Saturday, June 13, 2009

Madison's 5th Grade Celebration/Culmination/Graduation

Madison. My Madison. You have been looking forward to this day for years. Not that you did not savor each and every moment of elementary school, but you always knew your true calling was talking to friends in between classes. You are such a lover of all things social. You love a list and the organizational aspect of juggling a dozen things. You thrive when facing a busy day. You have been looking forward to this for years. You will do great in Middle School.

But before all that, let us back up a little and discuss the Fifth Grade Celebration. Most schools call it a Culmination. We cannot use the word Graduation because we are not FINISHING our academics, we are just moving from one school to another. There is a fear that if we use the term Graduation with fifth graders, they will drop out of high school (or middle school) because they will think that they already graduated.

Our school could not even bring itself to use the accepted term "Culmination." I guess it means that you completed something. It indicates an ending. So our school calls it a "celebration." I find it quite laughable. We can graduate a pre-school student or a Kinder student. After that, the term is saved for high school and then for colleges. I guess there is no fear that a child will say: "Hey, I graduated from Kinder, so why do I need to finish first grade?" I want my daughters to at least receive their Master's Degrees (PhD is the bonus round.) So I want the high school ceremony to be called "Transition" so they do not think they are done. In the defense of the convoluted terminology, I have seen prom dresses/tuxedos and limos at an elementary school "culmination" because that child was the first in the family to achieve that educational level. Family members thought the rest WAS optional. But I would like to point out that they treated it that way in spite of the side-stepping terminology. I really think they could call it graduation from elementary and it would have no significant impact on drop out rates. (Maybe I will study that when I get my PhD.)

Another indication of the downplaying of the event is going from free-dress to matching T-shirts. Now I admit there was always a hold-your-breath moment when the girl, who has never even worn a wedge before, walks across the stage in her first-ever pair of four-inch heels. But isn't that, in itself, a rite of passage? Yeah, the grass makes it a little scary, but haven't they ever heard of aeration? Golf courses do it all the time. Maybe not in four inch heels, but the effect on the grass is the same.

There are modesty issues with the girls. I'm not sure what the moms are thinking in the store when they buy their daughter their first spaghetti strap semi-formal dress. Maybe for the mom and daughter, it is a rite of passage. To the causal observer, it becomes a contest for Miss Junior Hooker. (That was a little harsh - but you know what I mean.) The schools try to enforce guidelines and dress codes, but it is nearly impossible. So the solution? Put every student in a matching shirt. Voila - no strap issues. Make sure everyone is in shorts/pants/ skirts - no jeans, to make sure that everyone looks essentially the same. Flats/sneakers/flip-flops: Voila - no sprained ankles or falling. How easy was that?

We did have balloons, for those of you thinking they took all the fun out of it. And a banner. And music.

They marched in to "We Are the Champions." I started crying as soon as I saw my girl. I thought I was a pro. This was our fourth graduation in a month and I was an expert by now. I have been through the elementary - just two years ago. I should be a pro. But alas, I still had a few tears to shed as the finality of it all settled in. Yes, in spite of the name, it was an ending. No more individual teacher to deal with. No more nurturing classroom. No more room number to give when picking her up for an appointment. No more birthdays celebrated in class. No more presents made for holidays. No more holidays. It is over.

They sang "Look at Me Now" and "Fifty-Nifty United States." The teachers got up and gushed and gave out awards and gushed. This was the largest group ever. Each year, their group was the largest in the school. Because of that, they did a fairly good job moving the whole thing along, knowing that if they were too wordy, we would be there forever.

The crowd cheered. The parents cried. The cameras clicked. The graduates/ culminators/ celebratorees smiled. In a few minutes it was over.

Such is life. The anticipation takes years and in one short, fleeting moment, it is but a memory. It is the anticipation that is the essence of the accomplishment. The process, the practice, the planning, the pencilling in on the calendar.

Years and years of homework and back-to-school nights and volunteering and clay pinch pots and tacky (sorry, honey) Christmas ornaments and state testing (well that still continues) and performances. No wonder I had some tears in my eyes.

So, if I might be so bold, I would like to say congratulations to my GRADUATE. I do not fear you will drop out, so I feel secure using that term. You have been a truly marvelous elementary student and I have no concerns or reservations about you progressing into middle school. I am proud of you and (sniff, sniff) love you very, very much.

2 comments:

Lisa P said...

We "promote" rather than graduate. Whatever! Con"grad"ulations Madison!

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