graduation

Before you crazed, conspiracy theorists get your knickers in a knot, my blog is neither an elementary schoolyard chant, nor a death threat. It’s about high school graduation–you know it’s that time of year when hopefully, most teens manage to earn a diploma. Somehow I did in 1966. Sixty years ago!

Sixty years ago we had: rotary-dial phones that plugged into the wall, transistor radios, and black and white TV’s. We knew how to read our analog watches, return soda bottles to the grocery, load film in our cameras, and use a map if we were lost. We learned to type on a manual typewriter, calculate with a slide rule, and use the card catalog, encyclopedias, and dictionaries. The vast majority of our parents kept us under watchful eye. We were expected to be polite and respectful. We were expected to go to church. And if we got in trouble at school, our parents rarely debated our innocence.

And while I was elated to graduate in 1966, my guy friends faced the uncertainty of being drafted and sent to Vietnam. Food prices soared sparking protests and picket lines around grocery stores. Little did we know that our thriving city would die a slow, painful death eight years later when all of the steel mills closed. Thankfully, NO member of our 400+ class is on the Vietnam War Memorial. Thankfully, over half of us are still alive and struggling through health problems, operating our frustrating high-tech devices, and bragging about our kids and grandchildren.

Even though I’m old, I have great faith in the future. Just as I was sixty years ago, 2026 graduates are faced with uncertain times, rising prices, war, and serious socio-economic and environmental issues. But please know the majority of we oldsters are rooting for you to confront and confound these issues and to champion peace. Congratulations.

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“There’s a time for joy. There’s a time for tears. A time we’ll treasure through the years. We’ll remember always graduation day.”

On Thursday night, I had the honor of addressing graduates at two of our high schools. As I surveyed the audience, I saw both tears and an abundance of joy. I spoke about several students of the class of 2018, whom had overcome insurmountable odds to receive a diploma–a Congo refugee, who had been raped and fled to America with her baby. This senior mastered English in less than six months, worked, and went to school full time and earned a scholarship to nursing school. I spoke about a special education student who was a member of the golf and the tennis team and the concert band. I spoke about a male dancer who’s a character of the video game, So You Think You Can Dance, –yes, he’s that well-known, and a guy who invented a new guitar pedal, which will revolutionize modern music.

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When I reflect on my high school graduation–over 50 years ago, I remember how special it was for the families of many of my classmates, whose parents were immigrants. I remember the fabulous graduation parties with wonderful ethnic food. And I remember the brewing war in Viet Nam. While it was a joyous time, it was also a time for fear.

Last night, my neighbor (originally from England) asked, “Sue, what’s up with all this graduation bs? In England, high school graduation was expected. University graduation was cause for a celebration.”

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Now, I could have launched into a long oration about the history of American education and the symbolic, significance of high school graduation, but I refrained. For me, high school graduation is the first educational mile marker on the road of life. Yet, I’m dismayed it has been both marginalized and commercialized by such ludicrous traditions of preschool, kindergarten, sixth grade, and eighth grade graduations. Caps and gowns, limos, and parties ad nauseam for mere children? Why?

Dr. Suze Espouses

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Graduation Day