Based on all of my exposure to Oxford thus far, I knew that graduation would be a venerable tradition, likely full of Latin, and likely involving lots of ridiculous robes and "smart" dress and other finery. Correct on all of those counts -- and how different it was compared to Stanford, where I graduated not once but twice over the last two years, with its irreverent attitude and casual vibe and wacky walk and packed stadiums and full commencement week events. (I sometimes think the two places could not be MORE different.) We had a wave of California-like weather the week of graduation, and the UK heated up to around 80-85F, which doesn't sound too hot until you consider that 1) I have become weak and my heat tolerance has plummeted, meaning that anything above 75F feels scorching, and 2) there is no air conditioning here in all these old buildings. The Sheldonian theater, the nice old theater used for graduation and matriculation and other events of general university pomp and circumstance, quickly heated up, especially near the ramped seats up top where all the spectators had to sit to watch the degree candidates and Oxford administrators down below. My own family was able to watch and share in the graduation festivities with me, since they'd arrived the day before from the States and begun to get over jetlag. (Jetlag remedy day #1 included a visit to Blenheim Palace, complete with picnic, and the first of many pub nights with fish and chips and cider, since none of us like the British beer.)
Anyway, on to graduation itself. After a nice lunch at St. John's, I parted ways with my family and went with the other degree candidates to the Sheldonian, where we took seats inside on the ground level of the theater. Then the vice chancellor of Oxford came in and started the ceremony -- yes, I'd been primed on this beforehand and told what to do, for reasons you'll understand in a bit. He said a few general congratulatory remarks in English, nothing like the long commencement addresses you'll find at American universities and also nothing as specific as the remarks my own department head gave at the degree ceremony the last times I graduated, and then proceeded to explain that the rest of the graduation ceremony would be in Latin. Why, you ask? Because tradition. Because the solemnity that is due to recipients of this lofty academic honor. Because Oxford. So, we began.
My interpreter had just about the best job after the English remarks ended -- for the remaining hour or so, the vice chancellor and other deans said some things in Latin, meaning she just had to sign to me, Latin. More Latin. Still speaking Latin. Etc. They called up each group of graduating students (based on degree category: DPhil, MPhil, MSc, MSt, B.A.) and had the deans of each college present the students formally to the heads of the university. This meant we had to stand up, hold hands with our college deans, and bow deeply to the vice chancellor in the middle, then bow again to a dean on the left, then again to another dean on the right. After all this bowing, we were called up closer -- without our college deans this time -- and then we did yet more bowing. After this, we all filed out of the theater to the Divinity Schools, a wing of the Bodleian Library behind the Sheldonian, to put on our formal graduation robes and hoods. (During the first part of the ceremony we'd just worn college gowns and sub fusc, meaning the white shirt/black skirt or trousers dress code that is required to accompany gowns for formal occasions like this one.) Then we filed back into the theater, in tidy rows of four, and had the vice chancellor speak more Latin to us, then we all bowed again as the vice chancellor and deans took off their mortarboard hats to us. As each row of four moved up to face the vice chancellor before filing out of the theater for the second and final time, we paused while the vice chancellor looked us each firmly and unblinkingly in the face for several seconds. I'd been warned about keeping eye contact through this "icy stare," or solemn recognition of my achievements (or whatever it was intended to mean), but the experience felt unnerving. Here are some photos my sister got of the entire ritual:
(This "icy stare" wasn't the status quo for everyone, though. The DPhils got to shake hands. And the students getting a Master of Arts had to genuflect before the vice chancellor while he touched a bible to their heads.)
Whew, now all done! I stood outside the theater until the entire ceremony had finished with the undergraduates, then had to engage in a little more hat-tipping as the admins and deans came out, then it was time for photos. As well as a little good-natured chuckling about how strange and, well, Oxford the entire thing had been. I found it all rather amusing -- as you can probably tell, since I've gone into such exhaustive detail in this post. This place is truly absurd and strange and befuddling and wonderful, and ceremonies like graduation do a good job of showcasing just how. Post-graduation celebrations included high tea, then dinner and a pub night with family and a few friends who were still in Ox, followed by a day of punting and sightseeing in the vicinity on Sunday. Then, Monday morning, we were off to Berlin to start the first leg of our family travels -- but that will need to wait until my next post!
P.S. All photos in this post are courtesy of the lovely Leigh Kolb and her wonderful new camera, which I was thoroughly jealous of the entire time we were traveling. With my next post we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming (aka my six-year-old camera) and the pictures won't be nearly as nice, I promise.
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