Bittersweet Moments

Here’s to endings, new beginnings, and the people who guided us

This past Sunday was commencement at Vassar College. I know many folks who find these events, with their pomp and circumstance, unappealing. But I—even though I certainly seem like someone who would despise this kind of pageantry—love them. I’m pretty sure it is because I am the first generation in my family to attend college. And thus, all my commencement experiences—when I was receiving degrees or witnessing my students do so—have always felt incredibly special. The plumber’s daughter from New Jersey getting a PhD 23 years ago (and then many years later an MDiv, another “terminal” degree) felt like events that should be marked, celebrated, and savored if only because my family and ancestors never had access to such things.

I distinctly remember when we had to do an exit survey upon the completion of the PhD requirements, I wrote “Italian-American” in the ethnicity box since I was well aware back then that not many grandchildren of immigrants were getting that degree. I’m sure those numbers have changed now—at least I hope so—but I still deeply identify with being a “first generation” college student and find joy in connecting with my students today who themselves are the first in their family to go to college. 

Now, to be fair, teaching at a posh (ahem, elite) place like Vassar means that A LOT of my students come from quite a bit of privilege. Lots of my colleagues do too. But in my department, there are many faculty who are “first gens”  and in my classes, I see more and more “first gens” too. Not sure how statistically accurate my observations are (I honestly don’t know if the college is doing a good job of diversifying the student population) so maybe it’s that first-gen students like having a professor who can relate to their experience, and thus, we find one another. 

I was completely clueless when I went to a private college in 1986. I was out of my depths in so many ways. I didn’t have the study skills. I had no understanding of how university worked and no one to ask. I was surrounded by rich people and couldn’t relate (but I relied on the “fake it to you make it” mentality). And I had a real New Jersey accent that I worked on erasing immediately. My college did nothing to support first-generation students. I imagine the prevailing wisdom was that since you got into this fine institution, you should know what to do. Nope. Nowadays, many colleges thankfully have First Year Experience courses and other special programs to facilitate the transition to university. I was lucky enough this past fall to teach a First Year Writing Seminar and loved it!

In college, I was an abysmal student; more excited about being far away from New Jersey and drinking and boys and Making Bad Choices (that at the moment I didn’t quite realize were really bad) than studying and getting decent grades. Since my parents were clueless about college, they were of little help. (Plus, I am part of the generation that was ‘raised by wolves’; we were free range and out of control. Gen X, baby!) 

I was a Biology major, and as any STEM major will tell you, pursuing a degree in the sciences is an absurd amount of work. I struggled to pass classes—not because I was stupid, but because I was a ding dong. (Again - focused on booze and fun rather than learning). Thankfully, I encountered a few faculty members who saw things in me I didn’t see in myself. I owe so much to two female biologists in particular who mentored me in my junior and senior years, allowing me to graduate and find my gifts (who then supported me when applying to graduate school). So, Lucille Schmeider and Mildred Brammer, I thank you!! 

Perhaps Lucille and Millie are why I take my role as a professor and mentor so seriously. The opportunity to guide, support, listen to, and wonder with…feels like an immense gift. And I suppose that is also why I love commencement and the department reception that follows. I so enjoy seeing students one last time, taking photos, meeting their family members, saying goodbye (sad face), and of course, reminding them to “Go Forth and Be Fabulous” (and well, make sure to stay in touch). 

Some of my students on graduation day over the past three years…