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“I’m a college graduate.”

It’s a dream nearly 59 years in the making.

In June 1966, Rochelle Perdue interviewed to enroll at Cumberland College and began classes during the summer term.

“When I got here, I was the only African American in the dormitories. I guess that’s a milestone,” she recalled.

Rochelle broke a color barrier at ���ϲ�����, but she doesn’t see her time at the university as a pioneering legacy—in her eyes, she was simply going through school. For the most part, her professors and classmates treated her with respect and kindness. Although she did experience racism, she didn’t “put up with that foolishness.”

“I knew right away that there were people on this campus who didn’t want me here and weren’t comfortable with me being here,” she said matter-of-factly. “But that didn’t affect me because I knew that I was here to do whatever I needed to do.”

Years passed, and Rochelle eventually had around a semester left before she would cross the graduation stage. Her degree, however, was the last thing on her mind. Consuming her thoughts was the love of her life, Lindell, who was serving in Vietnam. The two had planned a big wedding after her graduation—but things didn’t go as planned.

Lindell realized he would have only a short leave in the States and implored Rochelle to meet him in Beaufort, South Carolina, so they could go ahead and wed. Rochelle agreed, and the two were joined in matrimony much earlier than expected.

Rochelle returned to ���ϲ����� a married woman and attended her mandatory sociology lecture despite Lindell’s limited time at home. Someone in class blurted out the big news, sparking the professor’s interest.

“He said, ‘Well, what are you doing here?’” said Rochelle. “And I said, ‘Well, I have to be in class.’”

The professor, empathizing with her situation, took a class vote to determine if she could leave early for the weekend to see Lindell. The vote passed unanimously.

“I packed up my books, got out of there, and I was gone,” she said.

Life happened—and Rochelle did not return.

Now, at age 77, Rochelle has lived “the good life.” She married the love of her life, raised three sons, and is the proud grandmother of seven granddaughters and six great-grandsons. She also built a successful 32-year career as a bank manager before retiring in 2005. But one chapter remained unfinished: earning her college degree.

Though the dream had tugged at the back of her mind for years, it wasn’t until a conversation with her granddaughter, Taylor, that she became more determined to complete her degree.

Like most Nannas, Rochelle doesn’t believe in sugarcoating the hard stuff. When Taylor called during a rough patch in nursing school, she didn’t hesitate to speak from the heart.

“She said, ‘Nanny, I just don’t think I can do it anymore.’ And I told her, ‘The only regret I have in life is that I didn’t finish college.’”

Right on time, Dave Bergman, senior development officer at ���ϲ�����, contacted Rochelle and asked if she had any interest in completing her degree.

“It was just a godsend, you know? It was meant to be,” she said matter-of-factly.

Several ���ϲ����� staff members supported Rochelle’s desire to re-enroll, including President Larry L. Cockrum, who approved a full scholarship for the few classes she needed to complete her undergraduate degree.

Rochelle was nervous to return, but she quickly found a supportive, student-first environment that made her journey smoother than she ever thought possible.

“The online system was very user-friendly, and whenever I would run into a problem, I would get on the phone or send an email and receive help right away,” she said. “The scholarship was also a tremendous blessing as a retiree; it felt humbling that they wanted to help me in that way.”

On May 3, Rochelle returned to campus and walked the graduation stage in front of several family and friends, including her granddaughter Taylor, who also recently graduated from school. It was a big moment for the whole family—an accumulation of generations of grit and determination. But the proudest of all? Mrs. Rochelle herself.

“It’s the knowledge that I completed something,” she explained. “It’s okay if it takes longer as long as you get it done. And I truly believe that with me being 77 years old. I’m just so proud of myself.”

In that moment, Rochelle Perdue wasn’t just celebrating a personal victory—she was setting an example for her loved ones that, through grit and perseverance, they too can achieve anything they set their minds to. At ���ϲ�����, her legacy now echoes a simple but powerful truth: it’s never too late to finish what you started.