Column: A bit of pomp and circumstance to cap four years of effort

The seniors will march into the arena and down the aisle between seating areas. Two abreast, they will branch off, left and right. They will all turn left to face us, their teachers, before they face front again and sit down.

I love that part.

I’m a school librarian, and it’s a real pleasure for me to see my students graduate. I’ve been district librarian since late 2014, so I remember some of this year’s grads from when they were in sixth grade.

I’ve watched them grow up.

I used to work in the middle school libraries in my district. Back then, I’d eagerly wait to see who the top ten high-school graduates would be, as reported in the local newspaper. When I first started, we had two middle schools, so I would count how many came from each school.

I’d also pore over the class day news story, to see how my former students fared with honors and scholarships. But I never went to graduation.

Then one middle school closed. I moved to the remaining school. When it closed, I relocated to the high school.

I was reunited, so to speak, with the students who had promoted from middle school four years before. Grades seven and eight can be an awkward time for so many youngsters. I was relieved to see that many whom I had thought were struggling were now doing much better.

They were still in school, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. But I could also see that getting involved in band, or drama, or sports had given them a chance to express themselves, to be themselves.

I tend to root for the underdog, but it was also good to see that some students who were hard-working achievers were still plugging away, and would likely to graduating at the top of their class.

So it was that I began going to graduation. I found it was fun to sit in the special area set aside for staff. Besides colleagues from the high school, I might see some teachers from the elementary schools, and sometimes, retirees. I’m expecting to see one former co-worker this year, as this will be the last class she worked with.

Special education teachers often attend, as they work so closely with their students in small groups, and over a period of years.

In our high school, students are in the same homeroom (hopefully with the same advisor) for four years. They graduate by homeroom, with their advisor (in cap and gown, too) on stage with the administrators. I think that’s a lovely touch.

In the last couple of years, students have been able to choose the color of their gown. It used to be that boys wore red and girls, white. 

The band will play, the elite choral group will perform a song. Some of the student speakers will play it safe, others will try for humor and whimsy. I only hope that they don’t embarrass themselves by being mean-spirited.

One year, I was delighted when a speaker mentioned the way a classmate had always made a point of including a fellow student who was extremely shy and quiet. The latter girl had volunteered in the library, and I knew how difficult social situations were for her.

Another speaker noted that there had been music in the library (we’d had a concert series). Imagine that! Wow. Nobody ever mentions the library in their commencement speech, even though I’d like to think we’d played some small role in their success, even if it was just being a relatively quiet place to study.

I’m not nostalgic for my own high school days. I was studious, but I also had fun. I remember my own graduation with fondness. My friend Carol and I posed on the front steps of my house. She stood one step up from me so she could be my height.

Not that I was tall. I was exactly in the middle of the line of girls. We were matched with boys who were in their own order of height. Bob, my partner, was a head taller. His parents, by coincidence, were seated near my parents, and the adults conspired to shout at us as we walked by. Knowing my father, it was probably his idea.

That was a simple shout-out, but families do sometimes get a bit unruly and overdo it. I tell myself that this child might be the first person to graduate in a traditional ceremony, maybe the first person in the family to graduate at all. They have a reason to whoop.

Don’t we all, at the sight of young people who have achieved an impressive goal? I hope I never tire of watching my students throw their caps in the air in celebration. To paraphrase Samuel Johnson, if I do, surely it will mean I am tired of life.