Graduations, March 15, and My Second-Ever Flight to Boston

I’ve never had the best memory. 

Though I can’t recall the color of my first bicycle or where I was on my 13th birthday, certain memories seem to take up permanent residence in my brain, and in the fabric of my being: graduations, March 15, 2020, and my second-ever flight to Boston. 

I was 7 when I attended my first graduation—my little brother’s Kindergarten ceremony. For some reason, I can remember it like it was yesterday. If I close my eyes and listen, I can hear the soft, innocent singing of Michael Jackson’s “Man in the Mirror,” can see his bright white robe and the tiny blue tassel on the top of his head. Even then, when all that was commenced was the completion of the ABCs and 123s, I found inexplicable joy in celebrating a job well done. 

When I was 16, both my parents completed their college degrees and had separate graduation ceremonies just months apart. Though I’ve only seen my father cry a handful of times, I took notice of the tears welling up in his eyes as he walked across the stage, something he always promised us he would do. I cried like a baby throughout his entire ceremony. When my mom, who spent every waking day sacrificing for 4 young children, was pinned at her nursing ceremony, I watched a never-before-seen sense of pride wash over her. For the first time in my naive innocence, I saw her not just as the woman who raised me, but as a person with dreams and ambition of her own. I never felt like I knew my mother more than I did on that day. At just 16, I recognized how much more graduation meant than just receiving a degree. 

In hindsight, I like to believe my appreciation of graduation is not a mere coincidence, but an inherent product of millions of commencements before me. 

The tradition of graduation can be dated back to the Middle Ages and, even then, it was meant to signify much more than an educational milestone. The word “commencement” originates from the Latin word “inceptio,” meaning “new beginning.” 

Since the very start of its existence, the simple act of putting on a robe and walking across a stage has transcended the act of receiving a diploma—it is a symbol of coming-of-age. Students who attend their graduations are actually proven to have a higher sense of self-worth, better grasp on the meaning of life, and a smoother transition from one period of their life to another. 

But what happens if that seemingly simple ceremony is taken away? 

On March 15, 2020, myself— and 3.7 million other high school seniors— would begin to find out. 

On that morning, I was 17 years old, excited butterflies constantly fluttering amidst my belly— reminders of impending prom, finals, decision day, graduation, and moving away to Boston from my home of Miami, Florida. Thinking back, I can almost feel a few still flutter, perhaps unaware of the way things really turned out. 

As I laid my head to rest that Sunday night, my whole world seemed to hang in the balance— a school-wide email had just announced the COVID-19 lockdown and its impacts on our “premature spring break.” Deep down, my gut told me the pandemic would mean much more than just a few weeks off from school. 

What I did not know then, however, was that the supposed weeks-long lockdown would last into the summer of that year, taking away each and every of the rites of passage the senior class had earned. 

For myself and so many others, the pandemic marked an end to many's visions of saying a formal goodbye to peers, teachers, family, hometowns, and even childhood. 

Though many were quick to dismiss seemingly superficial formalities, our class—dubbed “Generation COVID”— undoubtedly experienced a disruption in identity formation. Studies show the sudden switch to online learning, isolation from peers and mentors, influx of stressors, and loss of control regarding the future had  deep-rooted psychological effects on coming-of-age that will inevitably follow us “COVID seniors” into adulthood. 

And now, four years later, these same seniors are now preparing to finish our time at college—and partake in that same centuries-old ritual that was taken from us in 2020. 

For myself, this is an almost unfathomable fact. Four years ago from now, I graduated high school on a Zoom call from my living room. In just a few months, I will walk across a stage for the first time in my life—and mark the end to a chapter I’ve barely been able to process has begun. 

On my second-ever flight to Boston, with my entire life packed away in the overhead bin, I burst out into sobs. I had known for four years my dream was to attend Emerson and move away from home, but as the pilot announced we were beginning our take-off from Miami, I could not shake one thought: “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” With only three hours until my new life begun, I shoved the feeling into my over-packed baggage and into a drawer in my new LB dorm room. Now, with mere months until life as I know it ends once more, I am ready to unpack it—and I’m not alone.

Camilo Fonseca, Olivia Weiss, and Devin Turcotte are just three of the 1,000+ Emerson seniors who are preparing to graduate on May 12, 2024—each with their own experiences as COVID seniors.

"We had all our senior prom and graduation festivities canceled, along with all the extracurricular competitions and parties that traditionally accompany senior year," Camilo Fonseca said.

"[I had a] drive through graduation. It wasn’t a full closure. I didn’t feel like I got a proper goodbye," Olivia Weiss said. "I feel like I'm moving onto a different stage of my life and I feel like it will close very smoothly and beautifully, as opposed to graduating high school."

"I basically got robbed of everything that I had been looking forward to. I lacked a prom, quality time with my friends, in-person learning, and a structured routine and schedule," Devin Turcotte said. "I am so excited to finally be able to have something that I have been yearning for for a while now. I am ready to go all out and get something that I was robbed of."

Leading up to our commencement ceremony, we will uncover the many intricacies of the pandemic’s impact on coming-of-age, working to answer several key questions. 

Who were they then, and who are they now? In what ways did lockdown alter who they would have become? 

And finally, is graduation as important as we make it out to be, or does it mean even more than we realize?