Graduation Stress

Last Wednesday, I packed up the boys in our bike mobile ...not an uncommon event. We rode down to Kinney Drugs to get some Scooby Snacks, then we continued on to the elementary school where we squirmed in our auditorium chairs for 20 minutes waiting for the program to begin. I counted the remaining packs of Scooby Snacks, nervous that I would run out before the fourth graders ever paraded into the room. Grandpa entered after 10 minutes of squirming. Boy was I relieved to see him. We determined the very front row would be ideal. Unfortunately, the entire front middle section was reserved for the fourth graders themselves, so we were relegated to the right side. Conveniently located right behind the piano.

They graduated alphabetically by classroom. Mrs. Civeletto's class was up first. And there was Olivia. No longer a fourth grader. No longer an elementary patron. Already an aunt. I remember these milestones from my own life (I didn't arrive at the last one until I was 23). I remember feeling strangely adult-like the day I officially left elementary school. It was more like a feeling that I should be more adult-like in every way possible. It was awkward. I worried about it that entire summer vacation. The anticipation of entering the three story, locker clad Russell I. Doig Middle School is more than a ten year old should have to spend their entire summer vacation stressing about. I am aware that most of the nation doesn't impose the responsibility of pre-adulthood until 7th grade and I'm sure it's stressful then too, but in T-burg, we think kids should grow up at age 10. Or the elementary facility hasn't grown with the population.

Anyway, there was Olivia, all grown-up-like. We clapped for her and tried to take some pictures. It was difficult to take pictures with a piano blocking the view, while juggling two cranky boys. We only got that one picture up at the top. I know, not so good, but the program went on without a good picture. Soon enough, all of the 4th grade was officially not in 4th grade.

I ran out of Scooby Snacks. Things started to get a little bit hairy and perhaps I was looking for an excuse to scoot before the musical presentation. ***For the musical presentation at my fourth grade finale, I remember standing on the back row of the risers surrounded by my classmates, singing The Wind Beneath My Wings. We had spent many muggy hours practicing the blasted song. I'm sure it was nothing short of painful to listen to, but the only thing I remember is the girl in front of me on the risers passing out mid-song.*** Olivia and most of the other fourth graders were dreading the musical presentation, so why was the audience expected to endure it? Luckily, mothers with whining children aren't expected or encouraged to stay. So, all at once, I stuffed the camera in its bag, stuffed our garbage and miscellaneous items in my other bag, tried to pull up on my pants, tug down on my shirt, secure Gerret to my left hip, sling the two bags over my right shoulder, and grab Nolan's left hand with my right hand, and make a bee line for the emergency exit on stage. Yes, I said the door was on stage, meaning I had the embarrassment of making my grand exit in front of a seated audience. The door was (thankfully) open. Both boys were crying.

As I was frantically exiting the building, I wanted to yell over my shoulder to all those stressed with Middle School anticipation, "Don't worry, you have quite some time before you need to start being adults. Just enjoy your summer!" If only I had known at their age what adulthood is really like (In the kind of way where you know without experience). I wouldn't have stressed the entire summer before fifth grade about being a semi-adult.