I graduated from undergrad 10 years ago today. Every major milestone in my life has been tempered by some major tragedy, personal or global. My graduation from teacher school was two days after Sandy Hook. I remember sitting in my hotel room in my college town (because I’d moved back home for student teaching and subsequent professional job) watching the coverage and weeping that I may have to one day make the decision to sacrifice my life for some else’s kid.
Part of the reason why I ended my teaching career is because I found myself in a situation where I actually had to make that decision. Of course, I put my body in between an armed assailant and a random student at my school, shielding a kid whose name I didn’t even know. It wasn’t until I was standing in front of the gigantic half-glass door after the lunatic was out of the room that I realized how much danger I was in, but the kids in the room were safe.
I could never feel safe in my last school, and do not think I can feel safe in any school again.
I don’t get to talk--or even think about, really--being the first of my family to graduate with a four-year degree. About how I graduated with a phenomenal GPA or won awards for my teaching as a student teacher because so much was going on.
After my graduation, there was a brief lunch and we drove home so my mother could get back to take care of my cancer-ridden grandmother who died a month later.
Needless to say, I just ordered my graduation pictures (because I have !none!) and am booking a first class trip for the graduation trip I never got.