Tribute to MY class of 2025

"In life, you don't have to have all the right answers if you are asking the right questions." 
- Salutatorian Katherine McKinley May 23, 2025

The class of 2025 is here, in their regalia, ready to head out into the world.  I know some schools still have a few weeks left, but Memorial Day weekend marks the beginning of graduation season.  While they look forward, I can't help but look back.  As an 8th grade science teacher, I taught 54 of this year's graduating seniors during the hybrid year.  There is a bond that can only be created by that kind of stress.  Some were at home while others were in the room with me, although we were standing as far apart as a classroom space would allow, we were in it together. Masked and separated by plexiglass, but with a common goal and a common spirit. They had been home since March, so they were excited to see each other again and a little more nervous about what the year might look like than normal.  But my biggest memory of them was how game they were.  Because we were doing EVERYTHING in new ways, the most common words I said in the first month of the 2020-2021 school year were, "We're going to try it this way.  If it works, we'll keep doing it. If not, we'll try something else."  And they rolled with it, adapting like champs.  At the end of the year, just before they walked out the door, I said, "This year has been hard, but I want to thank you for not using the power you have to make it harder.  You guys made it fun."

While all 54 of the ones I taught are special, there are a few that stand out in my memory for different reasons that year, and I want to mention a few.

Collin - Collin is a hard worker, but he is also a goofball - a teacher's favorite combination.  Because his elderly grandmother was living with them, he spent the first six weeks of the school year joining my class from his bedroom.  At that time, he was the only one virtual in that particular period, so I could see him full screen.  Every time I looked at the screen, he was wearing a different hat.  He switched from sombrero to cowboy hat to propeller beanie as though it were totally normal.  At one point, I looked up to see that he had a yellow duck perched on top of his head.  Since I was the only one who could see him, this wasn't a show he was putting on for friends or an attempt to be disruptive.  It was purely for my entertainment and his.  He says he doesn't remember this, but I do. In a very stressful time, it was a lovely moment of joy.

Marley -  I heard so much during the pandemic about how masks prevented people from telling if you were smiling.  Marley proved this not to be true.  I'll set aside the fact that anyone who smiles only with their mouths is a psychopath (Try it; it's pretty much impossible). Being back in person outweighed any effect not seeing the lower part of the face had.  Kids communicate a lot of information in a number of subtle ways, and that had been lost during the virtual spring.  Online, I wasn't getting much nonverbal communication at all; in person, I was seeing body language and hearing sounds of confusion or affirmation.  Marley, in particular, smiled with every part of her being.  Her eyes sparkle; her voice is bright and genuine; her body language is open.  She gave this joy to everyone during the pandemic, and she has continued to do so in the four years since.  

Emily - Emily is an artist, and that's how she processes the world around her.  She draws pictures -  pictures of her pets, pictures of her thoughts, pictures of whatever she's looking at - she fills her sketchbook with lots and lots of pictures.  During the stress of the pandemic, she became a giver of  pictures.  I had a stuffed toy lemur named Gus in my classroom, and she drew a picture of him during class one day to gave to me after class.  One morning, as she was coming into the building, she asked me what my favorite animal was.  When she came to class that afternoon, she gave me a drawing of a panda sleeping on a tree branch.  It was stress relief for us both, and I still have those drawings at home.

Haolin - If you are a person who nods along during a presentation, class, or sermon, God bless you.  When presenting, it can be hard to know whether what I am saying is landing with listeners, and getting that bit of attentive feedback is useful.  Haolin is the world champion of nodding along.  He sat in the back of my classroom, in my right peripheral vision, nodding and saying, "Yeah, yeah.  Mmm hmm."  That little bit of affirmation was so encouraging, and while I have thanked him for it, I don't think he'll ever understand its true value for me.

Kate - The quote at the top of this post from Kate's salutatory address stood out because of what Kate's questions meant to me during the hybrid year.  She was in my 6th period class.  By that point in each day, teachers were exhausted - not just tired, but depleted of energy.  Yet, Kate continued to be curious.  She asked interesting questions.  She truly wanted to learn more about whatever topic we were covering and had questions about how it applied to things she saw in life. Each day, she reminded me that I was still teaching - not just surviving the year (or the day) but actually teaching students who wanted to learn.  I could never thank her enough for that, and I hope she continues to view learning that way throughout her life.

Class of 2025, I can only imagine what it would have been like if I had been teaching a different set of 8th graders during the most difficult year of all of our lives.  As hard as it was, your spirit made it worth every exhausting minute.  

Thank you.

Personal Graduation Ceremonies

Some of you may get tired of how much I brag about my school. but you are just going to have to indulge me today because, while I loved GRACE Christian from the moment I started working there, I've never been more proud to work there than I am right now.  I'm not going to do justice to this day because there aren't enough words to do so, but I have to try.

When I left the school on March 19 to begin teaching from home, there were three women in our office making contingency plans for the possibility of a non-traditonal graduation.  Whether that would be virtual or socially distanced or in the parking lot, we did not yet know.  (At that time, we still dreamed it was possible we would be able to return to a regular ceremony.)  As the stay at home orders were extended, the work of these ladies became plans, and the plans were expanded and changed into realities.

In normal years, one of our senior traditions is a senior dinner, in which every student is spoken about by a teacher who has signed up to share about their character.  I've written about this event before, and it is my favorite night of the year (more so, even, than graduation).  While our graduation is lovely, the dinner is so personal that it represents our school mission and vision statements in a tangible way.  

As we prepared ourselves for an end to the year, there were three events we still hoped to have.  Yearbook distribution, the senior dinner, and graduation.  In teacher meetings and parent surveys, there was one thing that was evident; no one wanted these to be virtual.  Our virtual awards night was great, but it isn't the way you want to graduate or have a senior dinner.  (The yearbook distribution couldn't be virtual of course and happened in the way I described in last week's closure post.)  

Our school gave each of our fifty-seven seniors a personal graduation.  Students signed up for a time slot and came to the school with their parents and siblings.  Because there are fifty-seven of them and a few small breaks were planned, this event took from nine in the morning until almost seven in the evening.

Students arrived in their cap and gown. Their parents were given a box that held their diploma, any awards they had won, gifts or notes some of the teachers had given, a jump drive with the graduation slideshow, a plaque with three character traits the teachers suggested printed on it, and a Bible with their name engraved and messages from their teachers (another tradition we did online and printed for their Bibles).  They were led to the front.  The graduate then walked down the aisle to Pomp and Circumstance (for about four seconds because it doesn't take long for one person to get down the aisle of our chapel) and stood at the front.  

Our principal opened each ceremony in prayer and announced awards.  The parents presented the student with their awards from the box.  She also read the character traits, and the teacher who signed up to speak about them came to the stage to give the same speech they would have given at the dinner.  The parents then gave their senior their diploma, and they walked across the stage, turning their tassel at the center.  This was all streamed on Facebook Live so friends and family could watch even though they couldn't attend.  Since I was only allowed to be in the room for the three I was speaking for, I stayed glued to that feed for most of the day.

After their ceremony, they stepped into the hall, where the teacher who had spoken about them and our Christian Life Director prayed for them.  They proceeded to the cafeteria for photographs.  It took half the building to have everything properly distanced, but it worked.  It just worked.  

GRACE has a three-word mantra that has arisen in addition to our mission and vision statements.  We talk often about how much we want our students to feel that they are known, valued, and loved.  When we went into the virtual environment, we talked often about ways we could still make students feel known, valued, and loved.  At the end of the day on Friday, I believe there were fifty-seven seniors (and their families) who felt known by the teachers who spoke and submitted character traits and "wrote" in their Bibles.  I believe there were fifty-seven seniors who felt valued by the people who spent eleven hours filming, photographing, praying, and speaking for their personal graduation ceremonies.  I believe there were fifty-seven seniors who knew they were loved by everyone in their school, but more importantly by their Creator.

The Hour Before Graduation

This will be a short post and mostly photos.  The graduation ceremony is always lovely, but it's not my favorite part.  My favorite parts are the hour before and the few minutes after the ceremony.  Our teachers robe up in the same room with the graduates.  There are happy conversations happening between teachers and their (almost former) students.

There are teachers taking selfies with students and each other.  It is a joyous time with just us.

My best friends and I take photos together, just like kids do.  This is the last year that our "Blue Pod + One" photo will look like this because Cheryl is leaving us for other employment.  It is also the last photo of all the Beths that will look like this one.

Even after all these years, teachers have some difficulty with their caps and gowns.  That hood is always impossible, and no one seems to know the right way to arrange it.

Just before the ceremony, we gather together and pray with them one last time.