On December 12, 2014, the Nursing program recognized autumn Nursing graduates at a Pinning Ceremony. Molly Wales spoke, representing the Registered Nursing graduates. The following is her inspirational speech:   

A few weeks back, I read a post on Facebook from a local woman who is often contacted by journalism students wanting to interview her about her work. She said that when she gets interview requests from students at other area colleges, they usually ask if she will fill out a questionnaire and send it back. Essentially, they are asking her to write their articles for them. If she says no, but says she'll meet for a face-to-face interview, they typically decline or don't show.

But when she gets calls from Hocking students, they ask outright to meet with her for the interview. They behave professionally, and follow through on their commitments. And that got me thinking - why the big difference?

And here's what I have concluded - in my experience, Hocking College students, for the most part, are ready to do the work. We do not expect our grades and our careers to be handed to us. Rather, we expect to face challenges and to overcome them with our own ability. Some of us have learned this work ethic from a lifetime of struggle. Others have learned it from watching our parents and grandparents. Others are motivated by an unrelenting drive to follow a particular career path, or to have a reliable job that will put food on the table.

Whatever the motivation, I know that the nurses graduating with me here have worked, and worked, and worked, to achieve what we are celebrating today. When I started this program, I was among those who thought, "It's a two-year college, how hard can it be?" Well let me tell you, it was HARD. And we did it.

Absolutely nothing was handed to us, or watered down to make it easier. In the spirit of Hocking and the region it serves, we pulled from ourselves, and from our community, and from our families, and here we are today, a group of future RNs who are truly prepared to excel at whatever comes next.

And there was another thing that happened recently, that got me thinking. It was during a clinical day. I was team leader, which means I sort of oversaw my classmates, and pitched in where necessary. Through a cracked doorway I saw my friend Nichol doing a truly meticulous skin assessment of her patient. I thought to myself, "Whoa, she is not cutting a single corner."

Later that same day, I knocked on a door to see if she needed help, and Nichol was giving a bed bath to her patient - not the quick bath with preheated wipes that we so often fall back on, but I mean washing this woman's back, slowly and carefully, with soap and water and a washcloth. Again, I was struck by the thoroughness of Nichol's work. She passed meds on time, assessed her patients in detail, met their every need, and then went further still - all with the cheer and mellow disposition that she's known for.

So I went home with this on my mind. And I have spent the last weeks thinking about all of the things that our patients will never know about us:

Our patients will never know about the things that gave us the motivation to keep doing our best - like a scholarship, encouragement from a classmate, a note from a patient, a test grade that finally reflected how hard we'd been studying. Nor will they know about those tests that seemed unconnected to what we'd learned in class, that left us in a shell-shocked huddle in the parking lot. They will never know why the phrases "Multiple multiple" and "checkoffs" send us into escalating anxiety. They will never know why we keep our CPR cards and immunization records in a fireproof safe, and why we quadruple check email addresses to make sure we aren't accidentally emailing a teacher when we intend to blow off steam to a classmate.

They will never know how inspired we have been by our teachers - not just as educators, but also because they are smart, capable nurses, and strong women.   They will never know how our teachers taught us so much more than content - for example how Laurel taught us about concept mapping, which revolutionized the way we studied, and made us better students, which will make us better nurses. Or how Sarah taught us to spend a few calm minutes connecting with our clients before starting any nursing care, because an emotional connection would make the work more rewarding for all involved. Or how Judy showed us how to be focused in our hustle, and find our own rhythm to the work day. They will never know about the little ways in which our teachers helped us to go beyond ourselves - like, on the morning that my stepfather died, I went into clinical and told Bev I was going to try to make it through the day, and she looked at me like she knew I could, and because of her confidence in me, I did. They will never know about the teachers who advocated for us. And they will never know about the teachers who we turned to when we were sure we couldn't make it, who lifted us up with their kindness and encouragement.

Our patients will never know how we sat in orientation the first day feeling rather isolated, and are leaving this program with friends who feel like family. They will never know how the youngest among us (who, to give you a little perspective, was born the year I graduated from high school) went straight through this program while raising a little boy mostly on her own. They will never know that the most competitive and argumentative among us, went out of his way, over and over and over, to help others understand and succeed. They will never know how much we laughed.   I think that is what I'm going to miss most.

Our patients will never know how, in the name of building a better future for our children, we often had to put school ahead of their needs, and so we sat in class with aching hearts, trying to focus on the easier days ahead. They will never know how we relied on spouses, partners, parents, friends, and family, who believed in us, who pitched in, who cared for our children, and cared for us, because we could not have done this on our own. We really could not have done this on our own.

But what our patients WILL know, like Nichole's patient must have known that day, is that we take really good care of them. That we are well-trained, yes, but also that we hear their concerns and do not dismiss their complaints. They will know that, presented with a question we cannot answer, we will get help.

We will not shirk from daunting tasks, nor consider ourselves too qualified to give the most basic care. We will advocate for our patients. We will be professional. We will be kind. When we are frazzled and overwhelmed and doubting ourselves, we will remember where we come from: right here.

Our patients may never know what we went through to become nurses - but they will feel safe with us and because of that, they will be more likely to take good care of themselves and more likely to heal.

Obviously I cannot mention in this one speech everyone I want to mention. But I hope that all of you can feel my gratitude for the parts you have played. Now onto the next phase - practicing what we have worked so hard to learn. I know we will be great at it.