Russ: Norway’s No-Holds-Barred Graduation Party (Yes, It’s Real)
In Norway, graduating high school isn’t just about caps and gowns—it’s a month-long, mildly chaotic explosion of teenage freedom called Russ. Imagine prom, spring break, a road trip, and a costume party had a Norwegian baby… then fed it sugar and energy drinks for 30 days straight. Starting in late April and rolling all the way through Syttende Mai (Norway’s Constitution Day), students throw on color-coded overalls—red for general studies, blue for business, green for agriculture, and so on—and go full send. They deck these things out with patches, graffiti, and nicknames that probably won’t help them get a job later. Then they hand out Russ cards, which are basically joke business cards with fake titles like “Minister of Nap Time” and photos that scream, “No, I will not be running for office.”
Now, the party buses and vans? That’s where it gets serious. These kids start planning in ninth grade—yes, ninth—fundraising like they’re hosting the Super Bowl. They drop as much as half a million kroner (about $50,000 USD) on a rolling nightclub with bass speakers that could shake the fjords loose. They paint them with names like “Vodka Viking” or “Math is for Quitters” and then cruise around town like Norwegian rock stars. If you’re wondering whether this sounds like a bad idea: yes, but somehow it works.
Of course, it’s not all just dancing and engine fumes. Russ earn “knots”—little tokens for completing dares ranging from goofy (spend the night in a tree) to the kind you don’t want to explain to grandma. And yes, there’s alcohol. A lot of it. It’s Norway’s way of saying, “Congrats on finishing school, here’s a legally questionable month of madness.” One Norwegian I met told me her Russ year “sucked” because it was during COVID, so they had to party over Zoom—which is like throwing a kegger in a library. And just when you think they’ve peaked? Boom—final exams. Yep, these sleep-deprived, possibly hungover teens are expected to snap back into scholar mode. But somehow, they do. And through all the noise, knots, and nonsense, Russ remains a uniquely Norwegian rite of passage that’s as unforgettable as it is completely insane.