In my family, commencement ceremonies are about adrenaline

Despite difficult times and disagreements, my mother and father never missed a graduation for either my older brother or me while we were young. In fact, they were the ultimate city commuters, traveling wherever the commencement took them: the local Queens elementary school, the Felt Forum at Madison Square Garden and even Radio City Music Hall.

And then, when my studies were done, I got to watch my children graduate, becoming the kind of spectator who happy cries at graduations.

I love the energy of any school’s commencement ceremony. From the moment you arrive at the venue, there is a healthy distinction between the students in various forms of pre-dress (holding cap and gown, wearing it unzipped, fully clothed right down to the bobby pins) and the guests who act as personal assistants (holding extra belongings, smoothing unruly curls and wielding entry tickets).

Once the ceremonies start, there is the adrenaline rush that comes from witnessing a triumphant graduate’s procession. It is so joyful and nearly overwhelming as they march and absorb the deafening cheers of the crowd. And if you are so lucky, there is that moment when you are on the receiving end of a “recognition face” — when your graduate has spotted you waving uncontrollably from the stands.

Those like me, who are the first in their family to graduate from college, know how uber-meaningful this moment is. How emotions run devastatingly high as you walk across the stage. It is surreal — the culmination of all that hard work, late nights and tuition payments. And if that’s not enough excitement, there is that official pronouncement that, by the powers vested in your university (and in my case, the state of New York), you have now received your degree. Congratulations.

Over the years, our family’s graduations have taken some unexpected turns. There was the night I puff-painted the requested phrase on my son’s mortarboard and discovered that I wrote the words upside down. He was out at the prom and I worried all night about sharing this news. Yet he was incredibly good-natured about it, wearing the back of the cap on his forehead for the duration of the day. Now that I think of it, he designed his two college graduation caps on his own.

And, of course, there were the times in which the “big man on campus” was more like “big mom on campus.” For me, that meant putting my young children to bed with the refrain, “Go to sleep now, Mom has to do her homework.” I completed my entire master’s degree online by 2004 and met my chairperson and a fellow student one time only — on graduation day.

My little son kept me going to the academic finish line. He reminded me of a logo on the learning management system that my college used for online courses. The logo was a small cartoon guy with a cap, gown and diploma striding forward. According to my son, if I kept up my studies, I too could be that guy.

Finally, it was my mother, 50 years after her high school diploma, who graduated with her associate’s degree in applied science in the early 1990s. It took her 10 years — taking classes part time. Ironically, we share the same alma mater but I graduated a decade prior. And while my diploma is hung above the stereo, my mom’s diploma was hung by her bed at the assisted living center where she stayed until her passing.

In our home, we all cheer for each other. But it was my mother who was one of the first to cheer for me. Then I had the privilege to cheer for her. And oh, yes, there were plenty of graduation-worthy tears of joy to go around.