Graduation Day

Here is our graduate. Oscar graduated from preschool today complete with pomp and circumstance, mortar board, diploma, and many parents and grandparents.

I'm sorry, Geoff. I forgot to mention that Oscar was graduating today. I just didn't think it was important. Neither did Oscar. The second he received his diploma, he ran over to me and asked, "Can I go and play with my friends some more now?"

graduate: a person who has completed a course of study at a school or college and has received a degree or diploma. [Webster's New World Dictionary]

When I left the "graduation" today I wasn't sure why I was so bothered by this terminology. The ceremony was very cute, and the cake was good, and the company was excellent. By the above definition I suppose you could stretch it and call this rite of passage a "graduation." But really, is preschool a "course of study"? Doesn't graduation imply a little intention and control on the participant's part?

Moving from preschool to kindergarten really has nothing to do with Oscar. He has not performed. By the grace of his optimistic personality, he has made the best of the situation to which he was thrown. Perhaps calling this milestone a graduation might be a good example of how we are encouraging our youth today towards the self-centeredness that the next generation often complains.

Last night we attended Shelebration - a night of poetry by Shel Silverstein recited by Marek and his class. This hysterically funny evening gave the participants knowledge of poetry and performance, group cohesivity, and shared their individual talents with their community. What a way to celebrate Marek's milestone of "graduating" from second to third grade. The grandparents should have been invited to this one. And yes, Geoff was there.

I agree that when Oscar begins kindergarten this fall, this will be a HUGE. He will finally begin his academic life with a group of peers that essentially will remain the same for at least the next six years. I am excited for this stability. But frankly, I would rather Oscar not know of this gargantuan milestone.

Because I remember when Marek began his first days of kindergarten. There I was eight-and-a-half months pregnant, and bodily throwing Marek through the doorway at his teacher and slamming the door behind him. Did I mention I was eight-and-a-half months pregnant?

Really, I do not want to make kindergarten a big deal for my next child. I would rather he take it in stride and accept it as simply the next step in his life. Nothing to be questioned.

Just the next step in life.

This is the point that haunts me. As I prepare to attend the sixtieth birthday party of my Mom and her husband, which promises to have more than 150 guests, I wonder why I don't celebrate my personal milestones more. Last year Geoff and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary by walking down to a neighborhood restaurant - with Matilda.

There is a simple rhythm to daily life. It goes on and on and never ends. And I find it very hard to voluntarily interrupt this rhythm. It is hard for me to plan a party. It is hard for me to go out on a date with my husband or friends. It is hard for me to travel away from it all. I worry that if I interrupt my attention from the rhythm of life, it will disintegrate. And things will never be the same again.

But here's what's really funny. Things WON'T ever be the same again. Tomorrow won't be the same as today. And Oscar will certainly never, ever again go to preschool. And we will both miss it.

So I am grateful that Oscar's preschool teacher's brought celebration to this moment in time that is indeed oh, so special.

But I refuse to think of it as a graduation. I will save that for college.