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

