📸 That’s me, mid-row on graduation day, fully engaged and grinning.
I risk dating myself somewhat by posting this, but this was one of the biggest achievements of my life. Thirty years ago, I graduated from Lord Fairfax, now Laurel Ridge Community College in Middletown, VA, summa cum laude. I was named Outstanding Graduate of my class and was one of two recipients of the Beulah McGovern Science Award.
I had struggled with school after graduating from high school, and the rollercoaster twists and turns of the next few years meant that I would not finish college until 2004 at Temple University. By the time I graduated from Temple (with honors in my English major), I had 180 undergraduate credits and the equivalent of minors in classical studies, history, and religion, as well as all the foundational courses in life sciences; biology, microbiology, anatomy and physiology, chemistry, and (gasp) organic chemistry, which was the class that finally did me in for science as a career path.
But I had discovered that I had a real passion for writing in addition to a tremendous appetite for learning.
That day in Middletown was more than just a graduation: It was a turning point. I had clawed my way back from academic mediocrity, personal upheaval, and the kind of early-twenties detours that my Gen X pals know a lot about and that don’t fit neatly into a résumé. Community college wasn’t Plan A, but it became the bridge to everything that came after.
I remember standing in my cap and gown, feeling a mix of disbelief and pride. After struggling so hard to find my footing, it was surreal to hear my name called for top honors.
By the time I crossed the stage at Temple a decade later, I had followed a winding path through disciplines and campuses. I had become, as one advisor gently joked, “a collector of credits.” But what I had really become was a lifelong learner. Someone who knew how to adapt. Someone who finally understood that finishing doesn’t always mean following a straight line.
And that little college in the Shenandoah Valley? It believed in me first.
Community colleges open doors and transform lives. Laurel Ridge did that for me and for hundreds of other students trying to find their way. It gave us a place to start anew, to build momentum, to believe in ourselves.
Years later, my older son, who had been an ever-present toddler scooting around the floors of the college during my time there, would spend a year at Laurel Ridge before transferring to the University of Mary Washington—ironically, the same place where I first stumbled through college a generation earlier. He finished his degree in a third of the time and with far fewer detours. But neither of us would have gotten there without this incredible springboard.
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