Pomp, Circumstance & The Mullet
I am a little late in posting this, but a couple of weeks ago my youngest, Nick, graduated high school. Now, if you’ve been following my blog, you know I am not a fan of graduations. They are long, boring and usually a platform for political grandstanding. I won’t bore you with my full rant when you can easily read about it. Click here
Despite my inherent dislike for the ceremonial pomp, I am still disappointed Nick didn’t get an actual graduation. The class of 2020 was shafted big time. They didn’t have a prom. They didn’t have the Belleayre Bash (an all-night graduation party sponsored by a local ski resort). They missed out on the last few months of their childhood and precious memories with lifelong friends. They did have the most epic senior skip day ever, but still…
In January, when Nick announced he was growing a mullet for graduation, (Yes, you read that right – a business up front, party in the back mullet) I told him I didn’t care if he walked across that stage wearing a T-Rex costume as long as they gave him a diploma when he got to the other side. I had no idea then he wouldn’t get the opportunity to show off his hard-core commitment to outdated hair styles. I had no idea how much he would miss out on during his senior year.
While a naturally intelligent child, Nick was a terrible student. He developed a bad case of senioritis in the fifth grade and I spent the rest of his school career dragging him towards graduation. He is pragmatic and practical. Couple these traits with his deep-rooted stubbornness and I knew If he did not see the point in learning about a particular subject, we were in for a long year. He is a hands-on type of learner, always excelling in classes like Glass and Metal Working, Welding and Science of Survival while he faltered in other subjects he deemed uninteresting. In elementary school, he loved to read, often reading books above his grade level. Unfortunately, as a kid who didn’t fit the mold, being forced to dissect what he read took all the joy out of reading for him and he no longer saw the point in reading if it wasn’t fun. This thought process colored his entire academic career.
The only time of the year I could count on Nick to keep his grades up was during football season. He loved football so much, he wouldn’t take any chances that might jeopardize his season. If he couldn’t get a ride to pre-season practice, he would ride his bike eleven miles to the school before a grueling four-hour practice in the August heat. He played through injuries that would have ended most kids’ seasons. Yes, football was a great motivator for him. Too bad it only lasted the first two and a half months of school. Nick didn’t care about his grades, he only cared if he passed or failed. In his words, “It doesn’t matter if you win by an inch or win by a mile. You still win.” Graduation was supposed to be literal and figurative finish line.
When the school first proposed an alternate celebration, I didn’t like what they had planned. The plan was to broadcast a modified ceremony over a local radio station while everyone stayed in their vehicles, after which we would drive throughout the district, parade style. None of this sounded like a good time to me.
As it happens often in life, I was wrong. Yes, I wanted to see him walk across the stage. Yes, I was disappointed COVID robbed him and his classmates of that honor. Yes, I still feel like we jumped the gun by cancelling the ceremony as early as we did. However, I underestimated the dedication to and support of our kids the community would show. Within a quarter mile of the beginning of the route, I was crying like a baby. So many families lined the roadsides, holding signs and cheering as we drove by. I was touched by the love and support Onteora has always shown our students. All I could think of was how this would be one of the last school events I would attend. This makeshift graduation ceremony accomplished exactly what graduation ceremonies are supposed to. It marked the official end of childhood and the beginning of adulthood.
Where did the time go? One minute my baby was climbing onto the school bus for the first time, the next he was rocking a mullet as he posed for staged graduation pictures.
Graduation is a bittersweet moment for parents. On one hand, we are proud of our children’s accomplishments and excited for their futures. On the other hand, it is a harsh reminder that our babies have grown up. There’s lots I’ll miss. I’ll miss watching him play football. I’ll miss reminding him not to spend ALL of his lunch account money on snacks and water he easily could have brought from home. I’ll miss hearing about his day at school. Someday when he moves out (Not yet Nick. No rush to leave your mom), I’ll miss having a house full of teenagers. Yes, I will even miss him making a huge mess in the kitchen.
I couldn’t be prouder of the man Nick is becoming. He is smart, funny and a hard worker. He’s handsome and athletic. He loves animals. Most importantly, he is kind – unless he is deliberately annoying his sisters. I am very blessed to call this young man my son.
Congratulations, my baby, and always remember no matter what you do or where you go, your mamma will always be your biggest fan, your most loyal friend and the home you’ll never outgrow.
