Thirteen years in our wonderful public school system went out in a sputter as my oldest son closed a tab to end his last day of classes his senior year. He remarked how anticlimactic it was, a disappointing end to a difficult year. The class of 2021 demonstrated equal parts grit and grace this year. As a mom, I’ve overindulged to try to make things special, yet nothing I do can compensate for lost milestones. Trappings of teenagedom passed by, a list too long, and honestly, too sad to even recount. As for me, even over 35 years later, I reflect on my senior year fondly (with an admitted sparkle of cheeky mayhem memories). As we were home together throughout the pandemic, I couldn’t help but think how glad I am that I wasn’t stuck home with my parents and brother for 15 months. I’m also glad my son isn’t living the mischievous life I was when I was his age. I’ll take small blessings where I find them.
Our extended time together has brought its challenges as we navigate Bird’s burgeoning desire for independence with my fleeting attempt to hold on to the apron strings just a little longer. He’s testing us while testing his own wings. Who among us has strength and resolve? Our job is almost done, and all we can do is hope we have raised a young man to live the values we imparted. Soon he will be off to not just taste, but devour, independence.
We have many teachers to thank who challenged, nurtured, and guided him over the years. Many of these teachers have become friends, and a few even are like family. It is no secret that teachers are modern-day saints among us, with or without the strife of 2020. They have demonstrated a love and care for their students beyond measure. Many of them juggled their own kids and/or aging parents, yet continued to prioritize our children. They taught to blank screens, encouraged kids who checked out, doled out grace, and continued to be a safe haven. And I wonder, what did we do for our teachers? As usual, not enough. If I carry on about teachers I’m afraid it will start sounding like platitudes. As someone whose currency is words and whose report card always said “talks too much in class,” I am rendered speechless. Suffice it to say, we owe an eternal debt of gratitude to our educators, for they have been the beacons of hope that buoyed us along this journey. We cannot let the silver linings of 2020 vanish. Let’s raise our voices to champion educators in all the houses of government.
Bird had his senior photos taken by all the schools he attended from kindergarten through twelfth grade, and at each stop he reminisced about his favorite teachers, funny memories, and times he was in trouble. He is the apple to my tree, after all.
While senior year has been uniquely challenging, there were glimmers of optimism and encouragement. Joy was not completely abandoned, laughter was not muted. Students galvanized their voices for social justice, harnessing their passion, focusing their energy, and lighting up their souls. And behind every kid, was a teacher cheering him on with fist-pumping pride. Teachers understand that grades don’t make the student, character does. This class of 2021 is a force. We should treat them like EF Hutton; when these kids talk, we better listen.
(All photos by Jason Wolonick, Instagram @jrayfoto)