On the 14th of March our university held Commencement exercises in the morning. In the afternoon some of us gathered for lunch, and in the evening the university staff and faculty joined the new graduates for a big party at a hotel in downtown Kyoto.
I really enjoyed Commencement. The ceremonies were typical of our university, but this time I had a front-row seat. Our special guests included a young American Catholic priest who is visiting Japan. I sat with him and served as his Japanese-English interpreter. We had time to talk about Christianity and Zen Buddhism, and our short conversation was one of them most rewarding dialogues that I've had in a long time. I wish there were more religious leaders like him.
After Commencement we gathered outdoors to greet the new
graduates and their families. When I met the mother of one of
my seminar graduates, she said, I remember you.
She
graduated from this university during my first year. I know
that I've taught some of my students' mothers, but to meet two
generations of graduates together was a new experience that
gave me great satisfaction. I have a rewarding career as
a teacher, and I'm very happy that I've been able to work at
the same university for nearly three decades.
Graduation day always brings complicated emotions. I felt proud and happy for my former students, of course, but as they shared their memories of college life I began to feel a loss — a little empty space inside. I've known most of these people for four years — and some of the Master of Arts graduates I've known for six years. I know they need to take the next big step in their lives, and I wish them well, but already I miss them.