convocation and vanity

I’ve gone to new student convocation every year since I’ve been at Duke, and every year I wonder why I go. It’s exactly the kind of thing that I would normally skip out on. I might RSVP yes because I like the idea of going, but, when it comes time to leave my air conditioning on a Sunday to go into the North Carolina summer heat and humidity in a velvet robe designed for medieval European weather, it’s exactly the kind of thing I would skip out on.

I went my first year because it was strongly encouraged, but, more importantly, I think I went because I liked playing dress-up as one of the important people. In fact, what I didn’t know then was that the important people mostly didn’t go to convocation, but I wouldn't have realized that when I was a student, and, since I wasn’t an important person, I could at least dress up as one for a little while, and maybe a student would be fooled. Or maybe, more likely, I would be fooled.

I didn’t go anywhere like Duke as an undergraduate, and I’m sure part of my being at convocation is because it’s the closest I can get to being a student here, to being one of the special ones. I’m pretty sure I’ll never be able to get over that.

Showing myself that I was one of the important people required not only that I go to convocation, but, while sitting in the pews at the front of the beautiful gothic chapel, I needed to be very much indifferent to the experience, almost inconvenienced by this thing that I had in fact freely chosen to do. So I read the book of Ecclesiastes from the Bible in the pew in front of me—low, so the students couldn’t see, but clearly showing myself that I was really too cool for it. But in a sophisticated way, reading about how “all is vanity,” not just by checking my phone.

Over time, I came a little more to terms with not being important in the way I wanted to be, and dressing up doesn’t convince me that I am. I still like dressing up, though, and being part of the pageantry. I’m proud that I get to play dress up in this way, and I like adding to the ambiance for the students. Starting college should feel important, and the way that we make it feel important is playing dress-up and carrying a giant mace, putting a giant necklace on the president, and doing a couple of ritualized things. I’m an extra in this production, but a good production needs extras.

Over time, I’ve gotten to know the other extras even better, the regulars who must all have their own reasons for coming to these ceremonies in their hot robes, using up a couple of hours to be window-dressing, nameless henchmen surrounding the final boss. It’s a good group, mostly teachers who interact with students a lot. We’re definitely not the stars, and many of us aren’t even especially extraverted. But it’s a group who really seem to love students, which might be the explanation of why we all end up here. It’s a wonderful bit of vanity that we’re all in together, forgettable but necessary pieces of the background in these students’ undergraduate experiences.