2010

The class of 2010 is obviously awesome. And no, my huge bias doesn't play into that statement at all... I have a number of friends who commenced at my college last weekend and two sisters who will finish high school and college (respectively) very soon. Unfortunately, simple living translates into no flying home over Memorial Day weekend for my sister's college commencement. It means no flying home to wave and cheer for the class behind me. It means I can't skip our closing Mass to be present as my youngest sister completes her career at the top high school in the nation.

Therefore, I only get to attend one graduation this year, and it belongs to the 8th graders I have taught since August. My 8th grade class was given a smile and a wave as we transitioned from one public school to the next. From the way these kids, their family, and the school culture treats this graduation, one would think that they were graduating high school. The very name graduation was a misnomer, but that, in the internal culture of the school, is what it was.

Friday marked the 8th graders' last day of school. In my favorite part of their graduation exercises, they burst onto the playground for the last half hour of the day with water balloons and cups of water to douse the 7th grade. The seventh graders scattered, screaming, to hide behind teachers and in buildings. The 8th grade had the clear advantage : they are 24, as opposed to 13.

Saturday, yesterday, we held the graduation ceremony. One of the parishes with which we are affiliated is located about 2 minutes up the road, so we gathered there. The 8th graders had caps and gowns (royal blue for boys, silver for girls). While these are school colors, I disapprove of the silver; it was not the best color on these girls. They processed in at the beginning of Mass, a feat which they had practiced amply and executed with minor silliness and no disaster.

But putting mortar boards and shapeless gowns on 14 year olds does nothing to change who they are. So after the walking in, which they had practiced amply, they went back to being their normal selves, just in funny outfits. Since the faculty processed in too (which I didn't find out until basically when we were walking), I had a front and center seat to see them chatting with each other and fidgeting with their 2010 stoles.

I also had a front and center seat for the more beautiful moments. For example, when the principal called the honor roll, he read one name that no one expected to hear, least of all the girl to whom it belonged. Her face registered, shock, surprise, delight, and disbelief, all compete and equal.

When the valedictorian stood up to give his address, I could see his face clearly as well. This kid is a basketball star, a straight-A student, as genuine of a nice guy as you can come by at our school, and has all the confidence of knowing it. He regularly speaks up in class and on behalf of his class. So the idea of giving a speech didn't seem to phase him -- until he stood up in front of the huge crowd. His nerves were written all over his face as he stared out at them and started his address. His first words didn't come from his paper : "I'm really nervous; this's lots of people..."

Then the principal handed out the diplomas. In a class of 24, that's not too painful. And it hit me that although a middle school graduation might seem ridiculous to me, it means something here. Kids in this demographic statistically end up high school drop-outs or flunk outs. They get in trouble on the streets and land in jail before they graduate high school. But as of today, in this moment, in this here-and-now these 24 are on the right track, heading into high schools, looking to become something more than statistics.

And that means something.