This afternoon, at 3:00 PM, at Breslin Auditorium in East Lansing MI, my son received his high school diploma.
It’s been a long haul. From kindergarten where he told the principal and librarian both, “You’re not the boss of me”, to Jr. high where he went through the grunge look phase and teachers were asking me if he was a devil worshiper (oddly enough, not his English teacher even when he wrote on a theme about how our family celebrates holidays “and on the first day of spring, we shave the family goat and prepare for the ritual”).
and on through high school where he developed this mysterious allergy to math homework.
We’ve survived several suspensions (anywhere from a day to 10 days) for things ranging from a shoving match in the cafeteria, hiding a substitute teacher’s cup as a prank, bouncing a ball in the hallway, etc.
We’ve survived illnesses (sinus surgery last year, a ICU stay the year before), injuries (broken collarbone, sprained hands, ankles, etc.) has been on crutches some 15 times during his career, been on soccer teams, swim teams, Teen Court, Peer mediation, drama clubs, coached the girls soccer team, played in the school band and marching band,
got his pic in the yearbook dozens of times ranging from painting himself up for football games to oddly colored hair etc.
Each student was given a rose. During the commencement speaches, one administrator told them the roses were given as a symbol of not only how far they’d come, but of their future as well. They were told to give the rose to the person who’d meant the most to them, helped them the most.
He gave it to me.
Pardon me, I have to go cry now.
