Graduation

I can't believe I almost considered skipping the graduation ceremony. The cost of purchasing regalia seemed unnecessary and this practical gal figured it was unnecessary. Then I thought about the non-traditional nature of my graduate program: attending classes on weekends in a strip mall in Des Moines and having virtually no contact with the bricks-and-mortar institution where I was enrolled. At last, I decided to fill out the paperwork and go through the traditional ceremony.

When graduation day arrived at the end of a busy proseminar week, I felt a tremendous sense of anticipation and excitement. My classmates and I helped each other into our gowns, solved the mystery of how to put on our master's hoods, and adjusted our caps properly. I checked my cell phone several times in anticipation of my family's arrival. They were making the four-hour drive that morning in time for the commencement.

As the graduating class lined up to process, I spotted my parents, husband and sons approaching me. After years of attending and celebrating my children's events, it felt so special to have a day marking something I had accomplished.

The Viterbo faculty seemed to celebrate along with us. They were so intentional about displaying hospitality as part of the Fransiscan values of the university. I felt a new sense of appreciation for this small university I had chosen. The emotions bubbled up inside me and flowed down my cheeks throughout the commencement. It was so unlike me to cry; usually at sentimental occasions I have the only dry eyes in the place. When tears come like this, they totally catch me off guard. I was armed with only half a kleenex for clean-up.

When I climbed the stairs to the stage and received my diploma, there were several people with which to shake hands. One of them was a tiny little nun from the Viterbo convent. I choked up again when she called me by name as she took my hand. I marveled at the way she must have been listening closely to each name and tracking the graduates as they walked across the stage. She is just one of several sisters who keep a 24 hour prayer vigil in the university's chapel. One of our instructors told us that the sisters pray for us throughout our academic program, and that act of service and faith touched me.

While the speakers addressed the graduates, I mentally reviewed the past year: summer days spent at class, driving back and forth to Des Moines, nights and weekends spent writing papers, crunching numbers for my research, and neglecting my house and my family. I remembered all the Monday mornings I arrived at school, unprepared for the week of teaching because my weekend was spent studying. I could tell the faculty members truly understood what we had gone through as mothers, wives and teachers, trying to work full time, manage our family's needs and complete our graduate work. The auditorium was filled with hundreds of family members who were there to cheer for their daughters, wives and mothers.

The faculty exited first and formed an aisle for the graduates to walk through. They clapped and cheered for us during the recessional. Pride swelled through me again and I considered the meaning of "commencement": the end of one thing, but the beginning of a whole new chapter of life as a master teacher.