News:

I AM OFFICIALLY DONE WITH GRAD SCHOOL.

Friends... acquaintances... strangers who read my blog (like the ones in Beverly Hills-- why do so many people in Beverly Hills read my blog?? Delurk, Beverly Hills, delurk!)... random Googlers who find themselves here inexplicably and with great dismay: this is a big deal.

It means: I am done with school forever!




... Until I decide I want my Masters in English. Or a degree in Family Counseling. Or to be Nationally Board Certified.

Also, until I start inservice at my teaching job on Monday. Because then, obviously, I will be back in school.

But still: the hellish days of research papers and online discussion forums and ripping-my-hair-out-because-I-forgot-another-assignment are OVER!!! I have a Masters degree! I do, I do!




... At least, I will, once I officially pass my classes and get the fancy bit of paper in the mail.

What is the point of qualifiers?? I scorn qualifiers. I spit upon qualifiers. I AM DONE WITH GRAD SCHOOL AND I HAVE A MASTERS DEGREE.

AND THAT IS MY NEWS.

This afternoon, I celebrated with some shopping. I bought tights and a skirt and a sweater: very practical teacher back-to-school clothes (which could also be confused as done-with-school clothes). I also tried on a romper. All summer long I have wanted a romper. I found a great romper, on sale, in my size, and the short parts were even teal. I love teal. I once convinced my high-school graduating class to order our graduation announcements in teal, which everyone later hated, but by then they had forgotten I was the one to convince them, and I felt secretly overjoyed and wicked. But I did not buy the romper, because it was impractical for school.

But it's pajama time now, and what I really wish I had is a romper.

And so even though I am done with grad school and have a fancy advanced degree, I am weeping uncontrollably in a heap under my covers for want of a romper.

Not really.

I'm still super pumped. :)

Let Us Now Examine the Graduation Robe

Without question the most universally unflattering get-up in all the earth.


First, let us address the innumerable distresses of the mortar board.


A dreadful chapeau. The long cap over the forehead, the flat square of polyester-covered cardboard on the top... Grievous features!! And how is one supposed to wear one's hair? If one pulls it out to achieve a look of fullness, it looks ridiculous.


If one tucks her hair behind her ears, she has accomplished the optical illusion of a remarkably shrunken cranium, taken down in size by 200%! Perhaps 300%!


This effect is perhaps more accurately known as "guinea-fowl head."


And then there is the tassel, which never fails to repeatedly hit the face.


Does this truly convey an appearance of higher intelligence?


I think not.


But graduation robes for a MASTERS degree candidate come with their own set of special idiosyncrasies. Will the audience please direct their attention to the baffling sleeve apparatuses?


What are these long bits at the end? Are these pockets for storage? Are they intended as oven mitts? Am I supposed to decorate the ends and use them as hand-puppets? Were the robe designers concerned that their Masters candidates would need polyester mittens in June?



Maybe they're trying to encourage us to try to fly with our advanced knowledge.


Also there is the "hood"-- the focal point of a Masters robe. Unfortunately the hood is such a bizarrely shaped piece of fabric that it is almost impossible to ascertain its proper wear. Good thing they provide instructions.

"Make sure to tie the hood to some part of your outfit underneath your robe so that it doesn't choke you all the time."


One wonders how they conjectured it. What inspired tailor decreed that THIS-- a shapeless robe! A preposterous hat! A swath of colorful and confounding fabric! A dangling TASSEL!-- would be the attire best befitting a graduated scholar? What feverish minds, stumbling out the library after finals, first voluntarily slumped into these hideous trappings and thereby established the robes as "traditional garb"? Who decreed that the best way to honor long hours of study, sleepless nights of paper-writing, exhausting and exhaustive projects, and synapses frayed by ceaseless stress-- was with THIS?

And why does the combination yet provoke some excitement-- some feeling of very real accomplishment-- from its bemused wearer?

Today is graduation day, friends. It is graduation day, even though I still have to take class all summer, and even though I still have to find a job, and even though the black polyester sleeve flaps don't-- woe-- work as wings.

It is graduation day: a day for celebrating--a day for pomp. A day for circumstance. A day for pompish circumstantial flying. :)


What gorgeous feathers, have I!