Graduation 09

Last year's graduation was fascinating because it was my first time experiencing one in Japan. Despite having taught two groups of those graduating seniors, I didn't feel any deep connection to them; I felt kind of like an outsider. This year, however, I knew three of the graduates very well: Mizuki, Manami, and Sawami, who were in the English Club. I also knew the International Studies group, as Urata-sensei and I had taught them last year.

The goodbyes began back in June, when all university-bound third-year students began taking extra classes every afternoon. This required them to withdraw from club activities, which meant those three left the English Club last summer. For the months since, my only interaction with them had been by occasionally seeing them in the hall. In this way, they halfway left: we in the English Club didn't get to see them anymore, but nobody got upset because they were still around.

Even in January, when regular classes ended for seniors, Manami and Mizuki kept coming along with the rest of the students aspiring to enter university. (Sawami was preparing for the exam to work for the police.) Sure, I didn't get to see them any more frequently, but I helped Takahira-sensei mark some of their English compositions. That made them still feel close.

In fact, today's graduation still doesn't mean they're gone for good. Manami and Mizuki will keep coming for another week or so, making last-minute preparations for the entrance exams. Mizuki is applying for Yamaguchi University; Manami is aiming for Kyushu University.

That didn't make graduation any less emotional, though.

With a different principal than last year, I saw how much influence he has over the ceremony. We began with the procession, while the brass band played "Pomp and Circumstance". With about 250 students, filing in one class at a time, the poor band had to play the song on loop for about fifteen minutes.

Once everyone had entered, we all rose for the national anthem. That done, the principal was to take the stage. The designated master of ceremonies, manning the microphone throughout the proceedings, announced that the principal was taking the stage. The master of ceremonies then called all students and faculty to attention--"Kiritsu!"--which brought all of us to their feet in unison.

It's one thing to say "all of us stood in unison." It's quite another to actually see this happen. Seven hundred bodies rising at the same time, in a silent, crowded gymnasium, is impressive, to say the least. There's an audible whump created by a combination of their bodies rising and their chairs being pushed back ever so slightly.

The principal rose from his seat, approached the front-center of the gym floor, and bowed to the PTA. He then made a crisp 90-degree turn, approached the stage, ascended the stairs, and walked to the podium. I spell out each of these moves because all of it was precisely executed, with all seven hundred students and faculty--plus the couple of hundred parents in attendance--watching. He turned to face the podium, and the master of ceremonies called for students and faculty to bow: "Rei!" That done, he took the podium. On his first step to the podium, students and faculty sat down, making another loud whump as some seven hundred butts hit chairs in unison.

These moves had been practiced at length the day before--Matsushita-sensei, a P.E. teacher and the master of ceremonies for graduation, coached everyone through it for about half an hour. All the other teachers stood by, helping identify pockets of students that were lagging behind. Matsushita went so far as to demonstrate--on stage, using a chair--how to position one's hands and feet to most efficiently rise. (I've got video of all of this--the practice, the teachers scolding the students, and the final product on graduation day.)

The principal didn't give a speech. Instead, he dove right into the awarding of diplomas. Starting with the highest-level group of seniors, each homeroom teacher announced each name, and that student would shout an acknowledgment--"Hai!"--then take the stage, receive his diploma, step back, and bow to the principal. Boys went before girls in each group.

There was a large projection screen set up, visible to all those seated in the gymnasium, with a live feed to a video camera set up over the principal's shoulder. This meant that the face of each graduate could be seen as her name was called. I think this is a singularly awesome idea. It makes the ceremony a lot more individual and personal, something I wouldn't have expected at a Japanese high school. I was able to take pictures of each of the students I knew.

After giving the diplomas, the principal gave a speech that took about ten minutes. In it, he thanked the graduating class for the huge projector screen. (Each graduating class buys the school a gift; past gifts include a new curtain for the stage and folding chairs for events like graduation.) Once he finished, he stepped back from the podium, and students and faculty were again called to their feet. We then bowed, and the principal headed off stage. As he took his first step on the descending staircase, everyone sat in unison. (We'd been coached the day before on this, too.)

The head of the PTA took the stage and gave a speech. I care very little for the PTA, as I have no idea what role they play other than having drinking parties with us. I'm sure they serve an important purpose, but I don't know what it is, so I don't really pay attention when they say things. I occupied my time by thumbing through the program. On the list of faculty for the seniors, I saw the ALT position--my position--and two names: David (my predecessor) and Ryan (David's predecessor). This is kinda neat: they remembered the two ALTs who helped the graduates when they were freshmen. Anyway, the PTA chief finished his speech and was followed by a graduate. I immediately recognized her as having been one of my commercial-course students.

She gave a speech addressed to everyone: her fellow graduates, us teachers, and the parents. She thanked us all in turn for our help over the years. She began to choke up not far into the speech, and while she didn't actually break down, that was enough emotion to cause intermittent sniffling around the gym.

My Japanese, though considerably better than it was last year, is insufficient for me to fully understand speeches. However, the parts that I did pick up on sounded awfully familiar. I realized that her speech was the same as the one given by the girl last year. I don't mean she was expressing the sentiments shared by all graduating seniors--parts of it struck me as being identical to last year's. I found out later that teachers help this student prepare her speech, which explains the consistency of content and style. I don't doubt that the words were heartfelt, but recognizing that it was unoriginal cheapened the experience for me.

Anyway, she finished her speech, and everyone rose for a song. The first verse was sung by the graduating seniors. The second verse was sung by the other students, and the third added the faculty. It was at this point that I noticed some of the seniors begin crying. Most of them were visibly struggling to hold back tears, and several of them were failing. We sang the school song next, marking the last time the graduates would sing it as students.

Last, the teachers lined the space around the exit and everyone applauded for the graduates' recessional. The chorus sang "Tegami: Haikei Juugo no Kimi e" ("A letter: Greetings to a 15 Year Old," a song about someone writing a letter to her younger self.) By this point, several students were crying, along with quite a few teachers. The homeroom teachers left after the graduates, returning to their classroom for one last homeroom. The remaining faculty returned to their seats. The vice principal then announced the PTA's departure, calling each by name as they stood and filed out. The head of the PTA gave another speech, congratulating the parents of the graduates, as well as the principal on his first graduation.

The parents were then invited to join their graduates for the last homeroom. After all parents had left, the remaining students and faculty took down the seats. The place went from a mat-covered 1,000-seat auditorium to a nondescript gymnasium in about fifteen minutes.

Usually, big school events are followed by big school parties. Last year, the post-graduation staff party was especially touching: the third-year teachers shared their fondest memories of the graduates, and most of the folks cried. This year, however, a former Tsushima High teacher had recently passed away from cancer. Out of respect for her, the party was canceled. Murahashi-sensei explained that it wouldn't feel right to celebrate something so soon after a death.