Celebration

When I was four years old, I graduated from Joy School.
When I was eleven, I graduated from Gate City Elementary School.
When I was fourteen, I graduated from Franklin Junior High.
When I was seventeen, I graduated from Highland High School.
I have been classified as a grizzly, a panther, a ram, and a cougar.
And now, at the age of twenty-three, I am officially graduating from Brigham Young University.



It doesn't feel real . . . nothing really does anymore. The past week has been a blur. As I walked out of my last final, I saw four of my professors in the hallway. I stopped and ended up talking to them for thirty minutes. As I hugged them, they thanked and congratulated me for my accomplishments and contributions as a student within the major. At that moment, I couldn't have felt any happier. I felt accomplished, prideful, relieved. But also somber. The light at the end of the tunnel is growing brighter and brighter and pretty soon I am going to have to pull out the Ray-Bans to block its brightness.



As I walked to pick up my cap, gown and tassel, I called my mom to tell her how I was feeling and how I didn't want to graduate. About how I loved school so much and wasn't ready to grow up and move on in life. She sensed my concern and we talked about how graduation is an accomplishment, but not the end; rather the beginning of the next chapter in my life.

For the past seventeen years (with the exception of two), I have been classified as a student:
1 - "One who is learning"
2 - "One who is directing zeal at a subject"
3 - "An attentive observer"
4 - "A person who makes a thorough study of a subject"

All of these definitions really explain what I have been doing the past seventeen years, specifically my time as a student at BYU.
When I left pocatello in the fall of 2004 to start my life as a college student, I thought I knew exactly what I was getting myself into. I thought that since I had been accepted to a major university, that I was smart and knew all about life. However, those feelings drastically changed when I walked out of the testing center three weeks later, having failed my first college test. I remember calling my dad and telling him that "I don't really belong at BYU. The kids are too smart and there is no way I can compete with them for the next four years. That I should move back home and attend ISU where all my friends were and save their and my money." I may have been overreacting just a little. However, like any parent would do, he assured me that it would get better. That I would start understanding the material and how the classes work. That I would make new friends that would last a lifetime. He also reminded me that I was privileged to attend BYU and that I should make the most of this experience, because not everyone is able to. Still, I doubted him and walked home secretly wishing that all those things would come true.

In retrospect, I can say that they did. Each and every one of them. Freshman year was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. Not only did it help prepare me for a mission, but also for future plans once I arrived home. Which, when I did was not easy. However, I made the most of the situation and jumped head first into school, remembering the promises from years previous. The past three years have been some of the longest days and shortest weeks of my entire life. I can't possibly sum up all of my feelings. It's impossible.

However what I can say, is that they have been some of the most rewarding of my life. I am not the same person that I was six years ago. I have grown in every aspect of the word, and I feel humbled to be graduating tomorrow.

For that, I have reason to celebrate.

Not only the high and lows, but the joys, sorrows, failures, laughs, frustrations, and accomplishments over the past four years.