Graduation

The school year ends in March and begins again in April in Japan. Why? I think it's mostly because early April is supposed to be cherry blossom season, although of course it differs throughout the country. Today was graduation at schools throughout Japan, and I attended the graduation at Kita-chu, the largest of my schools. There are some similarities with American graduations (well, that I've attended), but there are also some key differences.

Almost all Japanese schools public and private have uniforms, so instead of suits, kimonos or graduation robes, the third year students wear their uniforms for the last time. The teachers, formal guests and most of the parents wore plain black suits, which are considered most appropriate for a formal occasion. I was very happy that my one suit happens to be black with infinitesimal pinstripes, but I was one of very few women with suit pants instead of a skirt, and then of course I stick out no matter what. However, a handful of mothers wore beautiful kimono, and the third year's English teacher, who has taught these kids all three years, wore a gorgeous cherry blossom kimono with burgundy hakama pants.

The graduation was held in the gym, which doubles as an assembly room on many occasions. The parents and school administration filed in first, followed by the first and second year students and their teachers. The third year students and teachers came in last, of course, and the students entered in boy/girl pairs before dividing in gendered seating sections. The vice principal announced that the ceremony had begun and introduced the principal, who went up on stage and said a few words. Then came diploma time, but rather than hand each individual student his or her diploma, the principal only gave the first student his diploma on stage. I hear that most schools do hand out diplomas individually, but Kita-chu is rather large at over 180 students, so they chose not to. Instead, each homeroom teacher read out the names of his/her class, and each student stood up and said "Hai!" (yes) after hearing her/his name. After the whole class was called, they sat down as one, and the next teacher came to the podium and started in.


Then the principal gave a much longer speech, and he was followed by a representative from the Board of Education and the head of the school's PTA. There were also brief greetings from the honorary guests, mostly town officers and principals or vice-principals of the elementary schools that go to Kita-chu. This, as you may guess, was the somewhat boring part.

Luckily, next came my favorite part: the singing. The remaining students, as they were formally called (first and second years), sang Auld Lang Syne in Japanese to their sempais, the third years. Then the third years got up from their seats at the front, gathered in choral stance and faced the audience. They sang three songs, all of which they had been practicing for months for the chorus contest in February. The last song was the quintessential graduation song, 旅立ちの日に or "The Day of Setting Off." During the song, many students started crying, including an entire section of sopranos, and I admit I shed a few tears myself! After the song, they returned to their seats and filed out with their teachers, many of whom were sobbing as well.


Afterward, the rest of us left the gym, and the teachers and students formed a send-off wave at the back of the school, where he waved and said goodbye to the third years as they walked away. In reality they clustered in the parking lot, where the scene resembled graduations I've known closely: students in groups, with their teachers and their friends, asking their parents to take countless pictures. I joined this scene and was gratified to receive several requests for photos together.

I was also invited to the teachers' party that night, which was awesome; everyone was in a great mood and most people were drinking. I particularly love the administration at this school, so I spent a lot of time talking with the principal, vice-principal, and the dude in charge of daily affairs. I sat next to and chatted with a very kind and fun teacher, who sobbed prodigiously when he walked out with his class and when teased about it, replied, "Really? Which teacher was crying?" But he and many other teachers continually mentioned how much they enjoyed teaching this class, and that they had never cried at graduation before, but this time, they were really emotional. And part of it, which I felt as well, is that they'll never see most of these students again.