Posted on: Sunday, June 26, 2005

It was commencement rite like no other

By Ka'ohua Lucas

A torrential downpour enveloped our van as we crawled toward the parking lot. Dark clouds taunted us as we snuggled further into our jackets.

"Look at this weather," my mom sighed as she peered out the van window. "What a day to have a graduation ceremony."

Our 'ohana arrived a couple of hours before our daughter's graduation from Evergreen State College in Olympia, Wash. The ceremony was to take place in Red Square, a vast cobbled expanse mimicking Russia's meeting place for political forums. The square was ringed with buildings and grassy pu'u or knolls.

Two of us had rain gear. None had umbrellas.

There was a brief interlude from the rain, and we scurried to a trail that led us through evergreen trees and eventually opened up into Red Square. Flanking the cement steps was a tent selling a variety of flowers and on the other side a campus organization peddling orchid lei.

A sea of plastic folding chairs facing the stage welcomed us. Some families had brought their own lawn chairs and pop-up tents, setting up camp on the surrounding pu'u.

People milled around i some keeping warm as they cupped steaming mugs of coffee. Children rolled down grassy slopes, indifferent to the soggy ground. A flutist emerged dancing to his own tune, and then vanished in the crowd. We found a row of vacant chairs and wiped away the rain water that had formed a pool on each seat.

I knew that Evergreen was a nontraditional school. Our daughter had chosen it for its avant-garde education. This is where formal grades are absent; narrative-style evaluations are the norm. Students enroll in a single comprehensive program rather than a series of courses.

Programs are designed so that students engage in activities, labs, seminars and field trips in groups of no more than 25 students. Our daughter enrolled in a program called "Dissent, Injustice and the Making of America." She researched a case, wrote an appellate brief and prepared for oral arguments, appearing before a mock U.S. Supreme Court made up of her peers.

She also spent the last semester of her senior year earning credit and a stipend as an intern at the Capitol.

The school promotes student learning through interdisciplinary study, collaborative learning, personal engagement and linking theory with practical applications. It also emphasizes respect for other groups, bridging differences.

As the dark clouds opened up to blue skies, the effervescent president began the ceremony. I waited for the speaker to stumble over my daughter's Hawaiian name, but was preoccupied with the ensemble that made its way to the stage.

A young woman in a tiger-clad costume accepted her diploma. Three young black men pumped their arms in the air as their names were announced. All were dressed as "Men in Black," wearing shades.

A mother-and-daughter team accepted their diplomas.

A young man with green Mohawk waved to the crowd as he ambled toward the stage.

A grandfather with his family grinned as he accepted his diploma.

There were graduates in traditional green caps and gowns, a group of girls in what appeared to be prom dresses from the '50s, a gang of leather-clad bikers complete with piercings — and my daughter in a simple mu'umu'u, decked out in flower lei.

American Indian graduates were identified by their tribes.

I was so impressed with the ensemble and with my daughter's friend, who was selected as student speaker and whose speech encouraged folks to "Fight the Power."

Everyone, including professors, seemed to be genuinely happy.

I asked my daughter what she enjoyed most about her Evergreen experience.

"Mom, this is like no other school," she said. "This is where I learned to write well, think critically, to become more tolerant and able to communicate effectively with a variety of audiences. This is where students can receive a private-school education at a public school price."

Reach Ka'ohua Lucas at Family Matters, 'Ohana page, The Advertiser, P.O. Box 3110, Honolulu, HI 96802; fax 525-8055; or at ohana@honoluluadvertiser.com.