Graduation 2006
“Does graduation ever get any easier?” I wonder as I rouse myself from bed early Saturday morning. The fourth year you’re at a school system and watching the graduation is always interesting. Your first year of graduation is filled with lots of names you don’t know and fresh-faced young people walking across the stage that you don’t know. By the time you have taught in a school district for four years you know a much larger percentage of the players on the program.As always the last week or so is filled many time worn traditions. Yearbooks have been handed out and while you try to review for exams you quietly pretend not to see the books make the rounds as kids promise to be “friends forever” and admonish their friends to “never forget”. Kids (funny how I still call them kids when in a matter of days they will have put school behind them) make the usual declarations. “I can’t wait ‘till I get out of this place.” “I’m grown” “They can just mail me my diploma because I’m not coming to graduation” and “I’m tired of all these stupid rules this school has”. You try to let them roll over you. After all sixteen years of hearing the same words spoken endlessly in various tones help the words actually lose their impact. You know that they will show up for graduation. You know that when they get to work full-time that their employer will also have “stupid rules”. They may feel their grown and in a legal sense they will be. You also know that when they reach their forties they will wonder what they were thinking when they uttered those words, especially when their own teenagers tell them the same things.
Every year at locker clean up I ask kids to give me any notebook paper, pens, pencils, rulers, etc. that they are going to throw away. As a matter of fact parents would be horrified if they showed up on locker clean up day. Kid throw away bags of pens still factory sealed in shrink wrap. The same goes for pencils, graph paper, and regular paper. I find myself pulling jackets, t-shirts, and almost new book bags out of the trash. I have to gather these things up quickly before they are carted off to the dumpster. These kids may not need these school supplies because they are leaving but there will be kids who will. Every day of every year, inevitably I will have a student ask to borrow a pencil or pen or paper. I hand them one and tell them to keep it. Some teachers give them D-hall for coming to class unprepared. They feel they are teaching the kids responsibility. I can see that. I can also see that a kid without his supplies won’t be able to take his notes and might disrupt your class because he’s bored. Some teachers rent or sell the supplies. After all they come out of our pockets for the most part. Many times I get free supplies from this end of the year throw away and of course any recruiter who comes by or any trade show I go to.
This year as I asked for supplies I had a student tell me “Miss Cope. Dis ain’t the 1930’s when you was a kid. We don’t use used pencils” USED PENCILS? What the heck is a used pencil anyway? What is the lifespan of a pencil before it is considered used? I informed him that I was born in 1959 and reminded him that he has borrowed one of my used pencils. “You know what I meant. People ain’t poor like dat no mo.” Well sure I could point out how wrong he was and lecture him on being pretty judgmental or perhaps point out that he actually is that poor. Why? Why should I or would I? Really it’s just his way of telling the class that his life is so big time that he would never need to take handouts. The truth put aside it is the power of his words that makes it so at least in the mind of those who hear it. By the time locker clean up is over I have a small show box filled with pencils, pens, and colored pencils. I have eight new notebooks and twelve spiral notebooks that were never used. I split some of my findings with the ESOL teacher. Many of her students have come here with nothing.
Exam week begins with the seniors taking two of their exams early so they can attend graduation rehearsal. Again the usual chants begin. “They didn’t give me enough tickets.” “The rules for graduation are stupid.” “Why do they have all these rules on how we need to dress?” “I’m just going to show up in t-shirt and jeans to graduation and if they try not to let me walk we’ll throw down.” “Why do I have to wear a dress? I never wear a dress? This is stupid!” “When I get my diploma I’m going to moon everyone.” “When I go up I won’t shake anyone’s hand and I’ll just snatch my diploma and leave.” “When they call my name I’m going to tell the principal to kiss my you know what.” “Will you be there Ms Cope?” No need arguing about the dress code. They know that their parents have invited all their relatives for this important day and they won’t allow them out of the house unless they are dressed correctly. Their parents have invested too much in this moment to allow anything to mar it in anyway. They will show up. They will march. They won’t disappoint all those who are there for them. Yes of course I will be there.
I remember these conversations and countless others as I shower to get ready for the big show. All roads lead to this moment. They will get the joy of people applauding them. Family and friends will be in the audience cheering them on. It’s different than any other event. When they were born everyone was amazed at the miracle of them. As babies they weren’t totally aware of all the praise and awe they elicited from a single smile or each new achievement. If they participate in sports, drama, music, they know how it feels to have a crowd cheer for them. If not they might not ever now if it wasn’t for this day. This the day that they are the focus of the community and adults are welcoming them to the community as an equal. Relatives might hug them and cry and everyone wants your picture. You are like a star for that shining moment.
I don my black dress, black stocking, and black heels and apply my make-up. I’m trying hard not to awaken my husband. This is part of my job. This is part of my life that I live separate from him. These are the kids that I helped nurture, encourage, and grow, and although he’s heard the countless stories of their successes and failures he doesn’t know them like I do. I hustle out to the car and play a cd of favorite songs.
As part of the ceremony we have to arrive early and I use this time to catch my departing seniors. They stand there looking nervous in their self-confidence. Where they once felt invincible I suspect some of them are beginning to realize that leaving school means leaving a safe secure place we have built for them. I see some of the students who’d sworn that they wouldn’t step foot at the graduation ceremony. I don’t breathe the words “I thought you said….” We both knew they were posturing when they said it. Some hoped that I would beg them to come. Some wanted me to know that they were to grown for school and all it’s childish rituals. They are there and that’s what’s important. They are dressed in suits and dresses and I always get that same feeling when I see them dressed that way. It is like they are wearing their goodbye suit. Their suit symbolizes an end to childhood a new beginning into adulthood.
I run around hugging kids. For most the waterworks haven’t begun yet. Some of them tell me they are nervous. Don’t be I tell them. If I tell them to be nervous would it be better for them? If I told them that they should be nervous because the future is a very frightening thing. Change can be good and bad and they should be vigilant in making the right choices always. No. I tell them not to be nervous. I tell them, as their family has told them, how very proud I am of them. How proud they should be of their achievement. I remind them that this day is a celebration of all those achievements. I hear my name shouted out over and over and I repeat the same words. I want to impart some sort of wisdom or knowledge that age or education has conferred upon me to help them with the new challenges they face but I have none. Each child must meet their life head-on and in their own way. They need to make mistakes and grow from them. It’s easier for me to give them that space because they were only my kids for an instant.
Line-up has begun. I need to get in line with the other teachers. There we are in our sea of black robes. I always laugh and think of Flip Wilson singing “here come the judge”. It’s almost time to begin. The music begins and we begin to march. We teachers know the march. No rehearsals for us. I sit between to teachers that I am friendly with. That’s a bad sign because even in this most solemn of occasions we still find humor in it all. Just like the kids who are graduating the teachers are a diverse bunch. Some of them are strictly by the book. They march, they are quiet, they stare straight ahead, they do exactly what they were asked to do right down to the last period, they do it very well and with no deviation. There are those teachers who have spent most of the pre-line-up time complaining about being there. They talk about the ones they are glad to get rid of. They speak of the crazy parents and how many years left until retirement. I’m part of the group that tries to do what is asked of me. I sometimes like to feel I’m part of the joke and I’m the weepy one.
We arrive at our seats and I look around. The auditorium is filled. I watch the doors where the kids are getting ready to make their entrance. Then they begin their march. There are the honors graduates who march first. All our kids are wearing red gown with yellow tassels. For days they have been practicing turning that tassel. The rest of the graduating class is now marching in an almost seamless line. Occasionally you hear a parent shout out. “We love you DeRon” “You go Michelle”.
This is my principal’s second year here. He is the best principal I have ever had. You can see more of his personality in this graduation. Up on the stage are our school administrators, our school’s administration, our Solitarian, our Valedictorian, and two of our students who are confined to wheelchairs. Both of them were my students, Justin and Kris.
The ceremony begins. The Solitarian speaks of her brother and how he had only been given weeks to live about a year ago. Then she tells us that God in his infinite mercy has allowed her brother to experience a remission and she wants to use his story as a sign of how we can all face challenges in our life and even though sometimes the odds against us seem indomitable there is always hope, there is always a wellspring of strength that we don’t know we have that will allow us to do what we need to do. She tells her parents that she loves them and her brother that she dedicates her diploma to him. The Valedictorian tells us about how flies regurgitate on everything they land on. I didn’t know that. She encourages her fellow graduates to be like a fly and leave a little bit of themselves behind in everything they do. The chorus sings a song about climbing mountains together.
Our principal gets up and gives out four awards to four outstanding students, one male and one female for each category. Then he surprises me. He begins speaking of a student whose life has changed so drastically since he was in the eighth grade. He speaks of a young man who has met so many challenges in his short life but has always met them head on. I hear him talking about what an inspiration he has been to his classmates and even to some of his teachers who have helped see him through. Today the school gave a special award never before given but given to a young man who is unique in so many ways. I’m choking. I’m trying not to cry because then of course I will be the only dorky teacher who is crying. “I’m awarding this special plaque to Kris Blanchard.” I jump to my feet and I’m applauding. I guess in that moment I thought that everyone else had also risen from their seat or maybe I was just so full of the moment I didn’t care if anyone else had. A few second later I realize that while everyone else is applauding I’m the only one standing. I look down. My friend tugs at my gown. Sit down little one. Just as I begin sitting down others begin standing and then the whole crowd is on their feet. “See what you started” my friend teases. I hope you don’t plan on doing this with all your kids.
Our assistant principal begins to speak. One of my friends leans over to me. “You know this is the high point of her year don’t you? This is the moment where all eyes are upon her and she revels in it.” We both laugh.
Now she begins to call the names. How often do you see a person’s name? I mean the name that their parent gave them when they were newborn and hope and joy ran through their heart for that child’s future. You see their first, middle, and last names in the paper when they are born, when they get married, when the graduate and when they die. How often do people say them though? When a child is first born the parents say them over and over. This is my daughter, Catherine Anne Bennie. After awhile they are known by one name. When you meet people you tell people the name you go by but seldom all your names. This moment, this moment when you graduate it is as though you’ve been named again. That this time your name is now being said aloud for the first time as an adult. The name given as a child takes a new significance.
None of the kids who swore they would moon the crowd, spit in the principal’s face, give his teachers the finger, go through with their empty threats. Sometimes you never know. Despite being told to hold the applause you hear screams from the audience, applause, and even an occasional air horn. Ok so the air horn is over the top but still you watch as the student looks up into the audience as someone shrieks his name. He smiles and walks briskly over to the reception line on the stage to get his diploma. Once the diploma case is in his hand he proceeds to take the steps back to his seat. Often they stop at raise it above their heads. Sometimes you see them fingering the cover and looking back out into the audience. They walk swiftly back to their seats.
The diplomas are conferred. The tassels are turned. The music begins and they begin to file out. They walked in as students. They walk out as graduates. Look out world, here comes the graduates of 2006. Better yet, look out graduates, here comes the world.
posted by Princess Golden Hair @ 7:34 AM
