MooOb
|
The silent graduation ... - 01/10/2008 12:52
When I was a young woman, college was considered an option, not a necessity, for most girls. Many thought of going to college as a desirable growing up experience and as a way to meet the right guy, the assumption being that youd then marry him as soon as he popped the question. At least, thats the way my parents viewed my college education.
When I came home for the summer after my freshman year in college, still single and with no immediate prospects of a potential husband in sight, my mother said, You know, we sent you away to school to find a nice man. And I had thought my folks wanted me to get an education possibly to earn a degree. Even though my grades had been good, in my moms eyes, I had failed or maybe I was just on marital probation, with the passing grade, an engagement ring, expected the following school year.
During high school, I had talked about going to a small local college. Mother was firmly against that and insisted that it was time I had the experience of living away from home. After her unexpected remark about my failure to land a mate during my first year away from college, I guessed what the real objection to the hometown college had been: She obviously thought that there werent enough or maybe the right kind of men at that small institution.
In my junior year at the university I did meet the man of my dreams and promptly dropped out of school to marry. Looking back, I cant recall a single negative remark from either of my parents about my decision to leave school. But then, Id done my job by finding that nice man, sparing them the embarrassment of having an unmarried daughter.
My new husband and I stayed in the campus town, and I worked while he continued his studies. Some said I was earning my P.H.T. (Putting Hubby Through) diploma, but no one faulted me for it. In those days, it was considered more important for the man to finish school, and truthfully, I was content.
As the years passed, I found that people assumed Id finished college. Even my kids thought I had a bachelors degree. I never intentionally misled anyone into believing I was a graduate, but neither did I say I was a dropout. Though I sometimes felt wistful about my absence of a degree, I never regretted marrying early.
When my youngest child was ten and I was forty-six, a local university began holding credit classes as a shopping mall a few miles from our house. This unusual concept made the front page of our metropolitan newspaper. Caught up in the excitement of the story, I immediately called the school for more information. When no one answered, I realized it was only six oclock in the morning and I kept calling back until someone answered the phone.
At the shopping centre classes, I met a number of people like myself: women with college credits who had never finished their schooling because theyd married and had children. Shirley was among those women, and she and I took several classes together over a period of years. Then Shirley had an accident that left her temporarily unable to drive. It looked as though she would have to drop out of school. I offered her rides, she accepted, and soon we became out-of-class friends.
Eventually, I shared my big dark secret with Shirley.
Those first classes I took at the mall were purely for enrichment. I didnt think getting a degree was possible at my age. Then, after a while, I realized I was piling up so many credits that I probably could earn my bacherlors after all. The school approved my course proposal, and I was on track for graduation.
Still, I didnt announce my degree plans to anyone but Shirley. She, too, was struggling with studies and understood that something might come along to keep me from finishing the requirements.
My last semester arrived. Now graduation was finally something I could count on. Though I was bursting to tell my husband, I decided it would be even more fun to surprise him. On graduation day, Id ask him to accompany me to the downtown ceremony. Perhaps Id tell him I was going to see a friend graduate and wanted him to escort me. At the last minute, I would whip out my cap and gown and enjoy seeing his shocked and happy expression.
Shirley and I talked about the graduation caper, and I knew she could keep the confidence. Then I got the bad news. That spring my song, Dave, who attended another university in the same city, also was graduating. I had looked forward to attending his commencement as much as I was anticipating my own. When I learned that his ceremony and mine were scheduled for the same day and even the same hour I was crushed.
Though I thought nothing could have kept me from attending my schools graduation programme, there was no way I would miss Daves big day. Shirley and I talked about the unfortunate conflict. She assured me I was doing the right thing. Sad as she would have been over missing her own graduation, she conceded that she, too, would have chosen one of her daughters graduations over her own.
Daves commencement day was a magical one. Our family had choice seats in the first row of the balcony, where we would get an overview of everything happening. During the recessional, I hung over the railing and caught his eye as he walked back up the aisle. My son gave me his biggest smile, and I was positive Id made the right choice. There wasnt a moment of regret for me that Sunday.
The day after Daves graduation, I came down from my motherly high. It had taken me thirty-two years to finish college, and fate had kept me from celebrating publicly. I had neither the diploma nor the keepsake programme to symbolize my accomplishment. Even though I would be able to pick them up later, it just wasnt the same as having them handed to you. Also, now that the surprise element was gone, I had to figure out how to break my academic news to my family. It was not a good Monday.
Then the mailman came, delivering an envelope with Shirleys return address. Inside was a card she had customized to say, Congratulations on Your Silent Graduation. I loved it.
Shirley had guessed how Id be feeling. She knew I wanted a little recognition for completing my degree. I looked at the card a number of times that day, and then tucked it into my box of treasures.
(A Degree of Friendship, Joanne Keaton, A Cup of Comfort for Friends)
|
บ้านนอก|เครือข่ายพุทธิกา
