Parent to parent: Expectations at graduation

College graduation is a paradox, both easy and difficult, at the same time.

When I attended my daughter's graduation a year ago, the easy part was feeling proud. The hard part was understanding what graduation weekend was like for my daughter. I also struggled to negotiate the logistics of it all.

My feeling of pride made me want to do certain things that did not turn out to be in line with my daughter's desires, or with what the university could provide.

Mom's expectations

For example, one of my goals was to thank professors. I had a vision of myself as the gracious parent who sweeps in and finally gets to express gratitude to my daughter's teachers, particularly her adviser. My daughter accomplished a lot on her own initiative, but I knew that behind her wise choice of a major and her growing self-confidence and maturity, were professors who inspired her.

But try finding them on graduation weekend, attended by thousands of people.

At my daughter's college, some departments held receptions for graduates and families, but even then, the competition to shake hands with that special instructor was overwhelming.

At UC Davis, with larger numbers of graduates, and a comparatively small number of faculty members who attend graduation, the chances of thanking someone in person are even more remote. If your student works closely with a faculty member, perhaps something can be arranged in advance. Otherwise, that handshake is virtually impossible.

The student's expectations

The other thing I imagined was that my husband, my daughter's boyfriend, and I — as weekend guests who flew a long distance to be there — would be the primary focus of my daughter's attention.

That was just plain naive of me.

How could I have forgotten that graduation would be the last weekend my daughter could spend with her college friends, especially her three roommates, who were about to scatter across the country?

We parents and siblings joined them in their tiny apartment for a potluck, but as the roommates kept gathering on the couch for photographs and more photographs, I realized that something emotional was going on.

I got to be the gracious parent, by leaving.

The future looms

The unavoidable fact about graduation is that although it celebrates a momentous accomplishment, everyone is thinking about what comes next.

Most students, in fact, have been obsessing about that question for the entire senior year. As graduation nears, they field inquiries from relatives, teachers, and even from friends who are one year behind them, or one year ahead.

"What are you doing after graduation?"

The student who lacks an easy answer (like "I've been accepted to graduate school") dreads the question.

The follow-up inquiry leads to discomfort, too: "Where will you be living?"

The student does not want to say, "I'm moving back home," but many need to do just that in order to save money while they regroup and apply for jobs.

Where to focus

I see now that a wise parent helps his or her student make graduation a day suspended in time, like one of those multi-sided glass balls that rotates above a ballroom, going nowhere except round and round, festively.

At UC Davis we have the sun, the robes, the photographs, and the all-important reading of the graduate's name as he or she crosses the stage.

These public events, and private ones like meeting the roommates, choosing a lei, or decorating a mortarboard, are the ones to talk about, to laugh about, to savor.

The future is coming, but not quite yet.