A Rite of Passage
My 18-year-old son Nicholas and I were chatting the other night about graduations. He said he didn’t understand why people make such a big deal over “those ceremonies” and that the only reason he attended his was because I expected him to. He said graduations are “all pomp and circumstance” and really the focus should be on the accomplishment itself. With a little shock and a lot of disappointment, I told him that he sounded like a spoiled, privileged kid. He took offense, “What do you mean I sound spoiled and privileged? I am neither of those things!” Calmly, I looked at my sweet son and explained that for many, the opportunity to share in the success of completing something they and their peers worked hard for was a reason to celebrate. The act of wearing a cap and gown and crossing the stage is symbolic. For many, it is a rite of passage. For single moms, it’s even more.
I will always remember, with great fondness, my graduation from Loyola Marymount University in the spring of 1996. I finished my coursework in December of 1995, and began working immediately thereafter. While many of my peers were still taking courses that last semester, experiencing their “final” spring break in places like Palm Springs, or San Felipe, Baja California, I started my career as a teacher, subbing in local schools while deciding on my next move. Anthony was turning 4 that March and I was extremely excited that we might have an opportunity to move out of my parent’s house and I would begin my life as a “real” adult. Everything was falling in to place. And, in all of the plans I made; career, housing, purchasing a car, the most important to me was my graduation day in May. It was a priority for Anthony and me to attend. I wanted to make sure he heard my name called, saw me cross the stage, and celebrated this as his accomplishment as much as mine. He was still very young, but I knew the experience would leave an indelible impression on him, leaving a blueprint for him to follow as he grew up.
Raise the Barr scholarship recipient Bianca Scott at her graduation from Metropolitan State
When you are a student with a dependent, your achievements are as much your child’s as they are yours, and vice versa. All of the sacrifices of time; late nights of study, hours away at work, missed milestones like finding the first tooth, or seeing the first steps taken, answering questions about why you’re always gone, or hearing the comments about “hating school” because that’s the place that takes you away from home. The time away from your little one is a major sacrifice. But, accepting the feelings of guilt, and dealing with the pain of missed time, a student with a dependent persists because she knows it’s a means to an end. Graduating with a post-secondary degree comes with a price, but the future opportunity that is created with that degree is worth it. Experiencing the culmination of all that time and hard work is an outward demonstration of determination, fortitude, and commitment. That is something worth celebrating.
In preparing this week’s post, I asked Anthony if he remembered my graduation day. To my surprise, he said he did! He said the most vivid memory was that the ceremony was long. This made me laugh because, I too, remember it being long. He went on to say he remembers feeling happy because he knew I did something good. The atmosphere was party-like and our entire family was in attendance. He remembers balloons, music, smiles everywhere, lots of cheering, and applause. He remembers that after the “long” ceremony, he spotted me running towards him, then lifting him high in the air. He took off my cap and put it on his head and we smiled for the cameras, flooded with emotions, we laughed and we cried. To my 4-year-old little boy, this day was a giant party celebrating something “good” and 23 years later, it elicits a visceral reaction. That’s powerful.
Unfortunately, for this year’s graduates, experiencing this momentous occasion won’t quite be the same. No large crowds. No crossing the stage. No names called over the public address system. No gatherings or parties with all your favorite people. There won’t be a photo of you and the chancellor handing you a diploma case embossed with the name of your school on the front. A Zoom graduation ceremony is nice, but honestly will not be the same.
However, here is what you will have: the satisfaction of knowing that you completed the journey, despite ALL of the obstacles you faced along the way. Lack of money, time, and sleep, at times didn’t have enough food to put on your table or struggled to keep a roof over your head. You dealt with isolation, judgment, professors who failed to empathize with the fact you had to miss a class because you had a sick kid at home, or the times you had to take your little one to class because you didn’t have a babysitter, and late nights at a local coffee shop or in the library where internet was available. You faced self-doubt and questioned why you were doing this instead of just working and having time to be with your child. But, after each test, after each course ended, after another semester passed, you inched closer to completion, you persisted. When so much of life was against you, you looked straight ahead, held the chubby hand of your favorite little person in the world, and said, “We can do this!” So, while your celebration might not include pomp and circumstance, it will include you and your kid(s). I guess Nicholas was right, that’s what matters most.
To all you single parents out there who are graduating this month or next, congratulations on doing the unexpected! You and your child(ren) deserve a standing ovation, fireworks, confetti, and recognition for your dedication, persistence, and drive. Even though this year’s ceremony will look a lot different from year’s prior, the accomplishment is the same and you should be proud of yourselves. We are. Congratulations from your Raise The Barr Family.