He sank back down in his wobbly foldout chair and unfurled the scroll in his hands. He was hoping to see the same thing as every other newly-minted college graduate gathered here today – a signed diploma.
His piece of parchment, however, was blank. No name in black ink, no decorative school emblem, no fancy words written in Latin.
Fair enough, he thought. He’d done close to nothing in his four years on campus. Few classes attended, even fewer assignments completed.
But the real test was waiting in the bleachers. He waved over at his beaming parents.
What to tell them…
The Weekday One Hundred 