Graduation is the first day of the rest of your life, by which I mean “Ha ha, you have to be an adult now.” Not that I would know. I got my Political Science degree in 2006 but began law school that fall, so I’ve staved off adulthood at least until I get my Juris Doctor in 2009, and possibly until after medical school and barber college.

But if you’re an outgoing senior, you should be proud of yourself that you showed up to class often enough to not fail out. No one understands better than me how hard it is to crawl out of bed every morning at 2 p.m.

You’ve done a lot in your time in college. For instance, you ignored every single list you’ve seen telling you the 10 or 50 or 3,517 things to do before you graduate. I remember reading one of those lists my first day here back in 2002. “Climb the Alma Mater,” it said. I opted instead to drink beer at my fraternity. “Catch an improv comedy show at the Union,” it said. I opted instead to drink beer in my apartment. “Drink beer at Kams,” it said. I opted instead to drink beer at bars that don’t smell like pee and death.

The most talked about, and least performed, item on those lists is always “Play Frisbee on the Quad.” Whoever writes these lists is convinced this is something normal college students actually do. In a school of more than 30,000 students, on any given afternoon there are exactly three people playing Frisbee on the Quad. I suspect it is always the same three people, and that they’ve been out there every day since 1975. They’ve been doing it since the days when your parents never played Frisbee on the Quad.

But graduation isn’t a time to fixate on the lame stuff you didn’t do. It’s a time to reflect, mainly on why 27 different people bought you a copy of Dr. Seuss’s “Oh The Places You’ll Go!” But you can also reflect on some of the finest (drunkest) moments of your life. If you’re embarrassed of how many of your best college memories happened while you were intoxicated, you’re probably mature enough to handle the real world. If you’re proud, you either have some growing up to do and should take an extra year, or you didn’t drink enough and should take an extra year.

Regardless, you soon-to-be-graduates have one week left on campus, and you’d better enjoy it, because after that you’re moving back in with your parents. You will rediscover all the wonderful aspects of your hometown, or at least the ones you can see from the drive-through window at your job. Ha ha, I am just kidding, unless you are a philosophy major.

In reality you are probably moving into a tiny, big-city apartment that you can’t possibly afford. But don’t worry about that! If they turn off your heat, you can burn your extra copies of “Oh The Places You’ll Go!” for warmth. You will go from being very important – say, as a respected past social chair of your fraternity – to the lowest on the totem pole at whichever company thought your GPA was on a three-point scale.

The milestones of life are ahead of you now. You will find the right person, get married and have children, though possibly not in that order. There will be bills to pay, mouths to feed and parole officers to lie to. You will no longer have to listen to your parents.

Of course, you will wind up listening to them anyway, out of both habit and a fear that, without their expert guidance, you might say something to make your grandparents disinherit you.

It’s exciting to head out, no safety harness, just you against the world. It will be what you make of it, and you can achieve your dreams. Just like it says in that classic Dr. Seuss book, “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.”

Scott is a second-year law student. He dedicates this column to his sister, Amy, of whom he is very proud.