Twenty-five years ago today, I graduated college.
I remember my graduation day not being as great as I expected. The traditional outdoor commencement ceremony at my college was legendary, but for the Class of 2000, the pouring rain forced our pomp and circumstance indoors for the first time in nearly a hundred years.
My school was also known for securing the best commencement speakers — all-stars like Christoper Reeve soon after his accident, and James Earl Jones who ended his speech by telling the new grads, “May the Force be With You.” Our commencement speaker? Some schlub from Washington who recently showed up on the Epstein list.
It was a less than ideal graduation day to me. But perhaps the excessive buildup made the actual event underwhelming. Being part of the historic Class of 2000 had been promoted to students across the globe as the milestone of the millennium. We were the first grads of the 21st century, and we were — so they told us — destined for greatness.
But looking back, we Xennials didn’t have it so great. We were thrown into a wild era filled with job insecurity, higher debt, increased societal problems, and 9/11. Twenty five years later, the cynic in me watches incompetence, technology, and AI rule the world, and sometimes wonders if my degrees were even worth it.
But then I remember the high notes of my Y2K graduation. How I proudly was the very first woman on either side of my immediate family to graduate college. How my roommate and I jumped out of our seats when our favorite professor was named “Teacher of the Year” thanks to all the classmates we harassed to nominate him. How my Mom threw me the most beautiful graduation party that she spent months planning because she was so proud. Maybe my graduation day wasn’t perfect, but it was still an incredibly special moment in time.
The older I get and the more I experience, the more I realize that life is made up of seasons. I consider my childhood as one season, adolescence as another, and so on. In a way, we graduate from each season as we grow and change. I’ve lived many seasons since I was that 22-year-old new grad listening to Santana on my Walkman while over-plucking my eyebrows. As seasons change, they also change what defines us. The world and I have both changed a lot since the year 2000, but some comforting constants have stayed the same. I think it’s up to us — those who grew up on the cusp of tradition and change — to embrace the new while also honoring the old.
In the 25 years since earning my first degree, I’ve also learned a lot about what defines success. It isn’t what’s on your resume or what kind of car you drive, but the people in your life who matter. I’ve realized that degrees don’t guarantee bigger paychecks, but education is still priceless. I’ve learned that progress is amazing, but never let a bot craft what my journalism professors taught me how to craft myself. I know that screens are necessary, but logging off is still invaluable for anyone of any age. Most importantly, these 25 years have taught me that we don’t know how little we know until we’re in our next season.
Twenty-five years has brought me many seasons. There’s been some rain, but a lot of sunshine. And I’m ready and excited for all of the seasons to come.
What Lara Wrote 