My daughter just came home from her last day of 4th grade in tears. She was upset that the year was over.
“I’m sad because I’m never going to be in the same class with my friends again.”
Going from 4th to 5th grade, it’s likely she’ll only be in class with a few of the same kids next year because school officials like to mix things up. I guess there’s value in getting to make new friends every year. There’s also something to say for continuity and allowing kids to grow lifelong friendships. I could go either way.
Speaking of graduations, last weekend I attended my alma mater’s graduation ceremony. For some reason, when the kids were called on stage to receive their diplomas, I started to cry. And then I couldn’t stop crying. It was kinda embarrassing. I kept trying to think it through, logically, in hopes that the tears would stop but they never did.
A week later, I know exactly why I was crying. There’s something incredibly moving about graduation ceremonies. All the hard work and sacrifice, especially from recent immigrant families sending a first child to college. Seeing the joy on the kids’ faces, watching the silly dance moves or hand gestures to the heavens they invariably make upon receiving the diploma. But the thing that really gets me is hearing the roar of the crowd when a family member’s name is called. The parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and neighbors, all decked out in their Saturday best, cheering with pride that the little pipsqueak they bounced on their knee, gave a bath in the kitchen sink and protected from monsters under the bed is now a full-on college graduate poised to get out there and make a living and, hopefully, make the world a better place. It’s a lot. And it’s beautiful
The other thing that made me cry was the sheer beauty of diversity. The older I get, the fewer people I meet because I’m lazy and I can’t be bothered. I know I’m the worse for it but with back pain still a constant in my life, I often don’t feel like pretending to be happy. Listening to the names walking across that liberal arts stage, and the countries they represent, gives me hope that we’ll eventually figure out a better solution to the homelessness plaguing our cities, the wars impacting our world, and the climate crisis that’ll make it all moot if we don’t make dramatic changes in the next decade.
I also cried tears of empathy with the professor tasked with pronouncing the names of this particular class of 2022. See how you’d do with this small sample size.
Abayomi Adeyemi (Oman)
Temitope Ajetunmobi (Nigeria)
Hama Akhtar (Pakistan)
Mizuho Chiba (Japan)
Sijal Dhakal (Nepal)
Aaryan Dhingra (India)
Minh Hoa Duc (Vietnam)
Luis Mateo Liendo Patino (Bolivia)
Tianchi Mo (China)
Francisco Pina De Figueiredo Bita Bota (Portugal)
Gianna Kwame Sencherey (Ghana)
All across the United States of America, kids from all over the world accepting their diplomas and the challenge to get out there and make something of yourself. It’s enough to bring tears to your eyes.
