senior Riley
McMahon publicly commented on the peti-
tion two months ago.
On March 15, Lipkin updated the petition
with a call to action. She urged parents and
students to call and email Schlissel and the
University’s Board of Regents all day to push
for a compromise. Eventually, their efforts did
partially pay off. On March 25, Schlissel an-
nounced the opening of Michigan Stadium for
a live viewing of the virtual graduation com-
mencement.
Even so, it’s hard to ignore the disappoint-
ment of the class of 2021. We were the only
year to miss out on the end of junior and se-
nior year, a time usually marked by milestones
and celebrations. On top of that, job prospects
look bleak — the U.S. unemployment rate is at
6.0%, which is still 2.5% higher than the pre-
pandemic levels of February 2020. Enrollment
in post-graduate programs increased signifi-
cantly last year: Medical schools saw an 18%
increase and law schools saw a whopping 32%
increase for the 2020-2021 application cycle.
Many graduates see more schooling as their
only option in a sparse job market.
Yet, as warmer weather washes over Ann
Arbor, the city is teeming with life. I see cap and
gown-clad students every time I pass through
Law Quadrangle. Student photographers are
still advertising their rates on social media plat-
forms, and nearly all my friends have someone
taking pictures for them. Despite the disap-
pointments, the class of 2021 isn’t shying away
from graduation celebrations.
So, how do seniors really feel about gradu-
ating during a pandemic?
A subdued graduation
“I actually don’t even know what day grad-
uation is,” Sarah Minnis confessed to me in a
Zoom interview with a laugh.
Minnis is a first-generation college student
and a LSA senior majoring in Biopsychol-
ogy, Cognition, and Neuroscience. While she’s
proud to be the first of her family to graduate in
May, Minnis doesn’t put too much stake in the
ceremony itself.
“I know that I’m getting my degree and
I know I worked hard. I don’t need a crowd
watching me,” Minnis told me. “It’s important
that I’m the first person in my family. But it’s
the act of going through school and completing
the degree. It’s not the graduation ceremony
itself that’s important.”
As I talked to more graduating seniors, I re-
alized that this viewpoint wasn’t unique.
“I’m not super bummed about this whole
literal graduation,” Timmy Li, a LSA senior ma-
joring in Biomolecular Science, said in a Zoom
interview. “Graduating is not the biggest deal to
me. It’s more about ending senior year overall.”
I found myself in agreement with Min-
nis and Li. I’ve never been one to seek out the
limelight, and the thought of random strangers
clapping for me always felt strange. Perhaps I
had set my expectations low — ever since the
start of the pandemic, I had never thought
an in-person commencement would be pos-
sible. So when virtual commencement was an-
nounced, I didn’t feel let down.
On top of that, many degree programs are
having their own virtual graduation ceremo-
nies apart from the main commencement. The
Ross School of Business is holding a student-
only event on April 29, commencement on
April 30 and a separate name-reading cer-
emony as well. The School of Nursing is film-
ing their graduates walking and receiving a di-
ploma in person, and then streaming the video
during their virtual commencement.
The University’s LSA Program in Biology,
the umbrella branch that my Ecology and Evo-
lutionary Biology major falls under, asked their
graduates for pictures and contributions to be
compiled into a short video. It’s not much, but
there are ways to personalize the graduation
experience without a live commencement.
But I have a clear bias. I’ll be attending
medical school in July, and that feels like a
bigger cause for celebration than my under-
graduate graduation. I’ve already equated my
white coat ceremony, which marks the start of
a medical career, as my pseudo undergraduate
graduation. Close one chapter, start another. In
my mind, it kills two birds with one stone.
However, not everyone is planning on
more school immediately after graduation, or
at all. For many, this Winter 2021 commence-
ment can symbolize the end of being a student,
at least for a while. While some are excited
about the prospect of a job, others feel differ-
ently.
“Once you’re done with school, you lose
structure,” Li told me. “I’d rather have that
school stress and know that college is happen-
ing. In that sense, I don’t want to graduate.”
I’ve found that the disappointment of grad-
uating seniors may not surround the physical
commencement, but rather a sense of lost op-
portunities and experiences. How do we find
ways to celebrate graduation so we actually feel
like we’re graduating?
Closure in an unusual Ann Arbor
Graduation often implies a sense of closure.
Graduates want a chance to see their friends,
visit their favorite bars one last time, round out
their summer with a trip around the world. I
know I do.
I think of closure as a well-rounded end-
ing, a way to mark the end of a life chapter.
Without it, leaving your college town, a home
away from home, can seem abrupt and sudden.
Completing our last classes, saying goodbyes to
friends and experiencing our last moments in
Ann Arbor are all ways that we create endings
for ourselves.
For the class of 2021, finding closure in
Ann Arbor is less celebratory than usual. Most
undergraduate classes have been taught on-
line this winter. Most graduating seniors’ last
class will be over Zoom, a weak substitute for
a bustling lecture hall. Michigan restaurants
and bars must operate at 50% capacity for in-
door dining and close before 11 p.m., per Gov.
Whitmer’s March 5 executive order. For those
comfortable venturing out, it won’t be quite
the bar-hopping adventure we expected. And
many seniors may not feel safe doing this at all
— the Centers for Disease Control and Preven-
tion still defines indoor dining as a high-risk
activity.
“The real thing I’m disappointed about is
that the pandemic affected our senior year,” Li
told me.
Li was upset that he wouldn’t be able to
celebrate his last weeks in Ann Arbor with his
friends.
“We want to do some fun things we haven’t
done before, but it’s hard with all these rules
and restrictions. It feels like everything is
closed or closes early,” Li said.
Rachel Quigley, a School of Nursing senior,
agreed with Li.
“I’m sad that I’m missing out on a normal
commencement, going to bars and just doing
stuff that seniors do,” Quigley said in a Zoom
interview. “It’s not the same and it makes me
feel like we got cheated out of a huge part of
our lives.”
We often hear that our college years are the
best of our lives. In this light, Quigley’s feeling
of being “cheated out” of a significant experi-
ence makes sense, especially at the University
of Michigan. The dominant narrative about the
University is one of pride and school spirit. In
my early years of college, upperclassmen often
told me that Ann Arbor was a “magical” city. I
vividly remember taking a late-night Uber two
years ago with a close friend who at the time
was set to graduate in a month.
“Enjoy every minute of it,” she told me.
“The years will fly by before you know it.”
Yet, Ann Arbor rarely felt magical for me.
I struggled to find a community in such a large
student body my first two years of college.
Once I felt like I’d finally found my place at the
University, the pandemic hit and classes went
online soon after. I had less than a year of liv-
ing in an Ann Arbor I loved and enjoyed before
everything looked different. I do love this little
town, but I’m also ready to move on and start
fresh in a different part of the world.
I’ve always found it hard to establish myself
in a city that I’ll eventually leave. I know the
next few years of my life will be spent moving
from city to city, never quite settling down in
one place before moving on to the next. Ann
Arbor sometimes felt transitory for me, a tem-
porary place to live before I moved somewhere
else. When the city’s landscape changed with
closures and restrictions, it made it even harder
to solidify any connection I had before I gradu-
ated.
For some graduates, a changed Ann Arbor
can be disappointing. But others disagree. Min-
nis told me that she’d always had to keep a job
in college to pay bills. Ann Arbor doesn’t look
very different for her.
“Ann Arbor is the same for me. I go to
school during the week and go to my job on the
weekend,” Minnis said.
Creating a satisfactory ending in Ann Ar-
bor is difficult enough for the class of 2021, but
closure isn’t always synonymous with a geo-
graphical location.
Samantha Kao graduated from the School
of Music, Theatre & Dance in Fall 2020 with
a degree in multidisciplinary studies and a
concentration in piano. Kao was disappointed
with the University’s fall graduation activities,
which consisted of videos and social media
posts.
“It felt very anticlimactic,” Kao told me
over Zoom. “I had a cocktail of feelings. I felt
scared, disappointed, left out.”
Kao expressed frustration with SMTD’s
response to the pandemic last summer. She
wasn’t able to access the School of Music build-
ing or its practice rooms until late August. In-
sistent on doing a senior recital, Kao managed
to get an electric keyboard from one of her
friends and do a video recording of her perfor-
mance. But compared to a live piano recital, a
recording on an electric keyboard was a poor
substitute.
“I had all these plans to fulfill and round out
my music career … and it just didn’t happen,”
Kao said.
Kao’s sense of closure came less from Ann
Arbor and more from a sense of lost musical
opportunities, a problem that many music and
art graduates are facing across the country.
Kao has since been taking a break from
school and searching for jobs. After suffering
from severe tendonitis that affected her piano
playing, she isn’t sure where to turn next. For
Kao, an atypical graduation celebration felt like
adding insult to injury.
“I felt like it wasn’t much (for others), but
for me, it was a lot,” Kao said.
Downplaying achievements
The U.S. has suffered over 500,000 deaths
from the COVID-19 pandemic. The state of
Michigan has a death toll of over 17,000. In this
climate, celebrating anything can seem cruel
and out of touch. I feel the need to keep my
celebrations private and mellow. Eating a meal
outside, spending time with my family, saying
my goodbyes to Ann Arbor — that feels like the
type of celebration I deserve.
At the same time, graduating from the
University of Michigan does feel like a large
accomplishment. As one of the country’s top
public schools with a 23% acceptance rate,
graduating from this university is something
to be proud of. Growing up in Metro Detroit,
the University was often branded as the school
to attend, so much so that I barely thought
twice before accepting my admissions offer. It
seemed like the natural thing to do.
Graduating in the middle of a pandemic
means reconciling your achievements with the
current social climate. Celebrate, but not too
much. Keep your celebrations private, but still
enjoy your time with close family and friends.
Don’t rub salt in the wounds of those suffering.
This mind game can be exhausting for gradu-
ating seniors who feel like they deserve more
recognition.
After graduating, Kao struggled with this
same feeling. Kao managed to graduate a se-
mester early after changing her major a few
times. She told me that she was dealing with
personal issues at the time but still worked
hard to keep her grades up and save on an ex-
tra semester of tuition. Instead of a celebration,
she turned to a search for jobs, which seemed
like an abrupt end to her school years.
“I was really proud of myself but felt like I
didn’t have a way to celebrate that,” Kao said.
“The most celebratory thing I did was I got a
tiramisu from Costco and ate it with my room-
mates.”
This feeling of invisibility is common for
those graduating during a global crisis. Mi-
chelle Obama addressed this in her virtual
commencement speech to 2020 graduates last
year.
“For those of you who feel invisible: Please
know that your story matters. Your ideas mat-
ter. Your experiences matter. Your vision for
what our world can and should be matters,”
Obama said.
Gaby Aguirre, an international student
from Ecuador graduating from the Business
School in May, understands this sentiment.
However, Aguirre is trying her best to stay
positive and appreciate her accomplishments
in her own way.
“It has been my dream to graduate from a
U.S. college since I was in high school,” Aguirre
told me over Zoom. “Just the idea of being able
to go outside and take my pictures with a cap
and gown from the University of Michigan is
enough for me.”
After four years, Aguirre still finds it hard
to believe that she is attending a U.S. univer-
sity and one of the top business schools in the
country. Aguirre’s parents worked hard to get
her where she is today, and her family plans on
flying to Michigan in a few weeks to celebrate
together. Aguirre is grateful for that.
“(International students) don’t take gradu-
ation from a U.S. college as granted,” Aguirre
said. “Sometimes when I talk to classmates, I
wish they would appreciate it better.”
Aguirre insists that there are ways to cel-
ebrate graduation this year without disregard-
ing one’sachievements. She points to social
media as a way to spread the news and boost
confidence for graduates.
“Of course it would be more emotional to
go in and walk and be there,” Aguirre said. “But
it’s still a huge achievement for all of us. So I
think I’m just happy and excited.”
Celebrations in a pandemic
We may have a mostly virtual commence-
ment, but that isn’t stopping us from celebrat-
ing graduation.
Several students I spoke to had made ar-
rangements for family day trips to Ann Arbor
to celebrate on a smaller scale. Ann Arbor res-
taurants are already filling their reservations
for graduation weekend. Popular Italian joint
Mani Osteria has opened a waitlist for outdoor
seating, The Earle has created a special menu
for celebrating families, and reservations at
Asian restaurant Pacific Rim are going fast.
Aguirre looks forward to celebrating her
achievement with her family. She doesn’t mind
that her celebration will be more intimate
without the crowd at the Big House.
“If you want the real feeling of making
someone proud, you can just look at your par-
ents’ eyes. And that’s it, you know?” Aguirre
said.
Aguirre’s family plans to watch the vir-
tual commencement in their hotel room while
Aguirre views it at the Big House. Afterward,
they’ll leave for a road trip around Michigan.
Aguirre looks forward to celebrating with a
mini-vacation while still following COVID
safety protocols.
“They’re making my graduation an excuse
to travel,” Aguirre told me with a laugh.
Other seniors are trying their hand at small
gatherings with just their close friends and
family. Quigley plans to throw a small cer-
emony at her house in Ann Arbor, as all her
roommates and their families are vaccinated
already.
“We’re going to have food catered to our
house and have our own mini graduation,”
Quigley said. “We’re all going to give a speech
too.”
Kao is also waiting until her friends get
vaccinated to hold her outdoor graduation cel-
ebration.
“I’m super close to feeling comfortable be-
ing around more people than my bubble,” Kao
told me. “I think that would be the closure that
I would have wanted.”
Regardless of celebrations, nearly everyone
I spoke to wanted to soak in the city of Ann
Arbor before they moved out. Many students
took advantage of remote learning as a chance
to leave their apartment and explore different
parts of Michigan as well.
“It opened the door for me to do different
activities that I don’t normally do,” Aguirre
said. “We’ll drive up to Port Huron, or play
sand volleyball in Elbel field, or go study in a
coffee shop. In my four years, I had never gone
to a coffee shop to study.”
I’ve been trying to do the same. I go for a
hike in Ann Arbor’s parks a couple of times a
week, usually in the middle of a workday to
avoid the crowd. I stash my phone deep in my
drawstring bag and hike in silence through
Barton Nature Center, Bird Hills Nature Area,
remote parts of Nichols Arboretum. It feels like
closure for me — a way to say a private, silent
goodbye to the city I’ve called home the last
four years.
I’ll be leaving my Ann Arbor studio apart-
ment at the end of April to make space for my
summer subletter. Two weeks before com-
mencement, my parents have asked me if I
have a plan for graduation at least five times.
Truthfully, I still don’t know. If this year has
taught me anything, agendas and itineraries
are meaningless. I’m tired of making them.
At the end of the day, I have no idea how
to feel about graduating during such an uncon-
ventional year. But I’m okay with waiting until
May 1 to find out. For now, I think I’ll go where
the wind takes me, drift in this city until I no
longer can. Breathe it in before packing up for
my next adventure.
Another year, another pandemic graduation
BY TRINA PAL, STATEMENT CONTRIBUTOR
ILLUSTRATION BY KATHERINE LEE