The Graduation Glut: Why Less is More
Rethinking the Overabundance of Graduation Ceremonies in Modern Culture
Graduation day—a momentous occasion for many, a rite of passage marking the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Or so we’re led to believe. But what happens when this milestone loses its meaning, becoming just another routine event in a series of many?
I remember my own high school graduation vividly. Well, not the ceremony itself—I didn't want to attend that. The party afterward? I didn’t necessarily enjoy it, but I got through it because it was a payday of sorts. I had to smile and play along, motivated by the cash I’d receive from relatives and friends.
High School Graduation: A Personal Tale
At Ocean Township High School, I was in the top 20% of my class, but that accolade felt hollow. I was, in reality, a terrible student. Cutting class was almost a sport to me. I meticulously tracked the days I could miss, exploiting the 20-day truancy threshold to its limit. Forging my mother’s signature on notes to the office, calling in my absences—I had the system down to a science. My senior year was more about escaping school than attending it. Mornings at the beach, afternoons at the mall—anywhere but school.
Looking back, I was a loner, a 1%’er without many friends. The few connections I valued were with a couple of teachers and the substance abuse counselor who also coached cheerleading. I was infatuated with her, hanging out in her office, dreaming about more than just our conversations about drugs.
By the time senior year rolled around, my disinterest in school was at its peak. I flunked my English and Spanish finals simply because I didn’t care enough to put in the effort. Despite this, I had been accepted to a challenging university with a decent scholarship—a story for another time. My job in retail was my pride. I worked 20 hours a week and took immense satisfaction in my work, far more than anything I felt in school. Recognition at work meant something; school did not.
When graduation approached, the thought of sitting through a ceremony felt unbearable. The party was fine—I didn’t mind that. It was a payday of sorts, a tactical event where I’d collect enough cash to get through the summer. But the ceremony? That was just a pointless ritual. I fought hard against attending, but my mother didn’t relent. I had to go, despite my protests.
The lack of connection to my school, my peers, and the entire high school experience made the ceremony feel meaningless. Afterward, in the chaos of 200 students trying to find their families, I struggled to locate my mother. She thought I had sabotaged the moment, but really, it was just the chaos of the event—though I can’t deny I might have half-heartedly contributed to it.
School, for me, was just a vehicle to get to college, then a career, and eventually retirement. It wasn’t until my sophomore year in college that learning became enjoyable. Subjects like philosophy, law, anthropology, and history started to intrigue me. I went from Bs and Cs in high school to As in college because I finally found value in learning.
I didn’t attend my college graduation either. The only ceremony I participated in was for my master’s degree, but even then, I was estranged from my parents. My future ex-wife was my sole supporter there, and we inspired each other to reach higher.
So, what accomplishments do I take pride in? Promotions, my first real job offer at KPMG, making manager in public accounting, and earning my CPA license. These were milestones earned through blood, sweat, and tears. They mattered to me in a way high school graduation never did.
The Graduation Glut
Fast forward to today, and I cringe around graduation season. My niece graduated near the top of her class and is off to a good private school on a scholarship. When congratulating her, I caught myself saying, “Tell us when you actually achieve something one day.” It sounds harsh, but high school graduation, even at the top of your class, isn’t necessarily an achievement. For kids with a genetic legacy of multiple Gen X master’s degree holders, it’s almost expected.
Now, we have pre-K graduations, kindergarten graduations, elementary, middle school, high school—more ceremonies than Catholic sacraments. And I think sacraments are harder to earn than a B+ in AP English. Confirmation might be more challenging than high school these days.
So, can we turn down the volume on graduations? Can parents be honest with themselves and recognize that these ceremonies are more for them than their kids? We should encourage our children to aim higher and value true greatness. Celebrate when they read a book out of interest, research a passion project, or earn their first paycheck. When my son gets his first paycheck, we’re going to River Palm Terrace in Edgewater, NJ to celebrate. I’m paying, not him.