Why Graduation Caps and Gowns Need to Go

It’s time to admit how ridiculous we look in cultish academic regalia

Image created by the author using ChatGPT

As a professor who’s been in academia my entire life, I’ve been to more graduation ceremonies than most. As I sit on a hemorrhoid-inducing chair to endure several hours of mispronounced names, I often imagine how much livelier this solemn affair would be if we did not envelop students in one of the ugliest and least practical outfits ever designed. Why must we sully this important milestone with bizarre medieval costumes?

Adding insult to injury, the unsightly apparel costs poor students an arm and a leg to rent. Maybe the powers that be require students to wear this full-body tarp to conceal those missing limbs. I’m also certain the monopolies that cornered this market use an unearthly system of measurement, as the gowns are always too long or too short.

To top things off, there’s a cap malevolently designed to slip off the scalp every two minutes. Who dreamt up the illogical concept of putting a square cap on top of a round head? The church, of course. This wildly unintuitive shape for a cap stems from an evolutionary clade of ancient clerical hats, which has spawned an astonishing assortment of outlandish headpieces second only to those worn at British Royal Ascot races.

Our drab academic regalia dates to the 12th century. The 12th century! It’s fitting that these gloomy black garbs crept out of the Dark Ages, the era whose other greatest hits include the bubonic plague, the Great Famine, and the Catherine Wheel.

Some argue that graduation apparel honors a longstanding tradition. But just because something was commonly done centuries ago doesn’t mean we should do it today. Otherwise, students would seek bloodletting to remedy the headache brought on by futile attempts to balance the tipsy cap on their heads for hours. It’s no wonder graduates are eager to throw these mortarboards to the wind when all is said and done.

Don’t get me wrong — I love that students get a moment in the spotlight where they can pose for a sinfully overpriced photo that parents will be asked to purchase for the next 37 years. Students worked hard watching YouTube in class for the past four —maybe five— years. They deserve this moment in the sun, or more likely, fluorescent lights. It’s heartwarming to see students march up on stage to collect their degree, probably the first piece of paper they’ve seen in college.

It’s not that we should deny honoring students with this rite of passage. But we spend four —maybe five— years teaching them to be bold creatives, out-of-the-box thinkers, and independent forces of nature. Then we force them into regimented conformity with uniform, ill-fitting drapery and goofy hats. Is it any wonder that many students are skipping their own graduation ceremony these days?

The traditional graduation ceremony squelches freedom of expression. Graduation day is their day — it belongs to the students. Let them shine in their own unique way by letting them wear what they want, rather than coercing them into a fashion crime. At minimum, let them dress for comfort, especially if they must endure several speeches about the merits of AI, which is robbing them of the career they spent four —maybe five— years training for.

What I would give to look out into a sea of smiling faces and colorful clothing instead of what resembles a miserable flock of ravens.

We spend years preaching to students about the value of diversity and then forbid them to practice it by shrouding their individuality at graduation.

Another way to entice students back to graduation ceremonies is to let them choose their walk-up music. How fun would it be to watch students strut up to the stage to the likes of Benson Boone, AC/DC, or Lizzo? Or, for the art majors, The Cure, Billie Eilish, or Katatonia. This would be so much more rewarding than spending four — maybe five — years just to move a lousy tassel from the right side of mortarboard to the left, then watching the cap promptly fall to the ground as a result.

I don’t think I’m alone in wanting to bring a little spice to this bland affair. I know at least one professor who eschews the conventional cap and gown in favor of Jedi robes. That’s the kind of creativity we’re looking for. How can we raise rebels to fight for freedom from the Empire if we make students dress like Darth Vader?

Graduation is supposed to be a celebration. Why do we make it so punishingly boring?

We’re honoring intellectual achievement. Why don’t we have the good sense to see that we look ridiculous?

We’re cherishing novel, independent thought. Why are we clinging to outmoded traditions?

Let’s retire the traditional attire. Let students be themselves on their big day and save a lot of money and discomfort in the process.