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Graduation was a family affair at the Berkeley Adult School (BAS) Tuesday. 

Great aunts, cousins and grandmothers showed up with the rest of the clan to congratulate the newest member in the family to graduate from high school. 

2007 BAS graduate Marsha Griffin’s aunt Linda Shehee had rushed down from Oakland that afternoon. Aleijah, Aliyah and Jailen had waited with bated breath all day to watch their mom Britnee Love get her diploma. 

“You did it, mom,” five-year-old Jailen screamed, as Love scooped down to pick up Aleijah and Aliyah. 

In a perfect world, Love would have walked with the rest of her classmates at the Berkeley High School graduation Friday, but circumstances had led her to complete her degree from the adult high school instead. 

“There was too much to do, and too little time,” she said. “Bringing up three kids is a full-time job. On top of that I own a daycare in Hayward. It’s kind of hard providing food for your children and working to pass high school, but this place made it possible.” 

Love’s story was typical of most of the 67 graduates attending commencement that evening.  

In an enclave famous for being Berkeley’s ethnic gourmet ghetto, the Berkeley Adult School, with its sprawling campus at 1701 San Pablo Ave., has established itself as a local landmark. 

It is here that octogenarians earn high school diplomas, forty-somethings brush the dust off their old ukuleles and 20-year-old mothers fall in love with reading, painting and dancing all over again. 

“We make it possible for adults to live their dreams,” said BAS principal Margaret Kirkpatrick after the commencement ceremonies. 

“All you need to do is show up here and we take care of the rest.” 

Kirkpatrick, a 11-year-old veteran at the school, said that programs were also open to those living outside Berkeley. 

“A significant number of our students are not from Berkeley High School or B-Tech, but from Oakland, Richmond, San Leandro and Hayward,” she said.  

“We had about 150 graduates two years ago, but the numbers dwindled with the start of the California High School Exit Exam. The problem with the exit exam is not that it’s too hard for our students to crack, but that it’s only offered four times a year. Our students have families, they have kids and full-time jobs. All this makes it tough to find a time to study.” 

The school—which occupied the West Campus until 2004—is now located at the site of what formerly was Franklin Elementary School. 

“It’s clean, it’s safe, the lights work, the phone works, everything works,” Kirkpatrick said excitedly. “The district does a great job to support adult education. They put their money where their priorities are.” 

BAS is open from 8 a.m. to 9 p.m., but classes are held all day. Students come from diverse socio-economic and ethnic backgrounds. 

“I get single parents, Section 8 tenants, delinquents, gang members and the homeless,” said high school counselor Betsy Hoyt. 

“It takes a lot for our student to stay on track. They dropped out of school for a reason and it’s difficult for them to come back.” 

Students can enroll for high school or independent study at any time of the year. 

“Normally we will have someone in their 70s graduating,” said Kirkpatrick. “But this year our oldest graduate is in his 40s. The youngest is 18. We don’t accept people below that.” 

John McKeown, who counseled high school students for more than a decade at BAS, said that his oldest student had been Masuyi Makishima, a Japanese immigrant who got her high school diploma at the grand old age of 83. 

“Graduating from high school is like a rite of passage in our culture. People want to do it, no matter how late,” he said smiling. 

Students are taught in a regular classroom environment. The school’s largest program is English as a Second Language, while programs for older adults, computer skills, genealogy, dance and poetry lessons are some of the other popular picks. 

“Our high school students have to satisfy the same requirements as those of Berkeley High,” Kirkpatrick said.  

“They really work in the confines of what an adult has to do plus go to school. In adult education we don’t call them ‘drop outs,’ we call them ‘stop outs.’ We teach them the meaning of hope.” 

Hope was written in Tareva Early’s teary eyes as she went up on the stage to receive her certificate from Kirkpatrick. It was written all over Clydie Williams’ face and in Sarah Kenny’s smile. 

Early and Williams, both in their late teens, had been unable to graduate from their original high schools in 2005.  

“I didn’t because I wasn’t focusing enough,” said a wiser Williams. “This place made me think about my future. It helped me accomplish my goals. Today, I want to have a career in nursing.” 

Sarah, who lives in Santa Rosa, had made the trip to Berkeley to accept an honorary diploma on behalf of her father Paul Kenny, who drowned in a boating accident in the Berkeley Marina in February. 

“I am proud to be standing here today,” Kevin C. Broucaret said in his graduation speech. 

“Although many of us were unable to take part in our original high school graduations, we never gave up. Many of us will go on to become doctors, lawyers or work in corporations. Up until this year, I have never taken education so seriously. I have realized how important it is to receive credentials beyond a high school diploma.” 

In a room scattered with super moms and super dads and bright young adults waiting to go out and conquer the world, there were also those who had helped them get there. 

Students thanked vice principal Tom Orput. They thanked Betsy Hoyt, high school GED clerk Luci Rodriguez and teachers Lucia Owens and Dam Reamon. 

“This is an incredible place,” said Orput, and talked at length about the school’s famed Bread Project, a nine-week training program which teaches adults professional baking skills. 

“We have our very own cafe. Students make pastries, biscottis, bundts and lots of other amazing stuff. Some even end up with successful careers in baking.” 

As the auditorium exploded in cheers when the first graduate walked up get her diploma, families took their seats excitedly. 

“I don’t know what Marsha is graduating in,” said Shehee as she walked into the auditorium, “but I am going to see her graduate. If she goes on to Harvard, we will be right behind.” 

Photograph by Riya Bhattacharjee 

Aleijah, Aliyah and Jailen with their mom, Berkeley Adult School graduate Britnee Love.