Commencement

Our high school's graduation was last week. Our principal asks (mandates) that teachers come adorned in academic regalia and sit in the front three rows, facing the graduates sitting on stage.

Brandi spotted me in the crowd, smiled, waved, and pointed to her mortar-board while giving me a thumbs-up. I smiled and waved back.

Between my friend/colleague Emily and I, we have taught almost the entire graduating class at some point in their high school careers. We made a game of determining which students should and should not graduate, based of course on a scale of A to E.

Emily has also taught Kyle, and (if possible) has an even lower opinion of him than I do. Although she did not teach Neal, she has heard enough about him from me and other colleagues to know that the nineteen-year-old is not qualified to receive a high school diploma.

I successfully managed a smile and applause for even these students (and was even able to control my gag reflex). Afterward, a number of faculty members met at a nearby dive bar/restaurant for a few quick drinks.

I wasn't prepared to see so many students and their families. Some of these students I adored, and genuinely enjoyed speaking to them outside of school. I was caught unawares, however, when Neal's mother came and tapped me on the shoulder.

She introduced me to Neal's father, and they both thanked me for my hard work...and Mrs. V. even apologized for her behavior. I remained positive, stating that Neal had done it, and I hope that he learned that he will succeed when he puts forth effort. I of course said hello to Neal, and wished them all the best.