This past week, DrHGuy’s US Postal Service-approved roadside mailbox yielded the first graduation announcement of 2007.
That this notice arrived nearly a full month earlier than the first such harbinger of diploma distribution last year induced a full-fledged rant to erupt, not unlike Athena springing fully clad in armor from the forehead of Zeus, from the mind of DrHGuy. 1 It turns out, however, that the sender’s atypical school schedule that has the pertinent Eighth Grade Graduation taking place in mid-April rather than late May is the rather disappointingly un-rant-worthy reason for the March mailing.
The good news is that the advent of this latest evidence of the Jostensopoly provides a tenuously legitimate rationale for posting a description of the Prodigal’s own Eighth Grade Graduation.2
Eighth Grade Commencement: The Prodigal Version3
The Prodigal’s middle school graduation was in the classic tradition and thus held few surprises, but the execution was noteworthy.
1. Locale:
A hot, stuffy gym filled far beyond capacity not only captured the discomfort but also the fetid atmosphere of actually being in middle school.
2. Seating:
The primary seating was a section of well polished gymnasium bleachers, a sly tactic that economically supported several modes of psychological and physiological torture:
- Bleachers required folks like the Prodigal’s grandmother, then approaching 70, which also appeared to be the median age of the audience, to scale a series of 18 inch sheer vertical steps to reach a place to sit. The strain and awkwardness of climbing was augmented by the embarrassment of hiking up dresses and the necessity of stepping between strangers located between the floor and the remaining empty seats, seven rows above the floor. These wall-climbing by elders exercises did, however, offer an element of drama by way of the realistic chances of a tumble4
- Bleachers created ambiguous seating areas, thus creating inevitable conflicts not only between adjacent sitters but also between (1) early arrivals who had silently but adamantly established a ratio of buttocks to unit space of bench that provided them with a modicum of comfort and dignity and (2) latecomers who hovered nearby, mentally calculating the means by which sufficient space for themselves could be carved out of excess space squandered by those folks already seated
- Bleachers induced for the entire audience unremittingly increasing discomfort as they shifted through a variety of postures in an unsuccessful effort to find release from the pains of sitting on a backless chunk of unyielding hardwood
3. Music:
Music blared from the middle high school band whose signature pieces, DrHGuy finally realized, were agonizingly slow versions of “I Heard It On The Grapevine” and “The Theme from Forrest Gump.” They did compensate for their decreased tempo with proportionately increased volume.
4. Speeches:
Valedictory and School Board speakers that left no cliché or romantic interpretation of life unspoken and, certainly, no individual unwelcomed.
Attendants officially acknowledged included fellow students, parents, grandparents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, other family members, members of the clergy, teachers (both “those present tonight and those who could not be with us”), other school employees, elected officials, school board members, and friends.
For those attending this middle school, apparently, the years spent in the 6th, 7th, and 8th grades “will always be remembered as the best years of [their] lives.” Nonetheless, to have survived those same gloriously, unforgettably wonderful three years, every eighth grader had “shown great courage.”
Their future was said to be “promising” but “full of challenges.” This class was (as the reader has no doubt since heard) “the leaders of tomorrow.”
Finally, graduation, one was given to understand, was not, as some dolts apparently believed, the end of the eighth grade but, instead, the beginning of – well, it’s not exactly clear what it was that begun at that eighth grade graduation, but is was definitely the beginning, not the end.
5. Awards:
An assortment of prizes were awarded that were notable for being
- Incomprehensible. One award was for “embodying the essence of John Smith,” a kid whose sole achievement, as far as anyone in the audience could discern, was being killed in an auto accident a few years ago when he was a hitherto unnoticed member of the school’s 8th grade class
- Weirdly apportioned. There was one prize each for “Best Musician” of Orchestra, Band, Ensemble, Combo, and Jazz Group; there was one prize - in toto - for “Best Athlete”
- Emphasized or barely acknowledged based on bizarre criteria. The “Best Musician(s)” and “Best Athlete” briefly arose in their chairs after their titles were mumbled by the principal; “Perfect Attendance” awards winners, however, were not only brought to the stage for recognition but were also lauded as leaders, models, the most outstanding of potential employees, and just generally exemplary folks. These kids were presented in ascendant stages — i.e., those with 3 years perfect attendance were presented first, then those with 5 years, then those with 6 years, … ; I’m almost certain that the County Superintendent, upon introducing the kid who hadn’t missed a day of school since entered pre-school, experienced at least one orgasm
6. Draconian Demands:
Chief among these were the orthodox instructions, “There will be no applause for any specific student receiving his or her diploma. Applause will be saved for the entire group.”
This proclamation, of course, inevitably triggered civil disobedience which took the time-honored, socially sophisticated form of commemorating the announcement of the name of ones child or friend with the various combinations and permutations of the following:
- Loudly executed whoops, not unlike those emitted by certain participants during especially successful coital episodes
- Shouted encouragements of the “Go Git ‘Em, Jimmy” variety, which have also been occasionally voiced during amorous activities
- The occasional expression of witty mock-astonishment, which, have likewise sometimes been - or so DrHGuy has been told - part of intercourse discourse
- And – DrHGuy’s personal favorite - the high-pitched whistle that slices through time, space, and titanium barriers not to mention ones hitherto respectfully treated eardrums.5
The Final Grade
On the other hand, the Prodigal, who, by the way, had previously admonished his relatives and friends in attendance, not to applaud when his name was called, seemed happy with the whole affair; consequently, so was his father.
Footnotes
- DrHGuy is willing to stipulate that his rant eruption was probably less painful than the Athena springing from the forehead thing↩
- This description is based on a contemporaneous e-mail report of that event sent to the usual correspondents of the time↩
- The Mesomorph’s Eighth Grad Graduation was memorialized in The Original Fear Factor - Eighth Grade Graduation.↩
- There is no evidence that wagers were actually placed. That appears to have only been a jest.↩
- The shrill whistle, DrHGuy is grateful to note, has not been a feature of the amorous portion of his life although such a sound did once play an vital role in his examination, diagnosis, and miraculous cure of a case of hiccups at 3 AM in the Michael Reese Emergency Room↩
