Reflections by Sandra Malatesta. Graduation celebrations.

Sandra Malatesta | Times change: fashions, habits, and so many other things change. And I love to follow the times as they change; I don't remain stuck in what I did "in my day," even though I love to tell—and tell again—about those days when it took so little to be happy.

I remember miniskirts being all the rage in the 1960s, and many of us wanted a Beatles hat. Some got it, others didn't, but it was part of the era, and there was nothing wrong with that.

Today, students go to their final exams knowing that, once they leave, their parents or friends will be waiting for them with flowers, sparkling wine, and lots of hugs.

And that's okay. We didn't have any of this, but we didn't feel different either, because none of us had anything—and that feeling of being all the same made us feel at peace.

Things have changed.

But have you ever thought about what happens if, by chance, a boy or girl leaves school and finds no one waiting for them? If it was their choice, that's fine. But if they also wanted flowers, champagne, a hug... and then go home pretending nothing happened, I don't think that's a good thing.

So what's the point of a new cell phone, money in your pocket, designer shoes?

I'm convinced that many of these young people have strong foundations: families who support them, listen to them, and guide them. And so, for them, a laurel wreath or a bouquet of flowers doesn't change the value of their being.

But even if they give the black cap in kindergarten, or a small ceremony is organized at the end of elementary school—maybe not everywhere, but it happens—I see it only as a sweet moment, a symbolic conclusion, with happy children hugging each other.

Why not? Happiness is good, always has been. It makes us better. Those who are happy have no need to attack or do harm.

And here, surely, someone will attack me, saying that these are not moments of “true,” “lasting” happiness.

But many small moments of happiness, added together, make a more peaceful life.

I've even heard people trained in psychology criticize these festive rituals. "Study shouldn't be rewarded," they say. "You study for yourself, not for gifts or parties."

Oh my goodness, how many times have I heard this refrain. My generation too.

I studied for myself, I didn't receive gifts. But I don't think, for that reason, I'm better than those who receive joy, hugs, and affection at the end of a journey.

I see these young people as full of dreams and goals. They speak at least two languages, they travel, they study, they graduate. Their world knows no bounds.

I've watched them grow. I see them leave school happy, and I'm happy myself. I see them graduate, surrounded by love and beautiful things.

Can I share something personal? When I graduated, very young, just after earning a Doctor of Science degree, my husband and I rushed to the port to catch the last ferry: our newborn son had a high fever.

At first I didn't think about it, but then... I missed that laurel wreath, the sparkling wine, the flowers.

Like when I got married: I cried so much because I no longer had my father to walk me down the aisle.

I'm increasingly convinced that those who love studying will do so, with or without awards. But I'm equally convinced that it's beautiful, it's right, to celebrate life's milestones.

Especially today, when so many young people seem disoriented, withdrawing into themselves, living on the margins, often due to profound distress, including bullying, which they perhaps don't talk about at home to avoid worrying their parents.

There are already enough problems around. Criticizing these small, big parties, in my opinion, is really pointless.