They enter the room, a little awkward in their new shoes – except for the inevitable rebel who opts for neon running shoes.
The youngster who has never been seen without ball cap and scruffy jeans, has on a very snappy new suit and appears to have donned about a decade in years, and an unexpected dignity, with the new clothes.
Kids whose hair appears to have remained uncombed since that lice check last winter have spent the afternoon at the hair salon, with spectacular results.
Students who have never donned formal attire, have come up with gowns and suits that would not look out of place at a New York gala.
Everything glitters and sparkles; school gyms have traded tumbling mats for strings of fairy lights and paper streamers; someone has artfully disguised the basketball nets as chandeliers.
Bemused parents and grandparents sit in the chairs that have been set out for them, their thoughts drifting back to graduation ceremonies from many years past – bouquets of ant-infested peonies the students brought from home flower gardens to decorate the stage; weird punch made of ice cream, pop and a can of pineapple juice, served in tiny paper cups; a valedictorian who was so nervous, she threw up – the punch might have had something to do with it.
Suddenly the school band strikes up what sounds like suspiciously like “Pomp and Circumstance,” as played by the Muppets – most of the fairly good musicians are among the grads, unfortunately. The parents try hard not to wince at a particularly sour note.
And suddenly, no one cares what the band sounds like. The graduates file into the room. A couple of parents sniffle, seeing in their mind’s eye a tiny child in pigtails skipping out to the school bus, and wondering when that child became a beautiful young adult.
Speeches are given, with laughter in appropriate places, mostly. Awards are presented to proud recipients, while even prouder parents snap photos. Finally, the school song is sung for the last time – the band sounds pretty good by this time – and caps are tossed into the air. The graduates cheer and greet their families, posing for more photos.
Outside, an impromptu soccer match breaks out – someone has located a soccer ball. High heels get tossed aside, skirts are hiked up, suit jackets are handed to someone’s grandma, and the game is on.
Graduation may have suddenly launched them into adulthood, but youthful high spirits win out. There will be plenty of time to worry about being proper and dignified later.
Some of the graduation ceremonies happening in June will be similar to this. There will be ceremonies for little ones wearing paper caps, and more formal events for adults that involve gowns, stoles, hoods and other regalia. Instead of diplomas, degrees will be presented.
Whether the ceremony marks moving from day care to regular school, from elementary school to high school, high school to the workforce or post-secondary education, or the awarding of a degree, graduation is an accomplishment, a milestone.
The graduates have devoted tremendous efforts to learning and are ready to move forward. The Class of ’23 has in its ranks the most caring, aware individuals ever. They worry about the environment, poverty and inequality, and strive to make a positive difference. For every one of them who becomes lost in a swamp of drugs and crime, there are a hundred or thousand more who plan to change the world for the better. They have the determination, courage and education to do it, too.
Bravo to the Class of 2023. These are the graduates who have served notice they are not satisfied with the status quo – they want better, not just for themselves, but for everyone.
Some of us look forward to watching them make their mark on the world. Their teachers, parents and mentors will be standing right there beside them, offering guidance when it is wanted, support when it is needed, and applause for their many future accomplishments.
Bravo!
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Pauline Kerr is a journalist currently working for Midwestern Newspapers. She can be reached at pkerr@midwesternnewspapers.com.
