Graduation is supposed to be a moment of recognition, reflection and celebration, a carefully structured event that honors years of work and marks the transition into a new chapter. That’s why Drew University’s decision to combine the Theological School, the College of Liberal Arts and the Caspersen School of Graduate Studies into a single, unified commencement ceremony raises serious concerns about logistics, accessibility and the overall student experience.
At first glance, a combined ceremony might seem efficient or even symbolic, a gesture toward unity across disciplines. But in practice, merging three distinct schools into one event creates a scale problem that cannot be ignored. The sheer number of graduates, faculty, families and guests multiplies dramatically, turning what should be a meaningful ceremony into a crowded, drawn-out production. More people means more names to read, more transitions and more opportunities for delays. Even under the most optimistic planning, it is difficult to imagine how such a large event could remain streamlined.
I say this not just as an observer, but as someone who experienced Drew’s commencement the way it used to be. As a member of the 2024 graduating class, before the ceremonies were combined, I remember a day that felt intentional and personal. The ceremony was beautiful. It flowed seamlessly, each moment clearly designed to honor the students it was meant to celebrate. I felt seen. I felt heard. There was space for recognition, for reflection and for genuine pride in what we had accomplished.
That contrast became clear when watching the Class of 2025 graduate alongside the Caspersen School of Graduate Studies. Even with just two schools combined, the imbalance was noticeable. The sheer number of College of Liberal Arts students outweighed those in the graduate programs so significantly that, by the end of the ceremony, it was easy to forget it was meant to celebrate graduate students as well.
Those who had spent years working toward their master’s degrees—often balancing careers, research and personal responsibilities—were folded into a ceremony that felt primarily designed for undergraduates.
The messaging reflected that imbalance. Speeches leaned toward broad, generalized themes that aligned more closely with the undergraduate experience, offering only occasional acknowledgment of the distinct challenges and achievements of graduate students. What should have been a defining moment of recognition instead became a brief moment in a much larger, less focused event.
Now, with all three schools combined, including the Theological School, which carries its own unique identity, traditions and academic journey, the concerns only grow. Each of these communities represents a fundamentally different educational experience. To merge them all into a single ceremony risks flattening those differences entirely. If two schools already created an imbalance in recognition and tone, it is hard to imagine how adding a third, especially one so distinct, will improve the experience.
More likely, it will amplify the very issues already observed.The most obvious of which being recognition. Each of Drew’s schools has its own identity, traditions and academic culture. A combined ceremony risks diluting those distinctions, reducing the opportunity for each group to be meaningfully acknowledged. What was once a personalized experience becomes generalized, with individual achievements feeling less visible in the crowd.
It also changes who feels able to participate in meaningful ways. At one point, I had seriously considered putting myself forward as a commencement speaker. After six years at Drew, I felt I had something genuine to say about growth, community and the experience of spending such a significant chapter of my life here. But when I learned the ceremony would bring together all three schools and their families, I reconsidered.
The scale alone, speaking in front of such an enormous, mixed audience, made the opportunity feel less personal and more overwhelming. What once felt like a chance to speak to my peers became something entirely different: a speech delivered to a crowd so large and varied that it would be difficult to connect in a meaningful, authentic way.
None of this is to say that innovation in graduation planning is unwelcome. Universities should always look for ways to improve efficiency and foster community—but those goals should never come at the expense of the student experience. In fact, recent decisions suggest that this balance has already been lost.
It has come to my attention, through conversations and quiet word of mouth, that no water will be provided to students or guests during the ceremony. This is not simply a logistical oversight; it is a decision with real consequences. For an outdoor event in May, this is a glaring health and safety failure.
Graduates, their families and the staff required to work the event will be left vulnerable to heat and dehydration, all while this critical detail remains conspicuously absent from any public communication. Most attendees will reasonably assume basic provisions are in place, especially when outside beverages are often restricted at formal ceremonies, leaving many unprepared.
Beyond the immediate risks, this decision speaks volumes. It reflects a troubling disregard for the well-being of the very people the event is meant to celebrate and raises serious questions about institutional priorities. How is it that an institution capable of funding the pageantry of a commencement cannot manage to provide something as fundamental as water? If resources have been allocated elsewhere, then they have been mismanaged—plain and simple.
Graduation is the closing of our chapter at Drew. This moment carries weight that goes far beyond logistics and budgets. It is not just a reflection of time spent in classrooms, it is friendships formed, challenges overcome, identities shaped and futures imagined. Graduation is where all of that is supposed to come together in a moment that feels intentional and earned.
It is the last time we gather not as individuals, but as a community that grew alongside each other. To see that moment become diluted, generalized, and potentially unsafe is more than disappointing, it feels like a quiet loss. Because in the end, we are not just asking for a ceremony that works; we are asking for a farewell that feels worthy of everything we’ve given to this place.
Editorial Note: Information regarding the water availability during Commencement was provided to the Acorn by the University Commencement Committee after this opinion piece was published. The locations of existing water filling stations across campus will be highlighted on Commencement signage, there will be multiple additional water filling stations in Seminary Hall, and there will be a concessions area which will have beverages.
Gillian Sampson is a graduate student in the Masters of Education program.