The Business of Graduation

For the first time in my nine years of teaching at North, I actually worked graduation. It is surprising that I haven't signed up before because I bleed blue (I attended the high school where I now teach-the school colors are blue and white). Perhaps part of it was that I hadn't really taught at North long enough to know a bunch of the students walking across the stage. Regardless of the reasons, the 4:30 A.M. alarm happened much sooner than I'd hoped.

Fortunately, my nerves and adrenaline took care of keeping me awake throughout the morning (okay, and one can of Pepsi). I was actually anxious about working graduation because I didn't want to mess up so monumentally that students missed a bus or were seated incorrectly or broke a rule without me noticing. Pretty silly I know, but this was a very big day for a lot of people.

It turns out that North runs graduation like a well oiled machine. I mean everything is labeled and/or numbered and scheduled to the minute. As long as I could do more than convert oxygen to carbon dioxide, I was fine.

6:00 A.M. to 7:00 A.M. was spent in the cafeteria of North wanding kids, making sure they were dressed appropriately, and loading chartered buses. Then we were on our way to the convention center for the ceremony.

We arrived shortly before 8:00 A.M. and had about an hour to wait for our 9 o'clock ceremony. While waiting, students had their official graduation pictures taken and could visit with each other until it was time. I ran around and snapped as many pictures as I could with former students in their gorgeous blue gowns. Of course, I had to also have a couple of shots in my fancy-schmancy academic robes. (Pictures are my life. I'm such a visual nerd.)

Then it was time...

Walking out of the tunnel and leading students to their rows was an incredible responsibility. Like walking them out toward their future. It really is an overwhelming experience. I was mostly overcome by the positivity and pride that vibrated from the crowd. It felt like an electric charge of happiness.

Once we were seated, I asked the girl next to me if she was able to tell her family where the best seats were (we had scoped some out the day before during practice). We both looked in the general area she had chosen and noticed a very handsome marine entering his seat. Tears began to well up in her eyes. "That's my brother!" she exclaimed. I asked, "Did you not expect him to be here?" "No," she said, "It's not that. I knew he was coming. It's just been so long since I've seen him." And that's when I cried.

See, that's when all the political crap that dictates public education stopped mattering. For better or worse, that's when the extra tutoring and late nights at events and report cards and referrals and detentions and dances and spirit days and late work and credit recovery and parent meetings and standardized testing stopped mattering. It all came down to this, and that girl had made it. She navigated a system that is criticized by the media and neglected because people would rather fund charter or private schools instead of building back up the public ones. She made it! And while some students might have just barely been eligible for graduation, many showed up and performed to the best of their abilities for four years truly earning that diploma. Very little else in my life beats the feeling I had at that moment when I realized this.

Then the salutatorian and valedictorian gave their speeches. Yes, I'm going to brag because both were my former students (and I got a shout out in one of the speeches). During the speeches, I was so proud of the girls. I can't even imagine how their families felt because I knew it would be so much more than what I was experiencing. I cried again.

Life needs more graduations! Wait, wait...let me rephrase because I don't need to attend a graduation ceremony every time my kids move up a grade level. Life needs more events that create this Happiness Energy. Sure, in the grand scheme of things our graduation ceremony will go unnoticed by almost everyone who didn't have a child walk across that stage today. But for the 500+ young adults and their families today was a reason to rejoice.

It is a good feeling.