Opinion: Commencement is expensive and impersonal. Spend your time doing something you enjoy instead. 

We’ve just about done it. We’ve passed through the gauntlet of higher education and stand at the cusp of graduation. We struggled through long, difficult terms of remote education, the agony of asynchronous classes and the disappointment of canceled study abroad trips. We reveled in pressing submit on term papers and final projects. We meticulously organized our schedules to register for the same classes as our friends. Now, all that’s left is to celebrate our achievement, and I can’t think of any way I’d like to celebrate less than attending the university’s official commencement ceremony.

What is commencement? It’s an hours-long ceremony at which you don a silly hat with a tassel and one-time-use gown. You are submerged in a sea of thousands of identically dressed strangers. Elevated at the front of the crowd are the ritual’s leaders. You may recognize their names, but they wouldn’t recognize yours. They make speeches about all you (in the general sense –– not you personally) have accomplished. Then, for a fleeting moment, your individuality returns. A disembodied voice reads your name over the speakers while some big wig shakes your hand. You then melt back into the sea of gowns and silly hats to wait for the ceremony’s end before you can go celebrate with your loved ones.

This year’s keynote speaker will be two-time Olympic champion decathlete and 2010 UO graduate Ashton Eaton. While his achievements are remarkable, I didn’t know his name before I read the Around the O article about commencement, and he certainly knows nothing about me. I’m sure he has plenty of wisdom to bestow about the importance of sticktoitiveness, but that sort of general, one-size-fits-all advice pales in comparison to the council of a close friend.

In addition to being lengthy and impersonal, the commencement ritual comes at a high monetary price. The Duck Store sells various graduation packages, the cheapest of which rings in at just under $100 and garners the buyer their very own one-time-use gown, a silly cap with a tassel, a “free” membership to the UO Alumni association and a “free” $20 gift card to the Duck Store. Alternatively, thrifty graduates can forgo the package and buy only the cap, gown and tassel for the combined low, low price of $84.97.

Of course, maybe you’ve thought long and hard about it and decided you really want to go to commencement. Maybe it’s important to your family to see you walk. Maybe you have a burning desire to hear your voice over the speaker system at Autzen. Whatever your reason, if you really want to go to commencement, I’m not here to convince you to do otherwise. 

But if you fall into the camp that was going to attend commencement because “that’s just what you do,” I’m here to tell you there is another way.

That’s right. You need no permission but your own to dispense of the silly hats and gowns. You have the freedom to reject the tradition of standing on ceremony. No impersonal formality can compare to the joy of spending time with friends and loved ones. Rather than spend the length of the ceremony anxiously awaiting the moment you’ll finally be released to celebrate on your own terms, why not have a commencement of your own with only a select crew. You could organize a potluck brunch in the park for your family to meet those of your friends. You could take in Eugene’s natural beauty on one last hike and recall challenges you’ve surmounted in your personal and academic life over the past few years. You could organize a tour around campus and revisit memories with your friends. The options are as limitless and unique as yourself.

Whatever you do, be sure to take the time to reflect on the challenges and triumphs you’ve experienced in college. Linger on memories that make you feel grateful, and express that gratitude to the people you shared those moments with. If you plan to leave Eugene shortly after graduation, take photos of places and people connected to memories you want to hold on to. Whatever you do, celebrate in a way that’s sincerely meaningful to you, not just the way the school intended you to.