"I'm scared," I said to my six- and four-year-old daughters at the airport on my way to a 12-day summer residency in creative writing at the University of British Columbia. "I will have to walk into the classroom and I don't know anyone." My daughters, who had been through the same ordeal themselves, gave me a hug.
"Can you give me any advice?" I asked. My four-year-old put her hand on my shoulder and offered a sympathetic smile. "Just walk through the scared," she said.
On the flight to Vancouver, I began to think. My daughters and I have an important thing in common now, as we are all students. I decided that, for the next five years of the Master of Fine Art programme, I would be spinning this common factor into some great life-lessons for my girls. But based on my experience at the airport, I could see that I would be learning just as much.
That was five years ago and I have now graduated. The plan was to take my kids to Vancouver for my convocation. I had thought, perhaps with a bit of self-centredness, that it would be another inspiration for them - but when the time came my girls said they were too busy with school, and I wasn't keen on the two 12-hour flights for a brief moment of glory.
So I told the university to just put my parchment in the post. When the document came I gathered everyone around and my daughters helped me open the package. We opened the vinyl case and there it was, Mummy's new graduate degree. I walked slowly across the living-room holding my degree, wearing a dressing gown in place of graduation gown. Everyone clapped. It was a proud moment.
Months later, I sat with my daughter, talking about her own studies. She mentioned those five years of knowing that I was working at my desk late at night. Then she said, "Sometimes, Mummy, you inspire me." Had I ever lamented the cost of that degree, that would have made the expense worth it.
Over the years I have talked to my girls about "lifelong learning". I saw my work and studies as good role-modelling in that regard. But I was also thinking about what I would do when I completed the course. Now what? I have been warned that a hands-on mum like myself would have a tough time with empty-nest syndrome. My older daughter's high-school graduation is still five years away, but I am already starting to give it some thought.