Graduation Day

For two hundred-sixteen of the capped and gowned it was once in a lifetime; the rest of us are old hands. We don hoods we never remember how to fasten. We inspect shoes and ties and look for contraband we don't really expect to find, except maybe. We joke and take pictures. Tap our feet at the tardies. Resolve minor emergencies. Straighten tassels. We walk in to the same song that we always walk in to. Stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down. Applaud, walk out, well done.

That's the annual outline, the habitual action, but it is not the story of graduation day, not of this or any year.

This year was a hug from one member of the social studies department who'd just survived his first year with six of my kids and me cornering his colleague to ask after one of my supposed graduates, "But did he really pass? I mean, really?" Ms. P. might put cash in graduation cards, but she doesn't believe in gifts.

This year was a spontaneous, genuine standing ovation for one of the class speakers, a young woman who did not clank when she walked like the other, overachieving participants, so weighted down with awards and medals and other proofs of their specialness. Perhaps there is no high school prize for the gift that she has, to say the right thing at the right time, confidently and well, but we won't forget her, and I know she'll remember the applause.

This year was spotting one of my families in the bleachers and realizing my seat three down from their daughter likely means that I'm in more than my share of video footage. I smiled but resisted the urge to wave.

This year was good. The main address was by turns funny and thoughtful, and the choir only inflicted one treacly "I'll remember you all until I die" song upon us. The feeling in the gym was more of enjoying the moment than counting the minutes and that is in itself a graduation gift. Most years we're all as desperate to be finished as we were when the board member gave her totally inappropriate "be glad you're not starving in Africa" speech, but even if it had all been as uncomfortable as that few minutes were today, I would have been glad to be there, because this year, and every year, are all about seeing things through.

It's about seeing that kid walk up and get that diploma, about being there one last time. Sometimes it feels like, "We did it." And a muttered, "thank God." More often it's, "You did it! Good for you. Now off into the world." As if it's ever uncomplicated. It's about shared satisfaction and long roads traveled and occasional gratitude, though more often implied than expressed. It's about setting aside worries about what comes next and accepting, "Well, at least they have that."

Tonight the Class of 2008 is celebrating, already moving on. As, I suppose, am I. The difference is that I know exactly where I expect to be, twelve months hence, whenever graduation day falls. I know who I hope to see walk across that stage, and I know how I hope to be feeling. But I get ahead of myself. Really far ahead of myself. I'll get back to the Class of 2009 in August, but today is June. And tomorrow, finally, is Summer.