Recently, my husband graduated from Notre Dame University with a PhD. I couldn't
be prouder. We went back to South Bend, Indiana, for the graduation ceremony,
where Sam donned the doctor's robe, was hooded by his adviser, and received his
diploma. After six years of grueling classes, tests, and nearly three hundred pages
of dissertation, his education was finally completely over. We grilled some burgers,
and took some photos, and drank some nice wine.
So I was shocked some few weeks later to get a picture in the mail featuring my 5
year-old niece decked out in a blue robe and mortar board, and a note inviting us to
congratulate the little dear on her "graduation" from pre-kindergarten. A quick
conversation with my mother-in-law confirmed that there had been a nice ceremony
for all the youngsters, complete with walking across a stage, music, clapping parents,
gifts, and free ice cream.
And now I was invited to congratulate my niece. I considered sending a card, but I
couldn't begin to imagine what I would say. What are the elements of a
pre-kindergartner's day that merit mention? "Way to go, Em. I'm really proud of how
you managed to show up every day, and got slightly older." Or how about, "I'm so
proud that you didn't bite too many other kids and get kicked out. That's great."
I should probably be sending my congratulations to her mom instead, as she's the
one who managed to get one kid to school at one time, the other to pre-kindergarten
slightly later, and all the while still managing her 18-month-old's needs.
Frankly, I find the whole thing offensive. I understand the need for some sort of
ceremony marking the passage from not-yet-school into actual school, but must it be
a graduation ceremony? Why not just a song and speech sort of thing? Hang some
artwork, serve up ice cream, everybody talks about how much they enjoyed being in
class with everybody else, and call that good. Why do we have to turn something as
mundane as attending a preschool that mainly features snack time, songs, and ball
and parachute games into a source of accomplishment for the kids? No doubt that
these kids all hit some important developmental milestones, but have they done
anything that even remotely suggests the earning of a degree? They walked my little
niece across a big stage to thunderous applause, and handed her a certificate that
she CAN'T EVEN READ. They should have handed her something else, like a
flower, or chocolate, or a bug. At least she would have known what to do with those.
Instead, my niece now has a degree that grants her the right to go to kindergarten,
which, if I'm not mistaken, she is required to go to by law anyway.
I can't help but feel certain that something important is being lost when we insist on
treating normal childhood progress as though it were some sort of grand
accomplishment. I don't mean to say that developmental milestones aren't exciting or
praise-worthy, but I believe that there is an important distinction to be made between
things kids learn to do because they are little humans, and the choices they make as
they grow older to pursue more complicated tasks. It's the difference between
learning to walk, say, and practicing cross country until you can actually win the
sprint. One is expected, while the other is earned. And I worry, frankly, that treating
development that is expected as though it was earned sets the bar for
accomplishment frighteningly low.
Every time I mention my disapproval of the pre-K graduation ceremony to one of my
girlfriends, they all want to know the same thing: what am I going to do when it's my
little girl's turn to "graduate?" And they are right to ask, because they suspect, as I
know, that there's no way that I would ever have the brass balls required to tell the
amazingly kind and tragically underpaid director of my girl's preschool that her
carefully planned graduation ceremony is an affront to my values, and that their
end-of-school ritual should be adjusted to suit my preferences. I just would never
say it. Nor would I ever tell my darling girl that she couldn't "graduate" because
mommy thinks the whole event stinks of made-up nonsense and dressing kids up as
adults for the cute factor. Fortunately, I get to weasel out of this one. The school
we're sending Nell to serves the university community where my husband teaches,
and they have never (so far) done anything
approaching a graduation ceremony to mark the end of school. Perhaps someone
there shares my values. Or perhaps with so many parents having advanced degrees
(and commensurate student loans that they are still paying off), putting graduation
robes on the kids just started to seem like a bad idea. Regardless, I'm blissfully free
to be outraged without having to worry about my own hypocrisy, at least on this one
minor point.
A graduation ceremony is supposed to be the conferral of an academic diploma
marking completion of studies. But a pre-K graduation ceremony gives the
unmistakable impression that graduation is properly understood by its second
meaning: a division or interval on a graded scale. That you simply get older, and
periodically, you get to put on a robe, eat some free ice cream, and get some gifts.
And your strange aunt and uncle might send you a card congratulating you on your
accomplishment. Or they might not. It's hard to say.
Christiana Thomas spends most of her time breathing. Additionally, she tries to
prevent her baby girl from falling off things, feels slightly self-conscious about her
belly, and cultivates a highly literary sense of righteous indignation. She is still
looking for full-time employment.
be prouder. We went back to South Bend, Indiana, for the graduation ceremony,
where Sam donned the doctor's robe, was hooded by his adviser, and received his
diploma. After six years of grueling classes, tests, and nearly three hundred pages
of dissertation, his education was finally completely over. We grilled some burgers,
and took some photos, and drank some nice wine.
So I was shocked some few weeks later to get a picture in the mail featuring my 5
year-old niece decked out in a blue robe and mortar board, and a note inviting us to
congratulate the little dear on her "graduation" from pre-kindergarten. A quick
conversation with my mother-in-law confirmed that there had been a nice ceremony
for all the youngsters, complete with walking across a stage, music, clapping parents,
gifts, and free ice cream.
And now I was invited to congratulate my niece. I considered sending a card, but I
couldn't begin to imagine what I would say. What are the elements of a
pre-kindergartner's day that merit mention? "Way to go, Em. I'm really proud of how
you managed to show up every day, and got slightly older." Or how about, "I'm so
proud that you didn't bite too many other kids and get kicked out. That's great."
I should probably be sending my congratulations to her mom instead, as she's the
one who managed to get one kid to school at one time, the other to pre-kindergarten
slightly later, and all the while still managing her 18-month-old's needs.
Frankly, I find the whole thing offensive. I understand the need for some sort of
ceremony marking the passage from not-yet-school into actual school, but must it be
a graduation ceremony? Why not just a song and speech sort of thing? Hang some
artwork, serve up ice cream, everybody talks about how much they enjoyed being in
class with everybody else, and call that good. Why do we have to turn something as
mundane as attending a preschool that mainly features snack time, songs, and ball
and parachute games into a source of accomplishment for the kids? No doubt that
these kids all hit some important developmental milestones, but have they done
anything that even remotely suggests the earning of a degree? They walked my little
niece across a big stage to thunderous applause, and handed her a certificate that
she CAN'T EVEN READ. They should have handed her something else, like a
flower, or chocolate, or a bug. At least she would have known what to do with those.
Instead, my niece now has a degree that grants her the right to go to kindergarten,
which, if I'm not mistaken, she is required to go to by law anyway.
I can't help but feel certain that something important is being lost when we insist on
treating normal childhood progress as though it were some sort of grand
accomplishment. I don't mean to say that developmental milestones aren't exciting or
praise-worthy, but I believe that there is an important distinction to be made between
things kids learn to do because they are little humans, and the choices they make as
they grow older to pursue more complicated tasks. It's the difference between
learning to walk, say, and practicing cross country until you can actually win the
sprint. One is expected, while the other is earned. And I worry, frankly, that treating
development that is expected as though it was earned sets the bar for
accomplishment frighteningly low.
Every time I mention my disapproval of the pre-K graduation ceremony to one of my
girlfriends, they all want to know the same thing: what am I going to do when it's my
little girl's turn to "graduate?" And they are right to ask, because they suspect, as I
know, that there's no way that I would ever have the brass balls required to tell the
amazingly kind and tragically underpaid director of my girl's preschool that her
carefully planned graduation ceremony is an affront to my values, and that their
end-of-school ritual should be adjusted to suit my preferences. I just would never
say it. Nor would I ever tell my darling girl that she couldn't "graduate" because
mommy thinks the whole event stinks of made-up nonsense and dressing kids up as
adults for the cute factor. Fortunately, I get to weasel out of this one. The school
we're sending Nell to serves the university community where my husband teaches,
and they have never (so far) done anything
approaching a graduation ceremony to mark the end of school. Perhaps someone
there shares my values. Or perhaps with so many parents having advanced degrees
(and commensurate student loans that they are still paying off), putting graduation
robes on the kids just started to seem like a bad idea. Regardless, I'm blissfully free
to be outraged without having to worry about my own hypocrisy, at least on this one
minor point.
A graduation ceremony is supposed to be the conferral of an academic diploma
marking completion of studies. But a pre-K graduation ceremony gives the
unmistakable impression that graduation is properly understood by its second
meaning: a division or interval on a graded scale. That you simply get older, and
periodically, you get to put on a robe, eat some free ice cream, and get some gifts.
And your strange aunt and uncle might send you a card congratulating you on your
accomplishment. Or they might not. It's hard to say.
Christiana Thomas spends most of her time breathing. Additionally, she tries to
prevent her baby girl from falling off things, feels slightly self-conscious about her
belly, and cultivates a highly literary sense of righteous indignation. She is still
looking for full-time employment.
| All rights reserved. |
| Department of Insult to Injury Graduation Day by Christiana Thomas Fall 2007 |
