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Chapters of Our Lives T
his Editorial was inspired by a Senior Day ceremony for basketball players. I appreciate the emotions they experienced upon leaving the nest of affection of their fellow players, coaches, and fans (myself included); departing from the educational institution to which they have developed much loyalty; and facing an impending change in life. These emotions are certainly not unique to athletes; graduating students share them. I regularly teach instrumental analysis to seniors, in the spring of the year. This is a challenging class, because the material is not easy and because students in their last semester tend to catch the debilitating mood called “senioritis”. They understand that this is their last semester of the wonderful life of student-hood, and they want to enjoy it (and study less). But I get the students through it, and on the last class day, I have a little speech that is my Senior Day ceremony for them. Essentially, I tell them this may be the last class day for them—ever, perhaps—so appreciate it. I advise them to remember that they “grew up” in Chapel Hill as chemistry majors. I tell them I’m proud to have taught them during their last undergraduate class. And I urge them not to forget the importance of learning on their own. That day is one on which I sometimes have a little catch in my throat—my words to these students are sincere—just like the basketball coach on his Senior Day. Students have, of course, a formal graduation ceremony at the end of their last semester. I have always felt, however, that professors should offer their own, personalized ceremony as I describe above. Having some parting words for students is a fitting end to a class. After all, what we don’t pointedly tell
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our students—although they may sense it—is that they really are leaving the sheltered life of a student and facing a world of “do it or fail”. Professional life requires continued learning, but it is not a course. Failures in professional life are not erased by retaking the course, and successes usually bring not happy relaxation but new responsibilities and challenges. These ideas about roundball players and undergraduate chemistry majors finishing their classes as the end of one of life’s chapters can be extended to many other situations. They include graduating from high school and becoming a fledgling Ph.D. In these circumstances, people face a daunting change of life. Yet there are many more chapters to come for the newly gainfully employed graduate: the first raise, promotion, grant award (or rejection), publication of independent research, and patent—not to mention a spouse, a mortgage, and offspring. Our modern society, including that of professional chemists, is a busy one, and in the United States we typically don’t take the time to stand on ceremony. We tend to act as if ceremony for its own sake is something to be tolerated rather than embraced. But a ceremony that reminds one of the start of a new chapter in life is an important observance. I encourage my fellow professors around the world to give their students a bit of ceremony at the end of their senior classes.
© 2005 AMERICAN CHEMICAL SOCIETY
