Have you ever noticed the signs that the academic year is coming to an end—the ones the university seems to carry around every April like a seasonal allergy?
To begin with, students suddenly care a lot less about what’s happening in class. “I can always pull the classic ‘I need to pass this class to graduate’ speech,” I imagine them thinking—and honestly, it works more often than it should, though I suspect some professors are on the verge of starting a rebellion against it.
Then come the absences. Attendance? Optional, apparently. Students know that that same graduation excuse can magically erase a missed class or two. After all, it’s much easier to negotiate attendance than it is to negotiate a failing grade. But outside the classroom, there are clearer signs that someone isn’t just surviving the semester, they’re about to escape it.
These students walk differently. They’re no longer hunched over like they’re carrying the emotional weight of every assignment they’ve ever submitted. They smile. Like, with teeth. It’s almost shocking, as if they’ve suddenly remembered that smiling is a thing people do.
They also become weirdly social. Not because life is easier — finals still exist — but because there’s this growing realization that very soon, everyone is going to scatter into their “real lives.” So now is the time to say yes to plans, to conversations, to stop being a robot and being a person again. They often come with updates, too: a job interview, a job offer or, at the very least, a LinkedIn post draft ready to go with the famous, “I’m excited to share…”
Of course, not everyone is glowing. There’s another group, the “anxious graduates.” They lie awake at 2 a.m., staring at the ceiling and doing mental math like: “If I don’t get a job in the next three weeks, can I live in my parents’ basement?” (The answer is no.)
But no matter which category they fall into, there’s one unmistakable sign: the red graduation robe. Suddenly, they’re everywhere. Walking around campus, followed by a photographer like minor celebrities. Climbing signs, posing in front of random buildings, hugging trees they’ve probably ignored for four years. Every corner becomes a photoshoot.
And there’s something slightly chaotic about it. Wearing a graduation robe while you still have finals feels illegal. Like you’re skipping ahead in the story. Like you’re trying on an ending you haven’t fully earned yet, but need to believe in to survive the next few weeks.
But who cares? Everyone waits for that moment anyway. Putting on the robe (red for undergrads, black for grad students) is a universal experience. And walking around campus in it, while underclassmen stare at you like you’ve unlocked a secret level, feels like walking around with proof that you made it through something that once felt impossible.
It’s a good feeling. A really good feeling. The kind that says, “this is almost over.” And somehow, at the same time, “I’m not sure I’m ready for it to be over.”
The red robes stand out against the campus buildings in a way that feels almost symbolic. The buildings, brown, steady, a little tired, hold the before. The long nights, the stress or the day you decided to skip a shower because you were too tired and just needed your bed. And the red? The red is the after. Bright, loud, impossible to ignore. A small, wearable victory.
So they walk around like that, half proud, half emotional, fully aware that this moment won’t last. And honestly, they’ve earned it.
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