Throughout my lifetime so far, I’ve attended many graduations — my own three (from high school, from UNL with my B.A., and from Wayne State with my M.S.), my children’s, a few other family members’, and my students’ numerous ones. That time of year is upon us again, but, for once in my life, I’m not planning on attending any graduations this May.
The first photo is from my daughter’s high school graduation in 2017 when she was the valedictorian of her class. She’s giving her valedictory speech in it. The photo below is of my son and me at his college graduation (also in 2017) from Wayne State where he received his education degree and certification to teach K-12 P.E. and health. The third photo is of my daughter at her graduation from UNL two years ago with her degree in biology.
She will graduate in August from ETSU in Johnson City, Tennessee, with her master’s degree in paleontology, but she will begin her career in that field in June in South Dakota.
Graduation is a funny thing.
Let’s first look at the two words we use for it — graduation and commencement. Neither is a good word for the event, in my opinion.
Graduation deals with the levels through which something goes. Commencement literally means the “beginning” of something, but no student I ever taught viewed the word “commencement” as the “beginning” of something. They all saw it as the “ending” of something, and when I would try to teach the word “commence” in English class or the word “comenzar” (which means “to begin”) in Spanish class, I never got anywhere with them by trying to connect the word to “commencement” to signify a “beginning.”
But that’s what it really is. Commencement is the beginning of your real life.
Once you graduate, that school where you spent all that time no longer really cares about you, and you aren’t welcome — not in the way you were when you were a student, at least.
I witnessed it over and over as a teacher for thirty years. Just when a student had reached the pinnacle of his high school accomplishments and gained some renown, it was time to graduate, and while those accomplishments would always be a part of his life, they don’t carry any real significance beyond the high school walls. Those leadership roles, touchdowns, trophies, good grades, wrestling pins, speech medals, etc. are meaningless to college professors, bosses, co-workers, etc. Those people may be interested to hear about them, but if he brings them up too often, people will tire of listening to him and begin to avoid him.
This is why you see far too many guys who peaked in high school and who are unable to move on and do anything substantial with their lives after it. The place that was their sanctuary and where they stood out as being a “somebody” kicked them out at graduation. All those great activities and sports that they were a part of stopped, and they found themselves without a purpose in their lives.
As a teacher it was a strange experience, too. I’d spend anywhere from four to six years teaching kids who suddenly were no longer a part of my days or even my life. I’d come to care about them and enjoyed seeing them each day, and then they were just gone. There are students who left the area immediately after graduating years ago who I haven’t seen since the day of their graduation; yet, when they were my students, they were an important part of my daily routine.
I’d often tell seniors that they wouldn’t be remembered in the school beyond a couple years from their graduation. Some wouldn’t believe me, but I had a slew of photos of past students that covered the back wall of my classroom, and I’d point to students from a few years ago and ask them if they knew those kids — they never did. In fact, I think it shocked them to imagine that other students, years and years worth of other students, had ever sat in my classroom prior to them.
I taught long enough, though, that some of my later students saw photos of their own parents on my back wall. I got out of there before they started seeing photos of their grandparents, though! It was coming, believe me.
Since my daughter will leave Tennessee soon and move to South Dakota to begin her job prior to her graduation, she won’t attend the actual ceremony in August. That makes me a little sad because I would have liked to have watched her walk across the stage and receive her Master’s Degree, but the real reward is what is going to commence for her in June — the start of her career.
When I left teaching, that’s when I had my own true Commencement. That happened two years ago this May. I began the career and journey that I should have begun thirty-two years ago — my life as a writer.
Yes, I touched a lot of lives as a teacher, and I made a difference. This I know, but the passion was always with the words.
I say this even as I struggle to finish writing my sixth novel. Ha ha. The passion is there, but the story isn’t coming together just yet. It will, though, I have no doubts.
I recently took part in the Nebraska Writers Guild spring conference, and it always opens with writing sprints. Those are twenty minutes of writing followed by a ten minute break and then another twenty minutes of writing, and we do those for a few hours. During the twenty minutes, you’re just supposed to write — no editing, no stopping, just write.
I took advantage of those sprints to try to write a portion of my novel that I envision happening later in the story. While I know you won’t completely understand what’s happened prior to it, I would like to share what I wrote with my paying subscribers and get any feedback you’d care to give me.
If you’re not a paying subscriber and would like to become one, I’d really appreciate it. Until next week.
Tammy Marshall
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