It's Hard to Say Goodbye

Being a part of graduations is one of the best parts of my job as superintendent. Celebrating our students as they transition from one part of their education to the next is really a privilege. I felt the same way as the St. Johnsbury School graduation began this past Friday. 

It was a gorgeous June evening, with the sun shining down on us. With less than two weeks of preparation, the 8th Grade Team had organized a student-centered, physically distant ceremony. We began with brief remarks, and then the student awards were read aloud. The families of our graduates were assigned a parking spot, and with two strategically placed speakers, everyone was able to hear what was being said. Finally, each family was invited to drive their vehicle toward the parking loop. The graduate got out of the car, and their name was announced. There were horns, cowbells, and shouts of celebration. As the vehicles departed, they drove up our bus loop, which was lined with faculty and staff. By all accounts, it was a wonderful evening. 

I noticed that as each car left the parking loop, there were waves and goodbyes from everyone in the car, as well as the 8th Grade Team. It took me a minute to realize that this felt out of place, and when I did, I understood immediately what was different about this graduation (aside from the obvious). 

At every graduation I have attended, whether as a graduate or an attendee, immediately afterward, there was a gathering of some kind. Whether it was formal or informal, once the ceremony was over, there was a rush to connect with people. Sometimes it was family, sometimes it was friends, sometimes it was faculty members. There were hugs, there were pictures taken, sometimes, there were tears. 

It took me a minute to realize, I was witnessing what happened after the graduation, as each 8th grader drove away with their diploma. I hadn't expected that. 

Perhaps I should have been ready for it. Nothing has felt as it should these past months. Our movements have been limited. We are wearing masks to protect others. We've spent more time in front of screens than any medical expert would recommend. 

Perhaps I should have been ready for it when I almost jumped out of my shoes with excitement to see real people as I arrived at our building on Friday night. They were in front of me, not in a box on a screen. I had to resist the urge to get closer than six feet and offer a handshake or a hug. 

Perhaps I should have been ready for it since there wasn't a single person in the District Office. Each person at the graduation, outside of family units, was six feet apart. The graduation ceremony for the first time was outside. 

But I wasn't ready. 

As I reflected on this over the weekend, I realized that I am now. I'm ready. I'm ready to say goodbye to 2020. To the lack of physical presence, to the Zoom meetings, to the phone conferences. I'm ready to say goodbye to not seeing my friends regularly, to my children not playing sports, to not wondering how close six feet really is. 

And yet, I don't know what the future holds. What will we be saying goodbye to? What will we be holding on to until there's a vaccine? I'm honestly, not sure. 

I do know this. I hope our next graduation will have hugs, kisses, and tears, not just within family units. And OK, it can be outside. 

Photo courtesy of www.deviantart.com