Just about a week ago, some 7,100 students graduated from the U. After crossing the stage to greedily yank an empty diploma case (the real McCoy is mailed out later, after the U determines that students have crossed all the T’s and dotted all the I’s) from the hands of the dean, 7,096 of them promptly torched their class notes and worksheets in the family BBQ grill and vowed to get on with their lives. Three of them (probably with political aspirations) held on to all of their class materials out of fear that someone—someday—might need to see them. And one graduate stumbled into my arms and gave me a big ol’ kiss.  

My wife, Kathy, was awarded her B.S. in nursing last Thursday. Those of you who are “nontraditional” students—or, shall we say, more “mature” students with families of your own—know what a long, strange trip it is from the Registrar’s Office to Commencement day. I’m not going to say it was easy: Over the past couple of years as Kathy diligently knocked out the final requirements to earn her diploma, she wasn’t around much. And when she was, she was squirreled away in our home office clutching a gazillion-dollar textbook and a 59-cent highlighter—and despite my best efforts to derail her good study habits (“Aw, c’mon, blow it off for one night and let’s watch all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls!”), she stuck with it. And consider this: We have a 5-year-old daughter in the house who demands your undivided attention. At. All. Times. As if she’ll wither like yesterday’s arugula unless she basks in the paternal/maternal spotlight—an occupational hazard in single-child households.    

Leaving aside all the frustration and epithets she sometimes hurled at the U of U, the College of Nursing, the universe, and, most often, me—it was all worth it. Especially when Kathy clutched her very own empty diploma case, while my daughter screamed, “I love you, Mommy,” and she planted that smooch on my lips and thanked me for (sometimes) keeping the family dynamic running smoothly (har har, rarely) while she was in school. I almost cried but made it look like I had a mortar board in my eye.

Then the color drained from Kathy’s face as she said, “Wait. Now I have to get a job.”

Yep. Welcome to the dark side of graduation, sweetheart.