"Pomp and Circumstance"

I watched another one of my former students graduate from high school tonight. My friends and I drove to Mississippi this morning, spent the day with friends, attended various graduation-related functions, then waited patiently until it came his turn to walk across the stage. We hooted and hollered (because that's what you do in Mississippi) and stomped our feet. And he knew that his momentous occasion was momentous for more than just him-it meant something to us as well. After a full day, and an evening made longer by the stifling hot gym and hard wooden bleachers, we drove back home. That drive deserves its own story. But I digress....
Because I teach three grades, I often get the priviledge of becoming an integral part of my students' lives. Not everyone I teach makes that connection with me. For whatever reason (usually parent-related), we just don't make that bond. But the others: these are the kids that come back to see me year after year. These are the kids that are now over 18 or over 21, and relate to me on a quasi-adult level. These are the kids who are mine. Forever.
If that sounds a little creepy, it shouldn't. I know their parents; in the case of several of my kids of the years, I've been close friends with their parents. I've been to their homes, eaten with them, watched tv with them, even traveled with them. They become a part of my heart, and I am blessed to be able to say that. My heart is larger because of them. I'm a better person because of what they've taught me. It all sounds so trite, but it's true. So when I watch another one graduate with honors, another one who's on the cusp of something gloriously real like the rest of his life, I feel a tug. His accomplishments are my accomplishments. And I know there are more to come. And I will get to see enough of them that I will continue to feel the twinge of pride and responsibilitity and hope.
I guess I'll even embrace the sadness that will come when life teaches him some of the lessons that just don't come from books. Those are the lessons that aren't generally accompanied by cheering friends and fancily scripted papers touting great achievements. They are the ones where we hope the damage won't last too long. Those are the times when we don't want anyone to see. But I guess how we respond is a measure of our success. I know my former student will respond with insight and grace. And I will be proud of him still.
There will be others to watch march down to Elgar's "Pomp and Circumstance." Time seems to march very well to that song.