Let kids be kids at graduations

By JEFF WEBB

© St. Petersburg Times,
published June 3, 2001

Even though temperatures outside the gymnasium were in the upper 50s, it was sweltering inside, where almost 1,000 people had gathered for the 8 p.m. commencement exercises at the high school in Milan, Tenn.

Most people in the audience had been there as long or longer than the 150-plus graduates, having arrived early to stake out family plots on the always-hard-as-nails bleacher seats. Grandparents cautiously chose their steps, supported by the stronger limbs of their middle-aged children. Young sisters and brothers, radiant in their best spring sun dresses, or blazers and clip-on ties, darted through the crowd on missions to find Aunt Jenny or Uncle Bob and guide them to the spot where the whole family would wait for the first glimpse of the graduate.

Finally, Pomp and Circumstance blared from the loud speakers and the honorees marched single file to their front-and-center seats, resplendent in their shiny robes and mortar boards, the young ladies in virginal white and the young men in passionate purple.

The excitement in the room was unmistakably familiar, and it required almost no effort to drift back 27 years to a commencement at a school gym the next town over.

But on this occasion, I was witnessing the educational evolution of my oldest niece, who had made us all proud by placing fifth in her class and earning a sizable college scholarship in the process.

After the processional was complete, we observed a moment of silence, and then the senior chorus entertained us with two songs they had chosen. Following that, there were speeches by the class president, the valedictorian and the salutatorian.

All that was nice, but let's be honest: It was only a prelude to what most people in the audience came for, which was to see their family member walk across the stage and receive the diploma they've been talking about for the past 12 years.

But before that could happen, we had to hear what turned out to be the first of more than a dozen stern warnings from the school's principal that he would not tolerate any noise from the audience. No clapping. No hooting. No hollering. And, presumably, not even any loud crying.

My niece was one of the first to receive her diploma, along with the other top 10 academic students. As she began that short, long walk, I looked over at her mother, my sister, and saw the tears rolling down her face. Ditto for her dad and granny.

We restrained ourselves and conformed to the principal's wishes, uttering not even one audible gasp or groan of joy. We were guests, and where I was raised, that still dictates compliance at school and church, and listening to your elders.

But dadgum it, I wish we had broken the rules. I wish I -- heck, our whole family -- had stood and clapped and waved at our darlin' Elizabeth. It would have been worth enduring the dagger eyes and acid tongue of the principal who was taking himself way too seriously.

Of course, others felt that way, too, because as the ceremony went on there was inevitable clapping and yelling, which was acknowledged by graduates who waved, showed a peace sign, blew a kiss or simply flashed a Kodak smile.

The principal, frustrated to the point of anger that he had been disobeyed, eventually threatened to have armed police remove the non-compliant moms and dads. It was a gross overreaction and put a damper on the remainder of the ceremony. Fortunately, young people are resilient, and as everyone milled about after the commencement, the needless scene seemed to affect them less than it did the adults who groused about being treated like children.

So, I'll admit my reaction was less than objective when I returned to Hernando County a week later and read about how principal Elaine Sullivan had withheld the diplomas of four Hernando High School graduates who acknowledged the cheers of audience members. Of course, the punishment only lasted a few days and represented nothing more than a chance for Sullivan to impose one last episode of control over her departing pupils. Like the principal in Tennessee, it was an overreaction.

Commencement should be a festive occasion, an opportunity to celebrate an very significant accomplishment and the beginning of a journey into an unknown and often unfair world. Family and friends should be able to share that joy.

There is a time for graduates and parents to be pensive and somber as they ponder the past and reflect on the future. It's called baccalaureate, and that ceremony is designed with that mood in mind. Commencement is a time for levity and emotional release -- within reason, of course.

One has to wonder if principals and other school officials who resist those natural expressions on such a momentous occasion are doing it because they want to maintain the dignity of commencement, or for their own convenience.

I say let the kids be kids on commencement night, and if the adults can share those feelings for a few minutes, all the better.

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