Please ignore the typos. This came fast and furious in the middle of the night.
When I went to my nephew's graduation ceremony last night, I had the privilege of seeing two former students graduate. One I knew would be there. She had told me at the end of 5th grade she was moving and attending the same middle school as my nephew, and wrote in my yearbook she was going to look for him when she got there. I saw her collect her diploma and pass by, tall, poised, beautiful, big smile and perfect hair, like so many of the other girls graduation ceremonies seem to be created for.
During the ceremony I was scanning the program to find how many names I recognized as my nephew's friends from over the years, and I recognized the name of another student. I wasn't sure at first: It looked familiar, but I had to cross check the name with the memories of who I thought she was before I could say it was her.
Like the first girl, this one was a memorable student but for other reasons. First off, she looked different from a lot of the other kids in her class, and while that is hardly extraordinary in my school now it certainly was back then, and she felt noticeably insecure about it. She was also a head taller than most of the others, and having this thick tuft of curly hair up on top that was always just on the verge of getting out of control didn't help that. She often walked around with a slight hunch trying to make herself smaller. Her family was new at our school that year, and they came to us with what I will graciously describe as some challenges in their lives. Things weren't easy for her even beyond that since she had some academic and emotional difficulties, and if that wasn't enough, she was hit by a car while crossing the street one spring evening only blocks away from our school.
Even though she functioned well enough inside a small group of girls she spent time with, she only ever seemed to have one real friend. This other sweetheart of a girl noticed they lived nearby each other soon after the school year began and asked her to play after school one day, seeing that she was new to the school, didn't have any friends yet and probably needed one. I don't t think there's anything more heroic one kid can do for another than that. It was this one real friend of hers who kept us updated on her progress while she was away from school and healing from her accident.
Her emotional troubles led to occasional outbursts, which were off-putting and intimidating for the other students. I clearly remember her fall conference that year. Her mother talked about how happy she was with the transition to a new school, but had been concerned and upset one week in October when she had to struggle to get her daughter on the bus and even come to school. It had been so out of character she figured something had to be wrong, and when they talked to another teacher she worked with to find out what was happening, she learned her daughter didn't want to come to school because I wasn't there. This was the week of school I missed right after my sister died.
All of the kids knew that was a big event in my life, and they each dealt with it in different ways. Some broke down crying at the news and had to talk to the social worker. Many of them made sympathy cards. Some came with their parents to the visitation. This girl bought me a gift. Years before my sisters had given me this huge stuffed three-foot shark as a gag Christmas gift, and I kept it on display in my classroom because I couldn't think of anything else to do with it. The kids loved it and it became a centerpiece every year. While out looking through garage sales with her family, this girl spotted a much smaller but identical version of that same stuffed shark, and absolutely demanded that her mother buy it so she could give it to me. I still have it to this day.
I wasn't completely sure it was going to be this same girl graduating until I saw her face appear on the big screen in Mariucci Arena and heard her name read. But there she was. She was so much more mature and slightly ill at ease amidst the ceremony, but it was absolutely recognizably her. I tracked her across the stage, watched her proudly cross the floor in front of me, whispered a congratulations she couldn't possibly have heard, and just smiled. When my nephew's best friend got his diploma, I had a huge grin. When my nephew got his, I choked up. When the girl I knew I would see got hers, I just basked in the confidence she exuded. When this last girl picked up hers, my eyes immediately filled with tears.
So of course as my family was leaving, I saw this girl standing with her family at the bottom of the same escalator I was riding down, and knew I had to say something. I reached the bottom, walked over and called her name. She looked at me, stunned for a moment, not able to place my face as someone she would have expected to be seeing in that context. "Do you remember me?" I asked. "From fifth grade?" After a moment her face broke into this shy but guileless smile. I looked over and said a quick hello to her mother, then turned back and explained why I was there, offered my congratulations and said how happy I was to see her.
I woke up this morning at 3:30 A.M., after having some bizarre dream about an invasion of beluga whales or something equally disturbing that luckily I can't fully remember anymore. As soon as I realized I was awake, I remembered that I had just seen my nephew graduate from high school last night, and that today was going to be the first day of his adult life. Then I remembered seeing this girl, and knew I'd have to sit down and write about it if I was going to have any chance of falling back to sleep.
And thankfully I still have four more days this week I get to teach.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Graduation Day
Back in the fall I mentioned how this school year felt more significant than most since it marked my twentieth year of teaching. I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time, but it’s also a pretty big year for other reasons as well: Not only is this year the last one any of my nephews will be down at the elementary level with me as Nephew #3 moves on to middle school, but it’s also the year that Nephew #1 graduates from high school.
One one hand, it’s an exciting time. Graduation is a pretty big milestone. He’s eighteen now. His senior year is over. He’s decided where he’s going to school, and only has to get through another summer of frying up McNuggets before that part of his life begins.
But it’s hard for me to not also see how this marks a definitive ending in his life as well, which is kind of astonishing when I think of everything I’ve done with him over the years: Buying him his first CD; taking him to countless movies, including his first R-rated one; taking turns with him on the drums when my cousins got together to play through a four-hour jam session (at least until he started playing guitar and bass); having a friend of mine write arrangements of some popular rock songs for the bells to try and trick him into practicing more for middle school band; having some deep talks on long drives; seeing several concerts with him; sitting in the corner and watching over him while he had his last conversation with my younger sister, his aunt, hours before she died; waiting in THREE midnight Harry Potter lines at Border’s, one of which he was too young and tired for and hated; driving him to Tae Kwon Do every Wednesday evening for a year and a half and then having dinner at Subway afterward, where he ordered the same sandwich every time -- I do not exaggerate. I vividly remember his crackling, pubescent voice saying “Turkey and bacon sub on Italian with lettuce, mayonnaise, and American cheese.” Obviously I could go on and on here.
I know that in almost every instance the title of Godfather is an honorary one at best, but I took it to heart, particularly after he lost a godmother who had been very involved in his life and loved him and his brothers more than anything else on Earth. And it’s never been lost on me (particularly after the number of times his mother has pointed this out) just how many ways the two of us are alike. You know that saying about “If I only knew back then what I know now?” There have been more than a few times I’ve wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him when I see him making the same mistakes I’ve made. But I know it wouldn’t do any good, just like it wouldn’t have for my high school self. Because back then I also would have been positive that I knew what I was doing better than anyone else, and I wouldn’t have listened much either. And I’ve made it this far, so there’s probably hope for him as well.
Not long ago we were all at a visitation, and while he sat talking about college plans and economics with his step-brother’s college graduate girlfriend, I had a moment of seeing him going beyond the person he’s always been and instead saw a flash of the person he’s about to become. It’s a perfectly natural transition for where he is in life, and it’s one that he’s more than ready to meet.
But back at my sister’s house, things are different. Now there are more cars in the garage than bikes. The swing set has disappeared from the back yard. There used to be an entire room taken over by Legos, and I don’t even know where they’re stored anymore. The boys are growing up. And the only thing left between Nephew #1 and UW-LaCrosse is a summer of Xbox, guitar, frying up McNuggets and getting in a couple of post-senior victory lap months with his friends before they all move on to all that's yet to come.
Whenever I drive past Andover High School now, it has never looked smaller.
One one hand, it’s an exciting time. Graduation is a pretty big milestone. He’s eighteen now. His senior year is over. He’s decided where he’s going to school, and only has to get through another summer of frying up McNuggets before that part of his life begins.
But it’s hard for me to not also see how this marks a definitive ending in his life as well, which is kind of astonishing when I think of everything I’ve done with him over the years: Buying him his first CD; taking him to countless movies, including his first R-rated one; taking turns with him on the drums when my cousins got together to play through a four-hour jam session (at least until he started playing guitar and bass); having a friend of mine write arrangements of some popular rock songs for the bells to try and trick him into practicing more for middle school band; having some deep talks on long drives; seeing several concerts with him; sitting in the corner and watching over him while he had his last conversation with my younger sister, his aunt, hours before she died; waiting in THREE midnight Harry Potter lines at Border’s, one of which he was too young and tired for and hated; driving him to Tae Kwon Do every Wednesday evening for a year and a half and then having dinner at Subway afterward, where he ordered the same sandwich every time -- I do not exaggerate. I vividly remember his crackling, pubescent voice saying “Turkey and bacon sub on Italian with lettuce, mayonnaise, and American cheese.” Obviously I could go on and on here.
I know that in almost every instance the title of Godfather is an honorary one at best, but I took it to heart, particularly after he lost a godmother who had been very involved in his life and loved him and his brothers more than anything else on Earth. And it’s never been lost on me (particularly after the number of times his mother has pointed this out) just how many ways the two of us are alike. You know that saying about “If I only knew back then what I know now?” There have been more than a few times I’ve wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him when I see him making the same mistakes I’ve made. But I know it wouldn’t do any good, just like it wouldn’t have for my high school self. Because back then I also would have been positive that I knew what I was doing better than anyone else, and I wouldn’t have listened much either. And I’ve made it this far, so there’s probably hope for him as well.
Not long ago we were all at a visitation, and while he sat talking about college plans and economics with his step-brother’s college graduate girlfriend, I had a moment of seeing him going beyond the person he’s always been and instead saw a flash of the person he’s about to become. It’s a perfectly natural transition for where he is in life, and it’s one that he’s more than ready to meet.
But back at my sister’s house, things are different. Now there are more cars in the garage than bikes. The swing set has disappeared from the back yard. There used to be an entire room taken over by Legos, and I don’t even know where they’re stored anymore. The boys are growing up. And the only thing left between Nephew #1 and UW-LaCrosse is a summer of Xbox, guitar, frying up McNuggets and getting in a couple of post-senior victory lap months with his friends before they all move on to all that's yet to come.
Whenever I drive past Andover High School now, it has never looked smaller.
Friday, June 1, 2012
The Gray Area
I had another retirement party to attend last night. It was for three people at my school, two of whom were on my first grade team back in the first year of my career. Normally a party like this would send my introverted nature into overdrive and I'd be trying to escape the smothering feeling that so many people would be starting up in me, but this was a room full of people I knew fairly well so happily it was a good time. But it was a big closure moment in a lot of ways too, which is kind of dangerous for me right now.
If I start to feel too much like the school year is ending and there is still a week to go, there's a big temptation to start tuning out: There's not as much homework to bring home anymore, I start waking up WAY too early so my daily routine begins to slowly drift into my more summerlike schedule, and it becomes more difficult to invest the same kind of wholesale effort into everything I do that is usually there during the rest of the year. I'm not saying that I completely give up -- I'm just saying it becomes harder not to.
But some catalyst like this retirement party comes along, followed by Track and Field Day today, and suddenly the finish line is in view and the ideas of summer begin creeping in. My summer this year is pretty open at the moment since I don't have any concrete plans beyond the same daily routine I'll eventually fall into, which isn't so bad. But at the same time, there's that whole inertia thing. When there are parts of your life you aren't as satisfied with, whether they are major or minor, it seems like having the better part of three months away from your job would be a perfect time to work on those things. But to get me to shake off the ease of routine? Not something that happens easily. The start of summer is when I can ambitiously start to think about what I'm going to do to take advantage of all this time. The end of summer will have the onset of another school year to distract me from beating up on myself too much for all of the things I never got around to trying or finishing.
I always want to start strong and hope to finish as strong. But it seems I really need someone kicking my butt about it to make it happen.
But it's not all a dark and dangerous time. The last week is one I always soak in, since it's the last few days I get to spend with this group of students, many of whom (but let's not kid ourselves; certainly not all of whom) have become personally important to me. And this year-end has an added element of poignancy for me since Nephew #1 is graduating from high school this weekend -- another post about that likely to follow in the coming days. Plus I've got some changes coming in my job as a long-term colleague is moving on to another school. I'm very happy with who is coming in to take her place, but it's still going to be a big piece of different waiting in the fall. I'm very confident it's going to be a good different though, and I'm looking forward to it.
But not for a few months yet....
If I start to feel too much like the school year is ending and there is still a week to go, there's a big temptation to start tuning out: There's not as much homework to bring home anymore, I start waking up WAY too early so my daily routine begins to slowly drift into my more summerlike schedule, and it becomes more difficult to invest the same kind of wholesale effort into everything I do that is usually there during the rest of the year. I'm not saying that I completely give up -- I'm just saying it becomes harder not to.
But some catalyst like this retirement party comes along, followed by Track and Field Day today, and suddenly the finish line is in view and the ideas of summer begin creeping in. My summer this year is pretty open at the moment since I don't have any concrete plans beyond the same daily routine I'll eventually fall into, which isn't so bad. But at the same time, there's that whole inertia thing. When there are parts of your life you aren't as satisfied with, whether they are major or minor, it seems like having the better part of three months away from your job would be a perfect time to work on those things. But to get me to shake off the ease of routine? Not something that happens easily. The start of summer is when I can ambitiously start to think about what I'm going to do to take advantage of all this time. The end of summer will have the onset of another school year to distract me from beating up on myself too much for all of the things I never got around to trying or finishing.
I always want to start strong and hope to finish as strong. But it seems I really need someone kicking my butt about it to make it happen.
But it's not all a dark and dangerous time. The last week is one I always soak in, since it's the last few days I get to spend with this group of students, many of whom (but let's not kid ourselves; certainly not all of whom) have become personally important to me. And this year-end has an added element of poignancy for me since Nephew #1 is graduating from high school this weekend -- another post about that likely to follow in the coming days. Plus I've got some changes coming in my job as a long-term colleague is moving on to another school. I'm very happy with who is coming in to take her place, but it's still going to be a big piece of different waiting in the fall. I'm very confident it's going to be a good different though, and I'm looking forward to it.
But not for a few months yet....
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