Continuation

I wrote a few years ago, for another blog, about my oldest daughters 5th grade graduation. I hated it. I went but I was resentful. I went because that's what "good" mothers do and I didn't want to be labeled as a "bad" mother. Especially since I was the president and treasurer of the PTO. (Conflict of interest?)

The school refused to allow it to be called any kind of graduation. They referred to it as Continuation, even though the kids didn't continue at that school. No pictures of scrolls or caps. Nothing to allude to the idea of graduating. Because, I kid you not, they were afraid the kids would think they were DONE with school. That they had graduated. This was discussed in LENGTH at the PTO board meeting with the principal and my honest reaction was "If we have kids stupid enough to think that they are done after 5th grade then we have a lot more issues than not showing a cap and scroll." I'm obviously popular with the principal. (And only the incoming PTO Vice President this year.)

I thought my 8th grade graduation was lame when I had it. LAME. Dressing up for no reason. I don't honestly remember anything about walking across a stage or anything although I'm sure I must have. I just remember fighting with my pantyhose.

Kylie had a graduation of some kind, maybe from a day care in Alaska? I don't remember it at all but I suspect that I wasn't there. I think it was from Montessori or something while she was visiting one summer. I only even think about it because I seem to remember a picture of her in a cap and gown.

So suffice to say, I'm not at all excited about silly school graduations that happen before high school. I kind of think it's a big deal about nothing and that it's yet another example of what is wrong with us as a society. We have to make EVERYTHING a big deal and can't just let things progress as they should. We rarely teach kids about winning and losing, we rarely let them just BE without someone sticking a camera in their faces to make a milestone out of every.single.thing.

That said, Lulu's Preschool graduation is this Friday. I can ALREADY feel the tears coming. I'll be that mom. You know, THAT one. Standing in the aisle, trying to get the best shot of her daughter singing horribly out of key in a tshirt I paid too much money for. Why?

Because in my mind that is still my littlest. That is still my baby. She's made leaps and bounds this year in preschool. She has fulfilled every request I would have had for her to learn and develop and fine tune, if I could have articulated them.

She won't go to that school next year. Next year she graduates to a real public school. When we drive by it she gets extrememly excited and tells me all about how she'll be a DARTH MOTH kid (Dartmouth) and she'll get to help Ms. Cammie (a family friend who works at the school) and she'll have a new teacher and a WHOLE BUNCH of NEW FRIENDS and a new playground and a new daycare and, and, and.... she's excited. She's ready. She's beyond ready.

So for her this really is a graduation. She's done. With that school, with that teacher, with those friends. She's moving on to the big leagues.

So yeah, I'm going to cry. And laugh. And hum that horrible song over and over and over again until my co-workers want to kill me.

Come on Friday!