Last night, “Amelia” graduated from high school. Simultaneously, it was wonderful and very, very sad. Graduation was held in Symphony Hall, a beautiful rococo theater that sits next door to City Hall in Springfield, Ma. This was the initial scene of the (first) massive tornado that struck Western Massachusetts last week. A wonderful giant tree still lay split in half, partly standing, partly felled, in the middle of Court Square, the lovely common which anchors all of the major public buildings in downtown Springfield.
The ceremony was supposed to be joyful. Students, parents, and teachers assembled in a chandelier-hung ballroom at the top of Symphony Hall. Promptly at 6 PM, everyone marched down the stairs, down the left side aisle, and across the front of the theater. First came the teachers followed by the graduating students, accompanied by their parent(s). At the right aisle, the graduates peeled away (with a final hug) to climb the short staircase, cross the stage, and sit in formation in front of their watching and cheering friends and family. The teachers and parents continued down the right aisle and found seats. It was a lovely symbolic act; kids had been supported in their high school career by parents and teachers but now they were becoming independent as they prepared to go off to college.And every single kid in that graduating class had been accepted to at least one college.
It was wonderful. But sad, because Amelia’s deepest desire was to have her father accompany her down the aisle. He refused, indeed, he didn’t even attend. Neither did her mother. So, once again, I stood in as her parent. I proudly held her hand and encouraged her to enjoy every moment as we took that long walk in front of the packed house, the mayor, the superintendent of schools, and school committee. I hadn’t known before the ceremony but she had been chosen, along with her good friend Karenia, to sing the National Anthem. The girls are very talented and it was lovely.
The ceremony was short, only about an hour. Two students gave addresses, then the politicians, then finally the distribution of diplomas by the superintendent. The speeches, particularly those of the students, were uplifting in their assessment of how this school constructed a real community within the city. It was emotionally moving to have acknowledged, although in coded buzzwords, how real connections had been made between all of the members of the school community.
If teachers can care so much about students, why can’t parents? How in God’s name can a pair of parents who are apparently devoted to each other have such callous disregard for the needs of their own child? How could they totally ignore their child’s important achievement? Amelia is the first girl in their family to not only graduate from high school, she’s the first one to approach her majority without having first become a parent, herself! She’s been lucky but that doesn’t change how hard she’s worked to get to where she is. She deserved better.
I’m appalled. But for one brief moment, her parents have not made any attempt to check on her welfare for her entire senior year in high school. Her father ran into her on the street a few months ago and stopped to talk. That’s it. She might as well be dead to her mother. As a mother, I just don’t get it. I would die if I didn’t hear from Jack regularly. We check in several times a week, at a minimum. And he’s legally an adult! But he'll always be my baby.
Maybe the tree is a symbol for this part of Amelia’s life. The broken part on the ground is her birth-parents. She maintains a relationship with other relatives but serious flaws at the core of her parents endangered her very life; she needed to separate from their defects before they crushed her. The raw wound must scab over in order for her to reach her potential. And she still has to recover from the pain of the wreckage. But there are plenty of people helping her with the cleanup of that mess. Even the fallen wood can be used; just because her parents are broken doesn’t mean they can’t serve some purpose. They just cannot be depended on for any kind of support.
Life hasn’t been very nice to me, lately, but I’ll try to write in the next few days. I promised John that I would write about life in Mexico with Jack so perhaps I’ll post that as I turn my diaries into something that is coherent.
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