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I'm a senior at Harvard University who thought I had 2 months until graduation. When we heard we had five days left, my friends and I staged our own ceremony.
I'm a senior at Harvard University who thought I had 2 months until graduation. When we heard we had five days left, my friends and I staged our own ceremony.
Clifford CourvoisierMar 14, 2020, 19:35 IST
Clifford Scott Courvoisier is a senior at Harvard University from Cloudcroft, New Mexico, a small mountain town with a population of less than one thousand.
After Harvard shut down over coronavirus fears, students were given five days to evacuate, cutting Courvoisier and his classmates' senior spring off.
Courvoisier and his friends made the most of their final five days as seniors on campus, hitting their favorite hangout spots and hitting bucket-list items.
They also had a makeshift graduation ceremony on Harvard Yard.
This is the way a world ends: not with a bang, but a zipper.
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When I went to sleep in my dorm room on March 9, 2020, I was a senior at Harvard University. I had two months left of my undergraduate career - two months to continue to "grow in wisdom" as the words above Harvard's Dexter Gate urged me to do; two months to spend with my lifelong friends before senior week and the devastating goodbyes.
But I awoke on the morning of Tuesday, March 10, to the sound of a zipper from my common room. Normally, this would not be cause for alarm - except I know my roommate very well. He carries a zipper-less briefcase and wears zipper-less coats. If I was hearing a zipper, it had to be coming from a suitcase - and, if it was coming from a suitcase, then something was very wrong.
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That morning I learned that I, along with 1,600 of my fellow seniors, would not be finishing our final year on Harvard's campus. In the wake of the rapid spread of COVID-19, a strain of coronavirus, all university classes were to be moved online, and everyone was required to vacate their dorms by Sunday, March 15.
We were supposed to have two months. We now found ourselves with five days.
Overnight, a fog descended over the campus. The instant reaction was shocking. Classrooms all over campus were filled with the sobs of students who wanted to continue studying, but had become too overwhelmed by the brutal reality of their situations. Harvard professors across disciplines expressed sympathy, disappointment, confusion, and even outrage at the suddenness and extremity of the university's actions. And there is still a tremendous amount of ambiguity surrounding future circumstances.
This sudden, rapid upheaval has had a profound impact on me and those closest to me. My friend group is an interesting one. Many of us met on the first day of our freshman year as roommates and have lived together — or in close proximity — ever since. We are an incredibly diverse group of students, some international and faced with a terrifying reality: the inability to return home.
At this uncertain time, there is a tendency to focus on the negative — to despair, deny, pity, and get angry. In the early hours of March 10, we all certainly felt compelled to indulge in those emotions.
But we didn't have time to wallow
With the five-day deadline hanging over our heads, we decided to focus on the positive, and to do what we could to make the most of our time left together. Indeed, the unfortunate circumstances have only bolstered our sense of compassion and togetherness.
The first day we spent visiting our favorite places and doing all the little things that we had neglected to do in our time here. Whether it was getting ice cream at a small corner store, or playing foosball in a common room, we retraced the familiar and experimented with the new to make the most of what little time we had left.
Yet, after it all, something still felt missing. In order to walk away and properly say goodbye, my friends and I needed closure.
We needed to graduate
It had become clear to us that, considering the circumstances, we would likely not have a graduation ceremony on campus.
We decided to create our own.
There are two significant gates leading into Harvard Yard: the historic area where freshmen live, and the famous statue of John Harvard resides. The first is known as Johnston Gate, and it is the one almost all freshmen pass through when they enter Harvard University for the first time.
So let the ceremony begin
At 3:30 PM on Wednesday, March 11, nine of my fellow seniors and I lined up outside of this gate. Led by our friend Alyssa, a junior at the college, we made our way through the gate, our sights set on the steps of Memorial Church, the traditional location of Harvard's annual commencement ceremony. Smiling and laughing, with our own a capella rendition of "Pomp and Circumstance" ringing through the Yard, we wound our way through the concrete pathways, past the John Harvard statue, and ascended the stairs. On that platform, we cheered and applauded as Alyssa called out each of our names and we proceeded across the stage to receive our own handmade, personalized diploma.
And when we had all traversed the stage, with a cry of triumph, we hurled our baseball caps skyward. We were unofficial graduates of Harvard. But there was still one more thing that we had to do.
"Depart to serve thy country and thy kind"
There is another gate that leads into Harvard Yard, known as Dexter Gate. As you pass through the Gate, entering the Yard, there is an inscription above your head that reads, "Enter to grow in wisdom." As you exit, there is an inscription that reads, "Depart to serve thy country and thy kind." Gathered before that gate, each of us took a deep breath and, one by one, passed underneath those words.
We had been deprived of a few more months together, but the powerful bonds we had made, our resolve to continue on, and our unyielding dedication could not be broken. Surrounded by our closest friends, we commemorated our Harvard experience, and departed with honor to serve our country and our kind. After all, that is what we all came here to do in the first place.
