Commencement 2013

This school year, Dear Imaginary Reader, has just drawn to a close. The halls and classrooms are silent and empty. The wastebaskets are overflowing with student work, the books are being counted, and the tests are being taken. The custodians have moved all the desks out of our rooms, leaving big empty caves where debates once were held. The cafeteria's supply of Mystery Meat has been stored  in a 55-gallon drum for another summer, to be resurrected in the fall as Sloppy Joes. The basketballs and lacrosse balls and tennis balls are stored  in the Red Keep of the Athletic Dept., and the fields are just rectangles of  empty greenspce.   There are piles of grading and rating and sorting,  and as Cage the Elephant reminds us there ain't no rest for the wicked.

But it's over. The river of school year 2012-2013 has flowed on out of the door.

It's hard to believe that the seniors have left the for the last time. That I won't see that 3rd Block 11th grade class argue about ethics. That Eric won't ask to watch a movie ( every day) and that I won't have to tell Jordan, No, you can't go to the bathroom when I see your friend waiting outside the door for you. The 6th block class with 19 boys and three girls, who proclaimed themselves a "sausage fest" on the first day of class is gone. For good.

Ok, teachers: Exhale.The students already have.

 It takes more than just one teacher to educate a child. It takes  parents & grandparents,  it takes students, it takes coaches, it takes friends that will let you copy their homework in study hall.  It takes Socrates,  Rene Descartes, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln,  Mark Rothko, and the entire English Canon of Literature.

It takes Boo Radley.

So here are some things I think need to be recognized as this school year ends. Some are good, some are bad, some are ugly. But all of them deserve recognition. They were part of the year that flowed, raged & surged through the school hallways in 2012-13.

Here's to the distractions that impeded our students: here's to cellphone pacifiers that can't be put away; here's to texting, the new literacy; here's to Snapchat and Instagram and of course Twitter- 140 characters filled with sound and fury, signifying nothing. Here's to midnight movie premieres and Call of Duty release days and NCAA Final Four games in overtime. Here's to cars and prom dresses and pedicure appointments. Here's to standardized testing.

Here's to  the hopes students had that deflated after they took a preassessment. 

 Here's to the parents this year: lenient parents who let their kids sleep in; strict parents who pulled their kids out of school in May to be homeschooled; divorced parents who played ping-pong with their child's hearts to hurt each other, and only hurt the kids; parents who were happily married, who treasured their children, and who  came to every open house and sports event. Parents who emailed you about grades. Parents you couldn't contact. Parents who took their daughters on a cruise right in the middle of the semester (tickets are cheaper then, you know).Parents whose  daughters had cancer. Parents whose daughters were pregnant. Parents whose children were arrested. Parents who children had to go to rehab.

If there's one thing I have learned about parents, it's that they all love their children, each in their own way.  Someone once told me: "Nobody ever sets out to be a bad parent. Everyone is doing their best, the best they know how." 

 And here's to the teachers: the teachers who stayed up late grading papers; the teachers who stayed in their rooms with kids who needed a place to be safe; the teachers who missed their own child's school play so they could meet with a student or a parent.

Here's to the teachers that lost students: the teachers who had a student drop out; the teachers who saw kids come hungry to school; the teachers who saw students struggling with illness or fear or parents. The teachers in Illinois who lost a senior girl two days before graduation in a freak accident.The teachers that lost students to gangs or jail.  The teachers of Peter and Joshua Pilato. The teachers of  Tomasz Kaczowka and Mike Chippierini.  The teachers who knew a student was in trouble but couldn't do anything because they were "just a teacher."

Here's to the teachers of Newtown.


 And lest we forget why we teach: Here's to the students:  the students who got up at 4 am for hockey practice and then came to school; the students who stayed up late doing homework so they'd be prepared; the students who worked until 10 or 11 pm so they could save for college.  Here's to the students who couldn't seem to get it right but finally did.  Here's to the students who came to school with allergies, colds, sore throats, extracted wisdom teeth, broken bones, wheelchairs and crutches. Here's to the students whose schedule was so cramped they ate lunch in class every day. Here's to students who saw a friend in trouble with drinking or drugs or illnesses and tried to help- and cried when they couldn't. Here's to the students who tried their best, and here's to the slackers. Here's to the students with multi-colored mohawks, facial piercings or tattoos; here's to the students in shirts and ties. Here's to the students who battled depression. Here's to the students who walked in the light.  Here's to the Class officers and Student Council reps who tried to lead and organize their classmates.  Here's to the students who couldn't wait for Senior Year to be over so they could get the hell out of high school. Here's to the students who walked in 20 minutes late with Dunkin' Donuts bags and steaming cups of coffee in their hands.

If you walk in late with coffee in your hands, you'd better have one for me. Just sayin. 

Heraclitus once said: "No man steps twice into the same river twice, for the river has changed, and so has the man." Sometimes it's good to leave those rivers, go far away from the familiar landscapes, either by wandering or to a predetermined destination, so that when you return, you have the perspective needed to appreciate what is there. Goodbye, 2013. See you in September. You won't be the same river, then.