Circumstance. Not So Much With the Pomp.

I was the faculty representative of the Young Unpaid Person at a graduation last week. We lined up for the procession by order of tenure, which meant I marched into the auditorium eighteen miles behind the university president and slightly ahead of the guy in charge of unstacking the folding chairs. Trailing behind me were the only people more loathed by a college administration than adjuncts: The ROTC representatives. Which was awesome, because then I got to go around telling everybody that I entered the procession under military guard.

In addition to underwear, I wore a robe with long pointy sleeves dangling off the ends, a privilege of the Master’s degree. The sleeves are closed off at the ends, which, once you figure out the hard way that your hands are not, in fact, supposed to go in there, you can use to carry your sunglasses and your car keys and your flask. So, the MFA: Twenty grand well-spent.

I was also dressed in a Master’s hood, which is a ceremonial piece of academic regalia that formerly celebrated scholarship by sitting in a wad on the floor of a closet in my parents’ basement. You should have seen me, all hoody. I was very dignified; it is impossible not to be dignified while wearing what, on first glance, appears to be a necklace constructed of fuzzy baby poop.

The scholastic fugly is very upsetting. An MFA is essentially useless to society; our hood color should be something equally unnecessary for life on Earth, such as prismy sparkles, or Trump Hair Orange. The accountants wear a color described in the graduation program as “drab”, so somewhere along the line somebody clearly put some thought matching color assignment with quantity of career excitement. Although… library science is bright yellow. Directing Lexis-Nexis searches! WILD!

Sage green: The hue of hygiene at blondechampagne@hotmail.com