Gratulation

Yesterday, we took Arya to Ipswich for Mummy’s graduation or, as Arya would have it, gratulation(1).

Hanna was very anxious about the whole thing, not just because of the formality and the having to go on stage in front of strangers, or because our old friend imposter syndrome is still telling her that she doesn’t deserve to have a degree at all, but because the part of her that recognises her own worth is still mad as hell that the midwifery students got a mismanaged course, little-to-no support, and that she in particular was screwed over by their refusal to offer any flexibility on her deliveries(2), thus capping her practice grades and losing her a deserved high 2:1 or even a first.

We ate lunch in the car, which Arya thought was the best thing ever, showering herself with bits of cheese and crackers while Hanna and I rued the choice of a crusty giraffe baguette over some other, less crumbly bread. We picked up Daddy Andrew, who explained that some of his work colleagues would like to meet Arya and asked if she wanted to come up to the office. She said no, so that was that and we went on into town. At the town hall, where the ceremony was to be held, Hanna went to collect her gown and hood, while we took Arya to get changed out of her school uniform, then we met up to get photos taken.

It took a little time to find the booking, because it was in Hanna’s name, but I was down as the delivery point. Once that was done, we went through and were offered a choice of a plain, silver-grey background or a library background with bookshelves and a carriage clock. Hanna was leaning towards plain, but Arya ran to the library scene with a look of pure wonder. She consented to stand to one side while Hanna had her solo shot, then dashed in for a two-shot, with both of them holding prop certificates, before finishing off with some family groups.

The hall was hot and crowded, and I’d forgotten all of Arya’s snacks and drinks in the car but fortunately we were able to grab some popcorn from Boots and one of the ushers got Arya a glass of water. Then she played games on Mummy’s phone while we got through the speeches and other graduands before Hanna, who was as it happened the very last to be called up, having the last initial in the last category (MSc Hons in Midwifery.) At last, the faculty processed in at what I can only call an amble.

First up were the speeches, including the aptly-named Pro-Chancellor(3) telling us how ‘we do things differently’ at UniSuffolk(4), a speech I found it hard to take seriously knowing that the newly-minted university was voted the worst in the country by NUS members. She explained that they were a ‘community impact university,’ which I took to mean their students went out, got lashed and picked fights with the townies on a regular basis. Apparently what it means is that they measure their success by the impact on the quality of life of the people and communities their graduates go on to work with, rather than the physical, mental and emotional well-being of their students.

Honestly, I was just shocked at the lack of Latin and the barbaric laxity of allowing people to sit down during a graduation ceremony.

Next was the awarding of an honorary(5) doctorate to Esther Freud for her contributions to literature and service in battle against the Cybermen, and I kind of want an honorary doctorate just because the robes were so very bitching. At last, they started calling up the graduands – one at a time, like the presenting proctor didn’t have four perfectly good fingers, and with all the degree types announced – declaring every name like savages and with still not a whisper of Latin or the vaguest gesture of a kneel. How they can call this graduation I do not know(6). Meanwhile the audience cheered and clapped and whooped. You could tell who’d been popular and who had lots of fam in the audience. I wish I’d made more noise for Hanna, but I didn’t want to startle Arya, who was clapping away, proud as anything(8). 

Then one of the nursing students offered a vote of thanks for all the support that the University had given, while neglecting to consider the midwifery course at all... much like the University did. Then the graduates processed out. As the last in line, Hanna was the last to process out, which meant at least that she was able to hear Arya calling as she waved to her.

We met Hanna outside, took a few simple shots with her and Arya, and printed one out at a photo place for Arya to take to school. Then we headed off for a celebratory meal at Mrs Miggins’ Pie Shop(9). Arya was a bit disappointed that we wouldn’t be having another car picnic, but did really well on her dinner. Also notable, when we got to the restaurant we asked if she needed the toilet. She said no, but then added ‘but maybe I should try.’

It was a long day, and Arya was plum tuckered out by the time we dropped Daddy Andrew off, but she was absolutely fabulous. We had one fuss about having her hair re-brushed for photos, and otherwise she was a star, totally accepting that a) this was Mummy’s day, but b) that we still adored her. She was also visibly and vocally pleased to see Daddy Andrew, who all too often ends up butting heads with her when he’s around.

(1) Which is an awesome term.

(2) The EU directives under which the course still operates ask for 40 normal births or, in exceptional circumstances – such as, say, losing a dozen births due to a transfer from another, better university, or straight up bad luck in experiencing an unusual number of non-normal births – 30 plus 20 non-normal births. The University of Suffolk flat out refused to discuss the circumstances because ‘we don’t do that here.’ A fine sentiment vis a vis casual misogyny and ‘locker room talk’, but not so much when it means downgrading someone who will be going into practice with a vastly above average practical understanding of obstetric emergencies.

(3) It was a struggle not to offer running commentary in the unofficial role of ‘Con-Chancellor’.

(4) They don’t show any flexibility, even in accordance with EU directives, for starters.

(5) I’m never sure if ‘honourary’ is acceptable, and have now spent so long checking that neither looks like anything but a pseudoword, which is easily the greatest concept that Arya has brought home from school.

(6) When I graduated, I was presented in Latin while holding a finger, knelt in front of the Vice-Chancellor, who clasped my hands and Latined some more, before I was chucked out into an alley behind the Senate House to receive a certificate(7) confirming I had received the degree of Bachelor of Arts in going to Cambridge.

(7) And that only as proof to anyone gauche enough to doubt my word that I had a degree from Cambridge.

(8) And only for Mummy, because she loves Mummy.

(9) Actually a Harvester.