Emily Yang (11) | STAFF REPORTER
I’ve always had something more to do. Another thing, goal, task, place to be. I’ve always known what the next step would be. So you’d understand when I say I’m feeling lost beyond return right about now. My college graduation was three days ago. I was supposed to have some corporate job lined up for me the second I flipped the tassel to the other side. I’ll never forget how I felt at that moment, standing on the stage.
It was a sunny day, mid-spring. There I was, standing in line with all the other grad school graduates. Families were gathering on the lawn, settling into the rows of white chairs spread out just for them. I peered out into the crowd, trying to locate my parents. They were sitting in the third row. My mother looked as if she was already tearing up, at which I was not at all surprised. My father was sitting unbelievably straight in his chair, his figure had an air of indifference.
Typical, I thought. Though I wasn’t going to let him get to me.
The audience was significantly smaller than that of my last graduation, as was expected. The group of graduates was around a quarter of the undergrads. Everyone in line with me was looking and talking to each other with expressions of complete patronage. It was incredulous to watch. They were acting as if they were each superior to those around them, their peers who were literally on the verge of receiving the same degree!
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The ceremony concluded with yet another speech given by the dean, congratulating us all once again. The students then diffused into the crowd to meet their parents, each receiving endless hugs, kisses, and bouquets of flowers. I waited until the very last minute to start making my way over to my family. My mother met me halfway there, bombarding me with affirmations of her pride and love. I actually felt warm and fuzzy inside for about a second, until I remembered the whole situation. She grabbed someone and asked if they would take a photo of the three of us, me standing in the middle with my diploma and all my newly-grad pride and glory. Standing there and smiling with my parents on either side of me made me slightly nauseous. My mom went to retrieve her camera and look over the photos, leaving me alone with my dad. He stood in front of me looking taller than he usually did.
“I’m proud of you, Emma. It is an honour to call my daughter a Yale MBA graduate,” he said to me with a tone of self-satisfaction.
“Thanks dad,” I replied meekly.
