On Graduation: Cry Me a River? OK!

(my oldest son's graduation in 2004, when our school was new and there were fewer kids to cry over)

I just got home from the eighth grade graduation ceremony at my son's school.  It was full of the same graduation rituals that have come to define our school's culture for all of its thirteen years:  a slide show of the passing year, a skit by the 7th graders for the 8th graders, and always-inspiring words from our school's founder and principal.

I cried through all of it.

In fact, I've done that very thing at every graduation I've attended.  It doesn't matter who's graduating; my kid or yours.  I will cry just the same.

I remember one year, I arrived with a huge box of tissues.  I tapped the shoulder of a woman in front of me, whose son was graduating, and offered her some of my tissues.

                "I won't need them," she said.  "This is the third time I'm going through this.  I'll be fine."

Fine?  How could she be fine when her son is leaving the innocent environment of elementary school for the uncertain world of high school?  Clearly, she was in some sort of denial.

                "That's OK," I told her.  "I will cry enough for both of us."

It's not that an elementary school graduation is a sad affair.  Far from it!  It is lively and happy and, very often, humorous.  You don't have to look hard to see the excitement on the faces of the graduates as they consider the future ahead of them.  

I guess what trips my emotional switch is that I've known most of these kids since they were in kindergarten.  Our school is a small charter school where everyone knows everyone.   I've watched these kids grow up.  I've supervised them at recess.  I've worked on projects with them.  I've chaperoned their field trips.  I know their families.  And like one big family, we share these common milestones.

It occurred to me as I was driving home that a school is like a garden (well, not like MY garden, full of thistles and weeds, but a garden belonging to someone who actually knows what she's doing.)  Our children start out in kindergarten like seedlings, which are tended and nurtured through the years until finally, they're transplanted elsewhere when they're ready to blossom.  These kids I wept for today are some mighty fine blossoms.

Next year is going to be even more emotional for me than usual.  My middle son will be graduating from high school, and my youngest son  will be graduating from eighth grade.  Two graduations in one year!  How will I cope?  I'll probably be completely incoherent the entire month of June.

If anyone needs me this summer, I'll be the weepy mom with the red nose stockpiling tissues and waterproof mascara.  Graduation is only twelve months away and I want to be prepared.