Pomped and Circumstanced

Due to the huge volume of requests for a description of a Ukrainian graduation, I’ve decided to forego my usual column and deliver such a description.

First, allow me to set the scene. It’s hot. 34 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. Plus it’s humid. There’s a slight wind, but it just kicks up dust since we haven’t had rain in over a week.

We’re at my school… well, out in front of the school. There are a lot of people (c’mon, it’s a graduation) standing around. A white rope and a chalk line drawn on
the ground cordon them off. The white line makes a square with the front of my school. Please note that this is the first time I’ve seen most Ukrainians acknowledge the concept of a line. They don’t exist in a way with which you’re familiar… but don’t be deceived: there’s order behind the shoving masses at the bank, train station, metro, supermarket, etc. For example, I was waiting in line at a restaurant when a man cut in front of me. I called him on it. He explained, kind of politely, that he had been in line. It was his spot. But he had gone to the bathroom. But now he was back. I conceded… I mean, really, he was there earlier. As evidence of my cultural assimilation, I now refuse to acknowledge most lines as well.

Anyway.

Being a member of the faculty, I was expected to dress up. So I dressed up. Luckily, Ukraine (I’m being far too general with this statement. Forgive me? Maybe it’s just the villages) is all about second hand clothing. Though no one will openly admit it (except for me, but I’m not really Ukrainian) , they shop at the second hand bazaar. The second hand bazaar is part of the open-air market in my village. It’s only there on Saturdays, but it’s worth a visit. There are piles of clothes, organized of course, all over. Piles of pants on tables, piles of shirts on the hoods of cars, underwear and sweaters on tarps on the ground. Piles of left-footed shoes (because you won’t steal just a left shoe…). Of course, if you try on shoes at the bazaar, they’ll present you with the right-footed shoe and a box to stand in/on so as not to dirty your socks. I digress. I shop at the second hand bazaar and I happened to pick up a very nice jacket and vest combo. It comes in handy for dressier occasions such as, oh, I don’t know, UKRAINIAN GRADUATIONS.

As you’ll remember, it’s hot. I ditched the jacket.

I entered the school to wait for everything to begin. Not that I needed to wait inside the school. It’s just that waiting outside meant standing alone and looking like I had no idea what was going on. So I stood in the school and looked like I had no idea what was going on. But I wasn’t alone, and that’s most important.
In the lobby of our school (do schools have lobbies? I really don’t know what else to call the big empty space that confronts you as soon as you enter my school. There’s a ping-pong table and coat racks. Plus the stairs are there. It’s a lobby) stood all of the 11th grade students (11th grade is the final year of school in Ukraine. These are the graduates). But they didn’t look like they usually do. Nope, instead of the tight black jeans and lace-up collar shirts, the boys were all in suits. And instead of the tight black jeans and far too revealing shirts, the girls were decked out in gowns. And their hair was done up, or down (take your pick). And everyone had flowers. I did a double take (well, more like a double step, but you get the drift). Was this graduation or was it prom? Older sisters or friends touched up faces and took pictures of groups. Moms wandered through the crowd (crowd… there were only about 35 graduates) adjusting dresses and giving compliments.

It’s still hot.

The kids are dripping sweat. Hair-dos are wilting and make up is streaking/smearing/dripping. Basically, it’s business as usual for prom/graduation. To be honest, I had heard reports from my friend Shelley about her “School Leaver’s Ball”, but I thought that was something different. I didn’t think it was graduation. Turns out that it was.

So I followed the teachers out of the school and into the schoolyard. There were a lot of people behind the rope barrier. It makes sense: I live in a village. An outdoor graduation/promenade is a huge to-do. The director of our school shared a few words and welcomed everyone to the graduation. Then we welcomed in the graduates. In prom fashion, they paraded out in pairs. They walked around the square, along the white rope/chalk line. Photos were snapped, smiles and words of encouragement exchanged. While they promenaded really old speakers pumped out a marching beat. It kinda sounded like Flight of the Valkyries. They then played the Ukrainian national anthem and several of the graduates raised the Ukrainian flag.

Graduations are graduations. The names were called, the diplomas handed out, and the hands were shook. Then the regional minister of education had a few words to say. Then a graduate sang a song (the words were something like “School number two, school number two, I won’t forget you, I won’t forget you, don’t forget me, don’t forget me.” In Ukrainian, natch). Then the graduates promenaded around the school three times… a treacherous feat, considering the terrain of broken asphalt and mud around the school and the stiletto heels on the feet of every girl. The crowd dispersed and the newly graduated school leavers proceeded to take pictures with everyone and everything. I don’t know how many pictures I posed for, but there were times when the people in the photo didn’t change, simply our positions. It’s a shame I won’t see any of the photos with me in them, because I made some pretty good faces.

After all of the film in the village had been used up, we (the teachers, the parents, and the graduates) walked ourselves to one of the local dining establishments. Because most local dining establishments in Ukraine don’t actually have anything offered on the menu, the parents had ordered ahead and the tables were set/covered with plates of food. It was about 9:30 in the evening when we arrived at the local dining establishment (to put things into perspective, I stumbled home at 6:15-ish). Commence eating and toasting and everything else that occurs at a dinner. There were separate tables/areas for the three groups.

There was a band and a dance floor. Which lend themselves to dancing. So, there was dancing. And lots of it. A traditional Ukrainian dance might consist of lots of linked arms or held hands or both. It might involve dancing in a big circle or spinning or both. A dance that I was lucky enough to take part in (please read that as forced into. The director actually pulled hands apart and placed my hands in their stead) involved us holding hands in a big circle and dancing around two people in the center. Those two people each held a handkerchief/towel/napkin and they were dancing as well. This dance is kind of like spin the bottle, but it takes the chance out of the game. You see, the people in the center use the handkerchief/towel/napkin as an indicator. They wave it at one of the dancers in the big circle. The indicated dancer then enters the circle and dances with the holder of the handkerchief/towel/napkin (this usually meant that they linked arms and spun around) after a predetermined (I say predetermined because I didn’t count the number of times spun) amount of time, the handkerchief/towel/napkin is placed on the ground and knelt upon. The indicated dancer then leans down and kisses the kneeler. The kneeler then stands up and enters the big circle. The kisser takes up the handkerchief/towel/napkin and begins to dance. Lather, rinse, and repeat.
I gave a kiss to the class valedictorian, but thankfully the dance ended before I had to choose someone to kiss (which would have been awkward… especially since my director keeps hinting that I could/should/needed to pick one of the female graduates to date).

They did the chicken dance. Really.

There was a dance contest.

There was a musical chairs kind of dance but the odd person out had to dance with a broom. If you danced with the broom three times, you were ousted and then made to perform a suggestive act. Two that I witnessed: 1. An egg was placed at the bottom of one pant leg and it had to be moved up and over and down to the bottom of the other pant leg. While inside the pants. And the person moving it was not the same gender as the wearer of the pants. 2. An orange had to be rolled the length of a human body. The body belonged to a girl. The roller was a boy. The orange was rolled with the nose. I didn’t take part in those.

Continue eating and toasting and everything else that occurs at a dinner.

At one point, I was asked what Americans eat for breakfast. I explained that breakfast and lunch are up to the eater. People eat cereal (this is a hard cultural translation, since the only cereals here are of the sugary variety and are only eaten by small children) or oatmeal or toast or eggs, etc. Lunch is usually leftovers (leftovers are fair game for all meals here. I found that leftovers usually appeared on my breakfast menu when I lived with host families) or a sandwich. They told me that lunch was not lunch, but actually a second breakfast. They told me that we eat lunch in the early evening and then eat dinner later in the night. I told them they were wrong. They told me that they saw it on television (I hear that as proof all the time. Or I’m told that they read it in the newspaper. My question to that: What’s the local Ukrainian paper doing reporting on American meal schedules?). And they said that my family obviously does things differently than the rest of the nation. I was then told to eat more liver and onions.

At 4:30 or so, commence singing Ukrainian folk/party songs. My favorite party song involves birthdays. The words, as translated by me, are something like this: “Whoever was born in (insert month or any other qualifier that will involve at least one person) stand up. Drink drink drink your drink, drink drink for us.” It’s repeated for all the months of the year. It’s a great song with a catchy beat and everyone who isn’t drinking claps the tempo. It’s such a popular song that it was rallied around and sang for/by all three groups. So, lucky us, we went through the months of the year three times and drank for such things as graduating school, having a child who graduated, teaching at the school, being born in Ukraine, being born in the States (guess who that was…), and so on.

At some point in the night fireworks were fired off outside the local dining establishment. The tradition across Ukraine is for the newly graduated school leavers, as dawn arrives, to walk somewhere in nature (this is a direct translation. This is probably a village/small town tradition… since nature usually refers to a lake or a forest or a tree) and “meet the sun as graduates”. The graduates of my school walk to the lake. Dawn arrived about 4am. The last dance occurred after 6am, which was when I went home. Suffice to say the graduates didn’t quite meet the sun. But they made the walk to the lake anyway.

To sum up, the ingredients of a Ukrainian graduation: 4 parts Graduation, 2 parts Prom, Lots of Food, 2 parts Dancing, 1 part Singing, a dash of Wedding Reception, and a liberal amount of vodka. Mix well, serve chilled.

My next goal: get invited to a Ukrainian wedding.