So I’m marching in the Convocation Ceremony today. As I walk across campus in my professorial robes, a nice lady stops me.
“You must be very happy to be graduating!” she says.
“I’m not graduating. My students are. I’m a professor,” I explain.
“Wow, you are so young, I could have never guessed,” she responds.
I had a variation of this conversation two more times during this short walk.
I feel very stressed right now (details in my next post), and when that happens, I tend to become confused and disoriented. This is why I decided to follow another professor wearing his regalia in hopes that he would lead me to the place where we were supposed to gather before the convocation.
As he resolutely marched into a room in the building where we were gathering while I followed, I vaguely noticed that people were engaged in an activity I didn’t necessarily associate with marching in a convocation ceremony. After I emerged from my autistic fugue, I realized that I had followed the prof right into the Gents’ bathroom and was now scaring men doing their business at the urinals.
Well, at least I look young.