 |
||||||||
 |
||||||||
|
||||||||
|
The littlest grads
By LISA GREENE
© St. Petersburg Times,
The first graduate is solemn-faced, looking neither right nor left. The next waves excitedly at everyone she sees. Parents snap pictures, run their camcorders and try not to cry. But these graduates are a little different from most. For starters, they're too short to see over a steering wheel. And they're not marching to Pomp and Circumstance, but to The Rainbow Connection, a song immortalized by Kermit the Frog.
Run by First United Methodist Church, the Tarpon Springs preschool is one of many around Pinellas County, and increasingly around the country, that end the year with a graduation. Out of three dozen Pinellas County child care centers surveyed, more than half have such ceremonies. For the children, finding meaning in the ceremony is simple. "It means you're going to sing," says Greg MacNeill, 5. For adults, it's a bit more complicated. Many parents find it a tearful reminder that their children are growing older, a step closer to achievement tests and driver's licenses. Several companies welcome the ceremonies because they enrich corporate coffers. But some educators criticize the ceremonies, saying they exploit the children they're supposed to celebrate -- especially as the time span between diapers and Britney Spears worship keeps shrinking. From any angle, it's a sign that childhood just isn't the same as it used to be. A few hours before her son, Michael, was to don his blue robe, Cheryl Acerra was at the hair salon and overheard another woman talking about such ceremonies. "She thought it was ridiculous, when it was just preschool," Acerra said. Some agree. Directors at some Pinellas preschools dislike the idea of parading their 4- and 5-year-olds. "We don't want to stress performance at this age. It's not developmentally appropriate," says Denise Roach, director at St. Jerome Early Childhood Center in Largo. In a recent issue of the newsletter for the Association for Childhood Education International, a Texas educator criticized the ceremonies as an unnecessary expense that makes later graduations less meaningful and that causes stress for young children when they "put them on display." Ann Levy, director of Florida State University's Educational Research Center for Child Development, is a board member of the influential National Association for the Education of Young Children. She has mixed feelings about the ceremonies. "Children do seem to grow up faster than we did or even my own children did," she says. Graduations can pressure children too much too young, she said, and she doesn't have them at her preschool. But Levy recently went to a kindergarten graduation and "just loved it." It was her granddaughter's. At Gospel Train, director Bysie Withers says her children enjoy the ceremonies. It's been a 16-year tradition, long enough that the first graduates also have graduated from high school. "We keep it short, personal to them, and don't take advantage of them," Withers says. "If I felt they weren't enjoying it, we wouldn't do it." Dozens of other Pinellas preschools have similar events, with children dressed in everything from caps and gowns to matching T-shirts to their Sunday best. At one Clearwater KinderCare, the teacher recites a poem with a line about each child. At Cornerstone Preschool, children say what they want to be when they grow up. At the Clearwater Children's Center, children make their own cardboard caps. There were no reports of valedictory speeches or honorary degrees. Similar ceremonies are being held more often around the country. Rhyme University, a California company that sells caps and gowns just for the nap-time set, says sales have gone up 25 percent each year for the past three years, helping the company's annual sales increase to more than $4-million. This year, orders for tassels doubled and the company ran short. Rhyme, Balfour and other companies also offer diplomas -- decorated with Mother Goose or jungle animals, rocket ships or ABCs -- and even class rings. Little tykes can pick up a gold-plated brass ring for $3.50 or splurge on a $19.95 sterling-silver version. Once, Acerra could have sympathized with the naysayers. Before she had children, parents' tears sometimes surprised her. Even as her son Michael prepared for the ceremony, Acerra expected cuteness. She was unprepared for her tears. "When it's your child, it's something special," she says. * * * Michael Acerra stands with his friends in his royal blue gown, getting last-minute tips from teacher Barb Kovar: Look at the audience while you sing -- unless you can't remember the words. Then look at Miss Barb. "So grown up! You guys look like you're in kindergarten already," she tells them. Then the 29 members of the class of 2001 march in. They sing songs and their parents see a slide show. Each child walks up to receive a diploma and poses for pictures as Withers reads the child's description of a favorite recipe. There are hugs and flowers, and everyone troops next door for balloons and cake. This year was good. Several of the parents cried. None of the children did. Acerra wipes away her tears and ponders why the ceremonies are becoming more popular. "Maybe it's that kids grow up so fast now. For high school proms, the kids rent limos," she says. "Everything's more grand now." And childhood no longer passes in uncounted days of trapping lightning bugs and climbing trees. "These children are scheduled," Withers says. "They have play dates, they have music lessons, they have sports. The moms are very focused and make sure they have every advantage." Graduation is one more date on the calendar. Maureen Spenlau, who had just seen daughter Bailey graduate, points out that more parents work. "And more people are having children later in life," she says. "You want to appreciate it, to make every moment count." Acerra is counting those moments now, as Michael runs around the reception with his friends. "It's cute and adorable and it breaks your heart," she says. "It's leaving behind his childhood and going into his school years. And he's my baby."
 © 2006 • All Rights Reserved • Tampa Bay Times
490 First Avenue South • St. Petersburg, FL 33701 • 727-893-8111 
|
From the Times North Pinellas desks |
