40th Reunion

Last month, on our way back from Spoleto USA in Charleston, SC, we drove to my alma mater for my 40th college reunion.

My mom’s older sister, Helen, didn’t graduate from college. Mom once commented that Helen was embarrassed about that, but Mom said it wasn't as important as Helen imagined it was. A degree didn’t define a life.

I graduated college, but never went to graduate school. I chose to be a full-time homemaker and mother to eventually six children. I don’t regret that, but I often wondered if I could have done more: sought an advanced degree and career when my youngest entered first grade.

Bryn Mawr is one of the Seven Sisters: an elite all-women’s college, on the Main Line outside of Philly. From 1974 to 1978, when I was there, the issue of what a college-educated woman should do with her life was a contentious one. An undocumented quotation of M. Carey Thomas, the first dean and second president of the college, had two versions: "Our failures ONLY marry" or  "ONLY our failures marry."

So, when I chose to get married a year after graduation, and had my first child two years later, I struggled with the expectations of what I should do with my life.

At our 40th reunion, the class of ’78 held a meeting. After elections (the current board ran unopposed and were reelected) and business (including a report on donations and a plea for more), the president suggested we all take a few minutes to introduce ourselves. I was sitting in the second row, and looked to be about the third speaker. Adrenaline flowed as I debated what to say. I had consciously avoided reunions, attending my 5th and 10th but none since, to avoid facing the issue of M. Carey Thomas’ expectations.

I decided to forge ahead, to stick my neck out, to be honest. I said my name and then said, “I became a Mormon, got married, and had six kids." Then, I rather militantly continued, "If you look down on me for that, I don’t want to hear about it." I might have been shaking when I sat down.

As my other former classmates (about 30 women, none of whom I knew well or shared classes with) introduced themselves, I discovered that some of them are having outwardly ‘ordinary’ lives.

Over the course of the weekend several woman approached me separately and thanked me for saying what I did. They said that my honesty had helped set the tone. I wasn’t the only one who had struggled over the years, not ‘measuring up’ to the Bryn Mawr standard: not getting a PhD or producing a new translation of The Iliad (Greek is a thing at Bryn Mawr, ancient, of course.)

The general consensus was that, at age 61, we've come to terms with life, our choices and circumstances. Life is much more complicated than our 20-year-old selves could have imagined. There are heartaches and disappointments, but also triumphs, and deep joys, with or without accolades or a tenured position at a major university.

I discovered that a classmate I’d never known before lives in Arlington, about 6 miles from me. We meet a few weeks ago and had a lovely walk on the Minuteman Bike Path, which coincidentally goes near both my home and hers. As at the reunion, it was wonderful talking to someone who in some way shared that formative experience. She also had felt the weight of “Mawrter” expectations, but had come to a place of peace with her life. Have we learned a little wisdom?