Standing Ovation at Assemblies

The speaker steps away from the podium. Sparse applause follows. I reach for my backpack as the clapping abates, ready for the sweet release of two words: senior class. Suddenly, two students downstairs get up on their feet and clap more loudly than the entire hall had clapped just seconds ago. Then, a surge of upperclassmen stand. I try to remain seated but everyone upstairs gets up, too. Not wanting to seem disrespectful, I stand up and sling my backpack over my shoulder. The speaker wasn’t that bad, I guess. “Senior class!” Everyone runs for the stairs as they discuss what they’re going to get at Grill.

I can’t remember the last assembly I went to where we didn’t give the speaker a standing ovation.

Regardless, I will be honest: I don’t enjoy most assemblies. No doubt, the speakers are admirable, and we can draw inspiration from their lives, but not every accomplished person is an engaging public speaker.

It’s been said that Exonians don’t appreciate the assembly speakers that the school pays to give us a 20-minute lecture. After all, twice a week, we have the opportunity to learn from distinguished adults—often alumni—about how to be more successful, smart or non sibi. I’ve heard that we’re being ungrateful by dicking assemblies. Maybe they’re right. If it weren’t for a bi-weekly required appointment, or if we didn’t go to PEA, we would find these speakers distinguished and riveting.

Regardless, I will be honest: I don’t enjoy most assemblies. No doubt, the speakers are admirable, and we can draw inspiration from their lives, but not every accomplished person is an engaging public speaker. In fact, even the most incredible adults may seem boring or disinteresting to us when they ramble on about their own achievements and drill into our heads that we Exonians are the future leaders of the world. I know that most students feel the same way: bored, distracted and, above all, jaded. If you watch closely, you will notice how only a handful of people stand up and clap on their own will, while most of us look around before reluctantly joining in, already forgetting about the lecture and checking our phones instead.

I’m not sure, then, how it became a pattern that no matter what the student body thinks of the lecture, the speaker receives a standing ovation. Since they haven’t been to any other assemblies, the speakers likely think they’re special enough to receive the universal gesture of outstanding recognition from us.

A notable exception to my criticism is Exeter’s reception of more engaging speakers such as Viet Thanh Nguyen. As soon as he stepped away from the microphone, the entire crowd rose up and provided thunderous applause without hesitation. But what was more important was the fact that his speech sparked praise and discussion afterwards. Within 20 minutes, Nguyen had narrated personal experiences, shared his unique viewpoints and sustained everyone’s attention with wit and humor. For once, people genuinely connected with him.

Doesn’t Nguyen’s inspiring presence, then, deserve an exceptional reaction distinguishable from the reception of blander, less-appreciated speakers? Why can’t we simply offer a generous round of applause to most speakers as a way of showing our gratitude and respect?

None of us should feel pressured to stand up just because someone else did so and we are scared to be perceived as disrespectful. In fact, it’s nearly impossible to elicit an actual consensus in support of a speaker from an ideologically diverse group of teenaged critical thinkers. Standing ovations should be reserved only for those by whom feel personally moved.

The moment even a small section of the student body that wasn’t inspired by the talk stands up to clap, the standing ovation at any Exeter assembly loses all meaning. It’s incredulous that Exeter’s student body, proud of its intelligence and ideological diversity, thoughtlessly sends messages of unanimous awe twice a week.

Let’s make our standing ovations rare and genuine.