What I Actually Said to the PA Class of 2012

Last night was TW's hooding ceremony in honor of her college graduation. For some reason, I was given a chance to speak on behalf of spouses and families. WIthout further introduction, here is what I told the PA Class of 2012.

Me: Thank you very much, Chastity, it's an honor to speak here.

Her: Charity. My name's Charity.

Me: Right. Right. Charity. Not Chastity. Got it. For those of you that don't get that reference, most of the PAs here tonight can explain the joke. But the truth is, I am in fact terrible at remembering names. 

I come by that honestly, thanks to my Mother, who's here tonight … uh … uh … it's on the tip of my tongue.

Mom: Jackie. My name's Jackie.

Me: There we go. I should probably know that. But I am terrible with names and terrible with introductions. It occurs to me that I should introduce *myself*, since I only know about 20 people here tonight. I am the only person who has been on stage or will be on stage with only a bachelor's degree. It gets worse. It's from a liberal arts college.

I know nothing about medicine, or anything I would call, "doctrin'." My parents are from the South, you'll have to excuse me for that colloquialism.

I am a writer and journalist. My wife, whose name I can hopefully remember, is in the graduating class. I have a blog, mesofun.blogspot.com. About a year ago, I posted some advice to the graduating PA class of 2012. I jokingly stated that nobody had asked me to speak at graduation, but if they did, I had some words of wisdom for the future PAs of the world.

I guess sometimes it helps to dream big.

And now, for just a moment, I'd like to read an excerpt from that blog, titled, "A note to the PA Class of 2012."

"Some of you were marketing directors. There's a former ski patroller — the boss, in fact — amongst you. A former clinical director is wearing yoga pants and no makeup. These people don't have to be here. They could be socking money away in their 401Ks and skiing in Europe for a week every winter. Instead they're looking at six-figure debt and learning new words that mean "red." Erythematosus. Everybody else can Google it.

You came from Tennessee, Michigan, Colorado, California and New Mexico. There's even a student from the Other Portland. They told you it was going to be hard and they didn't lie. But they didn't tell you how hard it was going to be on you and people around you emotionally. Marriages and relationships were strained as you studied constantly. Speaking for the spouses, most of us aren't going to look back on this as the best two years of our lives. But it'll be worth it. We know that."

Those words were published April 3, 2011. They're still true. You gave up a lot to be sitting here tonight. All of you did. They tell you PA school is going to be the hardest thing you ever do. But nobody told you exactly *why* it was going to be so hard. That's because PA school pushes on you to find your weak points. Some people lost sight of diet or exercise. Others struggled to stay in touch with old friends or family. 

It struck me today during the hooding ceremony how many of you had actually spent the night in our house. Ella, Emeline, Emily, Callie, Heather -- who introduced me to yoga, Shayne -- whom I introduced to craft beers, and of course, Chastity. It has been a strange couple of years.

Joe P., the class vice president, summed things up very nicely. Today, on Facebook, he had a status update. He talked about all the hard work, the late nights and dedication all paying off for him today … when he beat the video game he has been working on for the past week. I just wanted to take a moment to recognize his sacrifices.

In a strange sense, that's the real world. That's what people do in their spare time. They play video games. Whatever your case is, you are being re-introduced to the real world. We, your spouses, families and friends, have been waiting for you out here for quite some time. Two years doesn't sound so long before school starts. Funny how that works. 

Going to school to get a master's degree is hard. Speaking as a future patient, it should be hard. I want all of you to have had a very tough experience because I'm going to be putting my life and well-being in your hands. 

But your time of sacrifice is near an end. Everyone being hooded today gave up something to be sitting in this room. That's why the rest of us are here today. We are celebrating your accomplishments, of course, but we are welcoming you back to the real world. We are re-introducing ourselves.

At some point in the next few weeks and months, everyone graduating this weekend will have a funny sensation wash over them. It's called boredom. With no pressure to study, or a test or prepare for, you will find yourself on Facebook or surfing the Internet. QUICKLY SAY: I recommend visiting mesofun blog in those moments. 

People in the real world have spare time. Your time is coming. You have all put your lives on hold for two or three years to chase after this graduate degree. A simple "thanks" doesn't quite cover it, but that's all I have. Thank you for putting your lives on hold. Thank you for all that you have done and all that you are going to do. 

Now, I'm going to do something unusual for a public speaker: I'm going to ask for applause. Not for me. As I leave, I want to applaud my wife … Amy. That's her name. It was four years ago when she decided she wanted to become a PA. She was working beyond full-time in a salaried position when she decided she wanted to go to PA school. She took night classes, often five days a week, to knock off prerequisites for PA school. She did that for almost two years. For that, I will be applauding her in just a moment. It's not often in life where we have an opportunity to actually applaud someone we love to show them we're proud of them. All of us, all the families and friends, are here tonight to show our support. We're all very, very proud of you. Thank you. Welcome back.