Half of all graduation ceremonies is still taking place on campus, under strict conditions. Family and friends have to stay home. Is the joy still the same? Vox sits in on a presentation. 'Something always goes wrong.'

‘Congratulations on your graduation!’ A students jumps up from his comfortable red chair and walks to the front. His thesis appears on a big screen. The degree certificate is handed over in a white folder. Mother wipes away a tear. A dog walks through the screen. Wait, what?

This is how a graduation ceremony takes place in times of corona: a combination of the known and the unknown. The classical grid of speeches and the diploma handover, without the usual company of family and friends. The joy of receiving the diploma without the festive drink afterwards. Spectators are watching, but through Zoom. Therefore, the ceremony for Geography, Planology and Environment in theatre room C has its surprises.

Glitter

The department of Diploma Services arranges all graduation matters on campus. Way before the first students arrive, employee Margreet Tielemans is preparing the ceremony in the room. ‘My role is that of a hostess’, she says. Together with two coworkers, she places the tables, marks enough distance between chairs and makes sure the degree certificates are ready. The best part about her job is the contact with happy students, she says. ‘And to make a party out of it, together.’

About half of the graduation ceremonies is still taking place on campus, says Tielemans. ‘Smaller study programmes often choose this. At bigger study programmes, like Law, where you have about a hundred graduates, that’s not possible. They often choose for a ceremony through Zoom.’

Vox | Diplomauitreiking anno 2020 from Voxweb on Vimeo.

Some study programmes don’t even have a ceremony. Political Science, for example. For them, there’s a desk handover: without glitter, at the student desk at Berchmanianum. You are in and out in five minutes.

No wonder that the eleven students who trickle in are happy that they receive their degree certificate on campus, from the teachers with whom they have shared a lot for at least three years. ‘It’s a pity that I couldn’t bring anyone, but at least this is something,’ says Anke van Gils.

She is one of the students who will give a speech. ‘Improving my public speaking skills was one reason to become chairman of study association Mundus, but because of corona, this is only my second time,’ she says. ‘So I am a little nervous.’

Blue jeans

Martin van der Velde and Rianne van Melik, the teachers who are organising the ceremony, have arrived at the venue as well. Bachelor coordinator Van der Velde is a little underdressed with his blue jeans and black sweater. ‘I was only invited to come this morning’, he explains. The head of the Examination Committee had a cold and didn’t want to come, out of fear of infecting others with the corona virus. ‘That’s why I wear these jeans’, he apologises.

Van Melik, who leads the ceremony, starts at exactly three o’clock. After asking for silence, she takes the stage with a speech in which she reminisces and praises her students. ‘I am proud of you’, she says. The speech is interrupted by a student who says he didn’t receive a Zoom link, and his family wants to see the ceremony. The problem is solved quickly: a student asks his number to send the link. ‘We have seen that type of creativity a lot this year’, says Van der Velde when he starts his speech.

His story about Geography, Planology and Environment is not exactly going spotless. His powerpoint presentation keeps on skipping to the next slide, forcing the teacher to click backwards time after time. It looks like a sketch. Eventually, Van der Velde decides to ignore the rebellious presentation. ‘Something always goes wrong’, knows Diploma Services employee Tielemans.

Unstirred

After this, it’s up to the two students: first Van Gils and after her Pieter Janssen. Van Gils makes people laugh with her story about how going out was often prioritised over studying. ‘My first year might have been a bit too much fun, but I did manage to receive my degree’, she says.

Across from the stage, there’s a large screen on which the faces of about 30 spectators are visible, even though many of them switch off their video in between speeches. While Janssen takes them to the garbage dumping grounds of the city of Semarang in Indonesia, the topic of his thesis, his attention suddenly shifts to one of the many living rooms on his screen. ‘I see a dog’, he says matter of factly, after which he goes on, unstirred.

After an hour, the speeches are done, and van Melik announces the handing over of the degree certificates. After that, a surrealistic scene unfolds, which has become less strange in times of corona. Proud students smile and wave at a screen full of fathers, mothers, grandmothers, grandfathers, boyfriends, and girlfriends.

Apart from their certificate, students receive a tote bag with an image of the skyline of Nijmegen. In the bag, there’s a white mug and the ‘best licorice ever’, from a market salesman in Alkmaar. It is meant as a replacement for the drinks afterwards. Students shrug it off. They are just happy to receive their diploma.

Small town

Because of the lack of partying, the ceremony ends quite abruptly. The happy students congratulate each other in the hall in front of C, and leave quickly to meet friends and family, to celebrate with them. In a well-filled room at study association Mundus, chairman Van Gils reflects. ‘I enjoyed the ceremony’, she says cheerfully. ‘Very fun, not too tedious.’

A train journey of over two hours awaits her, to a ‘small town in Brabant’, to have a drink with her parents. Is she looking forward to it? ‘My mom wasn’t as happy with me saying that my first year was a bit too much fun’, she says. Jokingly: ‘So it remains to be seen how much fun it will be.’