I was wearing a black and white polka dot dress and trying to negotiate a compromise between my graduation cap and my hair. My parents and family were there, as well as my boyfriend who would later become my husband. Pictures, dinner, speeches, an empty diploma case, and plenty of applause and drama. My hard work, my lack of social life for three years, and the many, many nights I ended up listening to Hawaii Five-O–the song they played to kick everyone out of the library at the end of the night. Professors who inspired me–that wonderful man who let us research independently then write our own essay questions on tests, while inspiring excellence. A grad student who let me take tests in the Lazy Boy in his office, so I could manage his test after knee surgery. Having two deaf professors explain what it means to have a different natural language than their own parents. Arguing with professors about books, working tirelessly on a poem to receive no response other than a check mark. Study groups, all nighters, mixed in volleyball; time in the gym, coach tap dancing after conference championship, hours in a gym . . . Graduation was a beautiful culmination of my experience at college.
I have frequently pondered what we applaud for . . . it is absolutely worth applauding for college graduates. That is an accomplishment. Generally there is a bigger cheer for a grown person who can throw a round ball in a basket, especially when time is running out.
A Graduate Degree in Life’s Trials
This article is for the people who have earned a life graduate degree. Something about their uniqueness in their own life or that of their loved ones has slapped them across the face and demanded they learn. Learn to live blind and deaf, learn to completely change your diet, learn all of the medical terms and tests require to monitor a medical condition, learn how wheel chairs work, learn alternate uses for BOTOX or barometric chambers, learn how to educate or just live with a child who sees the world in a fundamentally different way. Learning how to negotiate with your own mother about medication and doctor’s appointments and whether or not she can still drive. Learn how to live on even less sleep as you travel from doctor to doctor to find someone who will use all of their experience and wisdom and borrow half of your passion and motivation to find solutions.
Everyone has something. Or many somethings. Life lessons that require much more than my bachelor’s degree ever did. A self-discipline and selflessness we seldom associate with college life. A desperation for knowledge that rivals your desperation for oxygen- because the consequences and solutions born of that learning will be just as life-saving.
I have seen a family adjust their whole lives to discover how to care for and seek healing for their injured daughter. I’ve seen 
families learn all about chemo and pic lines and monitors and surgeries and weighing odds- even though you purposely chose not to study medicine up until that point. I’ve seen my mother in law learn how to lift and care for her recently paralyzed husband. I’ve seen a mother fight for her daughter all the way to the Supreme Court, so she could get the education she deserves. I’ve seen a friend love her husband through a brain injury, and mother learn to feed a child with a unique facial structure.
There is learning that involves textbooks and is motivated by the fear of an upcoming multiple choice test. We clap for that. There is learning that involves joy because of unique interest and passion. We clap for that. There is also learning motivated by love and desperation. There is no syllabus and textbook. Just life staring you straight in the eye and demanding an answer. A person who knows all too well of the reality of the situation but clings relentlessly to hope. You aren’t perfect, you know you don’t know everything, but you wake up in the morning and try and search and work, and pay bills and do laundry somehow. Here I am. Clapping.
Caregivers Deserve Applause
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I wish we could have a stadium full of people applauding. I know you are too busy to come to any dramatic thing, and most likely you aren’t “done”. You probably don’t want a stage because it might feel too much like a pedestal, and you need hugs too much to risk the separation. I know you would trade the recognition for a great support group, a mentor, a cure, therapy or even just a diagnosis. On most days you would trade it for a nap. I wish I had all of that to give. Since I don’t, I wish to give you a hug and credit. Here is your honorary graduate degree. You know you’ve put in the time. You know you have the knowledge even though you don’t have a transcript to prove it. You pulled all-nighters. You did your research on subjects you never wanted to know. You have become an expert on your specific situation. Thank you. You inspire me along in my own unique education process. You amaze me. Bless you.
http://youtu.be/TTSFGiJm7qY
Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa.
With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill.
She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests.
She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.
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