Advice to future grads: When they say, "Be there exactly at 7:00 am or you won't make it into the procession line and we'll have to bring you in late, where your tardiness will be announced by the president of the university and your graduation hat will be replaced by a be-tasseld dunce cap," they are LYING.
I'm standing in line now, typing this entry on my phone. It's 8:00, and we just barely started the procession 10 minutes ago.
I came at 7:00, and milled around with the other History majors, my robe zipped up, the tassel on the right side, and two stoles of gratitude around my neck for the two people who have done priceless work to get me here today.
Around 7:10, Julie (whom I am pretty sure is the same Julie that has been emailing me announcements about History events that I never go to for the past 5 years) handed out name cards for all of us.
At 7:20 they divided us up by History and History Teaching.
At 7:30 I switched my tassel to the left side, signifying I am now a college graduate. That was an intense ceremony. It went something like this:
Julie: "Your tassel goes on the left side."
Me: "But I'm not done graduating yet."
Julie: "Well, I don't know, but that's what they said."
Me: "Oh, okay." **switch tassel**
At 7:40 they had us line up for the procession.
At 7:41 my family came. That was the best part. My mom put a lei around my neck - bright pink orchids - and kissed both my cheeks. Sophie threw up her hands and yelled, "Mila!" (her name for me... no clue where she came up with it, but I think she made it up because my mom is Nana, her parents call me Auntie Banana and everyone else calls me Auntie Savannah, and it was just confusing.) We took some pictures, including a few with me and my parents, and some with Sophie, and then it was 7:50 and the procession started moving.
As we walked slowly down the stairs and along the road, that sense of accomplishment washed over me. Standing there in my robes, surrounded by graduating men and women, walking slowly in a traditional procession, I felt that twinge of history - for hundreds of years men and women (especially in more recent years for the women) have spent countless hours studying at universities, doing just what I spent the last five years doing (with time-period-sensitive variations, of course), and at the end of those years they have dressed in robes and marched in a line to receive their diplomas, just as I am doing now.
I am now a piece of that. Those hundreds of years are now embedded in my own life, my own history.
It's just after 9:00 now. I spent the talks typing this and writing on my 2 stoles. One is for my mom. She taught me to read when I was a toddler. When I was eight she told me to stop daydreaming and suggested I write down those stories instead - the catalyst that set me in my career and dream to be a writer. She taught me discipline and hard work, making me do extra chores to earn my spending money, rather than just handing out an arbitrary allowance. She taught me everything I needed to get me to college and then provided priceless support throughout the whole thing. I learned to teach myself through her tireless efforts homeschooling me and my brothers, and I know I would have never done so well here without that. She edited my papers, listened as I called her every single day during my freshman year just to tell her what I'd learned that day, and practically took my creative writing courses with me.
The second stole is for my dad. He's the only tutor I ever had. He taught me binary when I was in first grade (and retaught it to me in highschool) and got me through math. When I was in highschool he'd come downstairs after everyone else had gone to bed, find me on the couch with my math book and papers, sit next to me and walk me through my school work. He did that all through chapter five of algebra (factoring), and through the entire first unit of geometry. It was in those late nights that I relearned binary just for fun, and found out what an ID-10-T is, thereby earning my nerd card. When I came out to college, he literally bought his own copy of my calculus textbook so he could get me through that class with an A. I spent more time in private tutoring with him than I ever spent in a professor's office.
With messages to my parents written on my stoles, and the stoles placed back around my neck, I was ready to go. In a few more minutes we were escorted to line up to receive our diplomas. We walked past a lady who made sure our collars were straight (pretty sure she had no clue what to do with my lei), got our pictures taken, and walked on stage. The history chair guy handed me my diploma (pause for another picture!) and I walked off the stage as a graduate.
I am now graduated from BYU.
