Yesterday, I graduated from College of the Canyons with the class of 2013. If you take time to read the statistics, you’ll find that graduating students ranged from age 17 to 68, a span of 51 years. Interesting, because I started (what was then called) junior college at age 18 and have finished at age 59.
Forty-two years. When I completed the requirements for my Associate’s Degree back in December, the counselor asked if I would be “walking” at the once-a-year graduation ceremony in May. Without a moment’s hesitation I confirmed that yes, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I mean, after all this time, all this effort, I deserve to don that cap and gown and be recognized, right? But as the days grew closer to my big event, I began to feel a vague uneasiness. It was the same kind of discomfort I felt the first time I stepped into a classroom at COC, taking a seat amongst a room full of late-teens and early-twenties. As I joined that group of 600+ students in the Aliso quad, what would I do? To whom would I talk, gab with, excitedly anticipating the grand walk down the concrete steps into the Honor Grove? Who would tell me if my cap was on straight? Laugh with me at the hysterical goofiness of my fellow classmates?
I needn’t have worried. A young woman named Brandi happened to stand close by and we chatted. She seemed to want someone to stand beside as well, so we moved around together, deciding where the best place would be. We exchanged that minor bit of info, her major, mine, plans after COC, etc. She wasn’t a day over twenty, if that. But she was friendly, kind and also anticipatory. We sat together during the graduation and exchanged jokes about the speeches, the weather, the other students. Thank you, Brandi, for not caring that I finished high school twenty-some years before you were born. You are a charming girl and I wish you the best.
Three memorable—dare I say profound?—statements were made to me yesterday that really struck me. The first was spoken as I crossed the stage and was met by Chancellor Diane Van Hook as she took my hand in congratulations. I squeezed her hand, emotional, thrilled, accomplished, and I thanked her “so much.” I didn’t say what for, assuming it was obvious; Chancellor Van Hook embodies all that is great about College of the Canyons, and I hold her in the highest esteem. She made the school what it is today, and I am enormously grateful. But she tilted her head down and smiled and said, “No, you shouldn’t be thanking us. You’re the one who accomplished this. We should be thanking you.” Wow.
My two sons were in the audience, along with my husband, my sister and another family friend, all of whom had taken the day off from work to see me graduate. One of my sons stayed just until after I received my faux diploma, then he had to go on to work in Glendale. I texted him from my phone, thanking him for coming. He texted back to me, “I’m proud of you!” Wow. Imagine, my child is proud of me.
After all the hoopla had passed, we traveled to my favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch. I waxed sentimental in the back seat with my sis, saying how I wished our mom and dad could have seen me. I joked about my lengthy college career. My sister nodded, then said, “Today you put a period on the sentence you began speaking forty-two years ago.” I looked at her in awe. “Where’d you get that? Reader’s Digest?” She just shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seemed right.” Damn. (We are some talented writers, eh?)
What does being a college graduate mean to me? Many things. One, I finished something I started. An important something. I’ve been deemed by a great school to have a well-rounded education in a subject I enjoy. One I live. I’ve learned lots of new stuff, made some new friends, taught others, shared joy. I’ve been a positive example to others. I’ve proven that you can go back, that there is always more to do, to see, to learn.
COC is like a big family. I’ve been invited back. I can still take classes, sit in on film screenings, teach in the tutorial lab, attend programs and seminars. Somehow, I think I will still find myself there from time to time, despite the fact that my tassel has move to the left side of my forehead.
Congrats Pam!