Graduates please note: It’s not about you

By DANIEL RUBIN

It’s that time of year when the nation’s boldfaced names are scouring Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations in preparation for the lucrative, bromide-rich tradition known as the commencement speech.

Colleges like to select someone famous to deliver the capstone talk, ideally something smart, upbeat and short.

Students like to carp about the choice.

True to form, Bryn Mawr students groused last month about their college’s selection of Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter.

“Why don’t you get someone cool?” one student asked in the campus newspaper. “Like Ellen” DeGeneres.

Another senior couldn’t place Nutter’s name. “Was he involved in some sort of scandal on homosexuality?” she wondered.

No.

Temple University students are going out guns blazing. Editors of the campus newspaper last week railed against the university’s choice. Which was particularly brassy, seeing as the speaker is Temple’s own president.

“As a thank-you for the money we’ve spent on tuition, housing, meal plans, books, and various other college accessories, the university is rewarding us with a highlighted speaker — President Ann Weaver Hart,” the editors vented.

Not worth the $100 for cap, gown and graduation fee, they grumbled.

Better choices?

Whom would the editors prefer? Some famous alums — comedian Bob Saget, singers Daryl Hall and John Oates.

I don’t think these kids get it. Commencement speeches are supposed to be brutally dull. These speeches are not for you. They’re for your funders, the folks sitting somewhere nearby, wondering what they’re going to do with you now that college is over, especially now that you’ve asked if you can have your old room back.

It’s unlikely you will remember anything about the speech.

It’s likely you will be deeply hung over. And so worried about what comes next that you are unable to process much of what’s happening. You’ll sit there knowing that the moment you flip that tassel from one side of your mortarboard to the other, the meter starts running. It’s all on you now.

Graduation is called commencement for a reason. And this year has to be the most frightening time to be starting out in the real world.

A little Emerson

Thirty-one years out, here’s what I remember about my own graduation. Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr., the eminent historian, spoke. He started with a little Emerson.

I have no idea where he went from there.

Admittedly, this was decades ago. Some memories from that weekend are still clear. Such as my grandmother.

It was broiling that June in Chicago, and the whole family was tired of riding in my un-air-conditioned Pontiac LeMans. We were taking turns showering in the hotel. Nana ran from one room to the other in a nightgown that happened to be perfectly backlit, providing a visual that will stick with me until death.

Generously proportioned, Nana paused in mid-streak and observed: “Just like a Playboy bunny. You might see better, but you’ll never see more.”

I tried to reach President Hart for a preview of her commencement speech. I wanted to ask what she remembered about her own 1970 graduation from the University of Utah.

She wasn’t available. I’m sure she’s polishing her speech.

Even if she turns out not to speak so inspirationally, the president will leave graduates with something useful.

Recognizing that they’re entering the worst job market in decades, President Hart has decided to open the university’s Career Services office for a couple of hours on graduation day. That’s memorable.

X Daniel Rubin is a columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Information Services.