Grad Goodbyes at County’s Colleges

They were brokenhearted to leave. And ecstatic.

“Eight years was too long,” groaned Dan Collins, 27, who graduated from Ventura College on Thursday. “It felt like a prison sentence.”

“I feel like this is my second home,” said Marylou Avila Escoto, another graduate. “I love this campus. I feel like I’m leaving something behind.”

Between cramming for final exams and preparing for the next chapters in their lives, some of this year’s 2,171 graduates from Ventura County’s three community colleges expressed a wide range of emotions this week. Oxnard and Moorpark college students graduate today.

But whether they are transferring to four-year universities or happily completing their college educations, one thing each graduate has in common: Their diplomas represent a new beginning.

“For me, it’s a starting point,” said Wahid Latifzadah, 21, who is among Oxnard College’s 284 graduates.

Today, about 200 students are expected to participate in that school’s graduation ceremony.

“I want to become a doctor, so it’s a tiny step in reaching my goal,” Latifzadah said.

Latifzadah wants to take care of his mother, Parwin, 49, who suffers from stomach ulcers and chronic migraines. He said he wants to honor his mother, who seven years ago escaped war-torn Afghanistan with her five children.

His father, who owned a restaurant and hotel in Kabul, was killed in the country’s civil war when Latifzadah was 2. He was 14 when his mother took him and the other children to India. There, they waited two years before getting visas to travel to Ventura, where other family members lived.

If he would have stayed in his homeland, he said, he would now be a soldier.

“Or I’d be dead,” he said, recounting his childhood with his mother, his sister, Shahla, 22, and his brother, Aman, 23, at their Camarillo apartment. “Leaving saved our lives.”

At Ventura College on Thursday, Collins was also contemplating his future. More than an hour before the graduation ceremony, Collins was the sole student sitting among rows and rows of metal folding chairs.

Of the college’s 1,025 graduates, Collins was among about 300 students who partook in the commencement event.

After eight years at the college, the day had finally arrived.

“I’m just counting the minutes,” said Collins, of Ventura, who plans to transfer to Humbolbt State University and study political science.

He attributed his long tenure to having to take remedial classes in various subjects. The school’s department for disabled students insisted, he said, because he has cerebral palsy.

“They tried to put me in a box and categorize me because they see me as a disabled student,” Collins said. “It depressed me and made me so mad. I knew I was smart enough to be in regular mainstream classes.”

When he began taking regular classes, he made the dean’s list two years in a row, he said.

“He’s done a lot of fantastic things and we’re thrilled for him,” said Nancy Latham,the college’s Educational Assistance Center coordinator. “As far as his feelings about being compartmentalized . . . our philosophy is to support them to be successful in the mainstream.”

Throughout the years, Collins was active in campus politics. After two unsuccessful runs as student body president, he was elected in 1993. But what really kept him interested in campus life was sports, he said.

He rarely missed a basketball, football, track or soccer game, teachers said. “He’s the loudest one in the whole stadium, I can tell you that,” said student activities director Richard La Paglia.

His activism was evident to the end.

On graduation day, officials suggested Collins sit in his wheelchair on the stage so he would not have to struggle to get to the podium to pick up his diploma.

“I told them no,” Collins said. “I want a regular seat so I can be where I belong--with the rest of the students. . . . If I’ve learned anything at Ventura College, I’ve learned how to help myself.”

Outside the Ventura College gym on Thursday, Marylou Avila Escoto stood with her son, Evaristo “Buddy.” Both Fillmore residents were graduating. Neither had finished high school, so the day was particularly poignant to both mother and son.

Marylou, 38, said her only son and eldest child Buddy nudged her toward college.

“I told him, ‘Buddy, I’m going back to school, I’m going to get my degree,’ ” she recalled. “He’d say, ‘Sure, mom.’ He challenged me. I had to do it.”

Returning to school wasn’t easy for Marylou, who has seven children, most still living at home. Her husband, Buddy, 44, a pipe layer, encouraged her to pursue an education, she said.

Marylou plans to earn a law degree. Her son wants to be a teacher.

“We set the pace for my six daughters,” Marylou said. “A degree means a ticket to independence, a ticket to freedom. We’re not stopping here. This is only the beginning.”

Moorpark College student Steve Widdoss, who graduates today, feels the same way. Today he will be among the 250 graduates participating in the commencement ceremony. In all, 862 students graduated from the college.

He plans to continue his studies at UCLA in the fall and eventually become a music professor.

He wasn’t always so excited about school. By 17, he was a habitual pot smoker who had been kicked out of two high schools. His straight-F report card reflected his apathy and absence in school.

But even after expelling him for vandalism, officials at Moorpark High School did something that redirected the angry youth.

They invited him to the senior class banquet under one condition: he play the piano.

“The school asked me to play songs that I composed,” Widdoss said. “I guess that planted the seed.”

For Widdoss, leaving the community college will be difficult.

“It’s really hard to leave your comfort zone,” he said. “But I’m really excited about going places and doing new things. It’s a sad but joyful time.”