Nontraditional Commencement
I'm sitting on my couch after logging out of a regular day of remote work, but I'm also celebrating, because today, I graduated.
I hesitate to date myself, but my high school graduating class just announced our 20 year reunion. It's been 18 years since I graduated with an associate degree in Early Childhood Education. And it's been a little over 18 months since I started working on a bachelor’s degree. Thanks to summer and winter break classes, I was able to complete two years of college credits in just over a year and a half. And now, I'm finally finished.
In this moment, I'm a mix of feelings: personal satisfaction in my accomplishment, relief that the endless evenings of schoolwork are over, regretful twinges of perfectionism wishing I had taken better notes so I could retain more of what I learned, gratefulness for the opportunity to reach this milestone, and general exhaustion.
Commencement itself was anticlimactic. File this under Ways to make higher education more inclusive: online graduation. You would think—especially in this post-quarantine world where the past two years have seen incredible gains in virtual connectivity—that a public university offering fully online degrees and courses would have a virtual option to celebrate the completion of said degrees. But when I asked my advisor if I could attend the live ceremony virtually, I found out that online students only count if they travel to the campus for commencement. "Due to time restrictions, only those present at the ceremony will have their name announced. There are no other virtual options at this time," she wrote back. Remote graduation, apparently, means checking my mailbox for an envelope with my diploma in 4 to 6 weeks.
Originally, I wanted to attend commencement in person. Doing so would have allowed me to walk the campus that I've never seen. I could visit the university where I've served as President of Tau Sigma Honor Society. I could meet my professors face-to-face. I could invite my family to beam with pride at the sight of me achieving my goals, all symbolized by the conferment of a glorified piece of paper and my cap-and-gown-clad march.
But life had other plans. I just moved halfway across the country, and while I was never geographically close, I'm now 800 miles away from my college campus. Financially, we're figuring out the mortgage, utilities, and buying all the things we need to make the new house a home. I'm even busier than usual at work as I prepare to onboard some new team members. And oh, I'm also seven months pregnant. All that to say, it's not an ideal time to travel.
If I had chosen to do so anyway, it would have been a much more exciting weekend: the commencement planning panel for the College of Letters, Arts, and Social Sciences (a.k.a. CLASS) invited me to be the class banner bearer, walking in front of the CLASS graduates and leading them into the stadium, carrying our college banner. I was honored, but I had to decline. With pregnancy-induced varicose veins and a watermelon-sized abdomen, walking and carrying things are not my strong suits at the moment. Thus, I'm sitting on my couch with my feet up and a laptop displaying my transcript, thinking back on the journey to get to this moment.
We never know how our words—positive or negative, uplifting or derogatory—can affect someone else's life. I distinctly remember two instances relevant to my education that influenced the emotions I feel today. I don't take it for granted that I grew up with parents who encouraged and supported me, both emotionally and financially. I know I'm fortunate that school came easily to me. With the possible exception of elementary school gym class, I was always a straight-A student. (Dodging Nerf balls was never an area of excellence for me.) I had good SAT scores and a healthy number of extra-curricular achievements. I could probably have gone on to a reasonably prestigious college.
And while I'm sure plenty of praise was sent my way, what I remember more distinctly is my high school AP English literature teacher— the one who handed me three different award certificates at Senior Awards night—essentially telling me that I was throwing my life away by choosing to live at home, commute to a local school, and get a two year degree in teaching preschool.
Despite my teacher's discouraging words, that was the right choice for me at the time. Unlike my peers who pursued more traditional higher education, I graduated in two years with no student loans or debt. I got married, had children, and had the opportunity to be a full-time mom for more than a decade—which was exactly what I wanted to do. Homemaking and homeschooling my children was my dream job, and simultaneously the hardest job I've done to date. It was a learning experience no college course could ever simulate.
Later in that chapter of my life, when I no longer had babies waking me up all night, I started to think about going back to school. I have always enjoyed writing and I’ve been told that I’m a good writer, so I planned to major in Communications. I researched a handful of undergraduate colleges, applied to the one that seemed like the best fit, and received my acceptance letter. My spouse of the time, however, wouldn’t agree to it. In his perspective, getting a degree would be the first step toward me finding work outside of the home and earning my own money so I wouldn't be reliant on him as a provider. He refused to pay the tuition, effectively ending my fleeting thoughts of continuing education. Note: the unhealthy relationship dynamic of my first marriage is not the purpose of this post; I mention that incident only because now, years later, when I'm paying for my own degree while working full-time and enjoying a loving marriage to an incredibly supportive husband, it makes me all the more grateful to be where I am today.
What I learned in college will have to be a topic for another day, as will the answer to whether or not it was worth it. For now, the headline is: I did it. By the grace of God, the encouragement of loved ones, and a stubborn persistence, I earned a four year degree. I didn’t overcome insurmountable odds, but I pushed forward even when it was challenging to reach this moment.
Looking back, I feel accomplished knowing that I maintained a 4.0 GPA while working full-time and hitting a half dozen life milestones. I independently studied for and tested out of a general education mathematics course when my transfer geometry credit didn’t count. I became a member of multiple honor societies, including Phi Kappa Phi, the most prestigious honor society available at my school. I led the Tau Sigma honor society for transfer students over Zoom to keep it alive during the tail end of pandemic-restrictions; I even attended a national conference with other student leaders. I tracked every minute that I spent on school work, so that at the end of my 19 months of online classes, I would know that it took no less than 703 hours of my life to get there.
And so, on this Friday the 13th, the undergraduate chapter of my life concludes. While I don’t yet have the official piece of paper to prove it, I graduated: summa cum laude, with a Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology and a concentration in Psychology of the Workplace. It’s time for the next chapter to commence, and I’m thankful.
When we evaluate our lives—whether it’s education, our careers, our family, or other life circumstances—we don’t have to let the past dictate our future. It’s (almost) never too late to pursue a new goal. Commencement means a new beginning; a fresh start. Today is my college commencement, but every day is an opportunity to begin something new.
- MJ
Life of You
Have you started a new career path, professional training, or education in a nontraditional way? What has your experience been like?