Wednesday, May 24, 2006
graduation 2006
Yesterday brought a brief respite from the ongoing drama of The Boy. . .
It was graduation day at school. This year's class was a class of one, a student of mine. This posting is in his honor.
AISD Marks a Special Graduation
Rosedale graduation celebrates milestones
I spoke on Jonathan's behalf. I composed the speech largely in my mind between the hours of 2:00 - 4:00 am Sunday night/Monday morning while pacing The Boy's hospital room obsessing over numbers on his pulse oximeter. I hastily wrote down what I could remember of it less than an hour before I had to deliver it. So basically, what I'm saying is, while it may be inspired, it is probably not my best effort.
This is what I said:
I first met Jonathan in the summer of 1996 during our extended summer session. He was a student in my afternoon class. As I remember it, he came into school almost everyday barefoot, because at that time he didn't like to wear shoes, and he was dirty. He was dirty not because he was not well cared for, he was dirty because he spent the mornings at his father's small engine repair shop. He frequently arrived with a dirty face and dirty hands, and his clothes smelled like grease and oil.
I thought it was perfect. Like Tom Sawyer. I thought Jonathan was a perfect example of a typical American boy, carefree and curious with a sense of adventure and exploration that frequently bordered on mischievous.
I've always suspected that Jonathan's love of shiny jangly metal things, such as keys and chains, grew out of those mornings spent at his father's shop. On more than one occasion this has left a teacher what happened to his keys.
Like all good young men, Jonathan is determined and strong-willed. Once he has decided on a course of action there is no stopping him. This is true whether he is walking laps in the gym during P.E., helping to package materials at Golfsmith, or trying to sneak into the kitchen early at mealtime.
Over the years Jonathan has grown into a handsome young man, he has not lost his energetic enthusiasm. He loves to walk around around campus and visit other classrooms, focusing his attention on the classrooms where he believes he is most likely to get a snack. If he had his way he would doubtlessly spend his days wandering the halls, frequently stopping by Stella's room to charm almonds, crackers, or chips out of his friend Paul. His contagious and engaging smile frequently charmed many school staff members out of their snacks.
Yes, Jonathan has the boyish charm of Tom Sawyer. When he cocks his head to the side and looks at you with an impish grin, you can't help but wonder if in his mind you're the one whitewashing the fence.
Today Jonathan, my student, my friend, you are preparing to leave your school days and your adolescence behind, and head off into the brave new adult world.
Before you go Jonathan, I ask all of us assembled in your honor, to join me in saluting you with your unique gesture to communicate both extreme elation or incredulous "I can't believe you're making me do this" anger, depending on the context of the situation.
As this is a festive occasion, it is the elation and joy I wish to convey.
So please everybody, raise your left hand before your face. . .
Jonathan, I bite my hand at you.
|
It was graduation day at school. This year's class was a class of one, a student of mine. This posting is in his honor.
AISD Marks a Special Graduation
Rosedale graduation celebrates milestones
I spoke on Jonathan's behalf. I composed the speech largely in my mind between the hours of 2:00 - 4:00 am Sunday night/Monday morning while pacing The Boy's hospital room obsessing over numbers on his pulse oximeter. I hastily wrote down what I could remember of it less than an hour before I had to deliver it. So basically, what I'm saying is, while it may be inspired, it is probably not my best effort.
This is what I said:
I first met Jonathan in the summer of 1996 during our extended summer session. He was a student in my afternoon class. As I remember it, he came into school almost everyday barefoot, because at that time he didn't like to wear shoes, and he was dirty. He was dirty not because he was not well cared for, he was dirty because he spent the mornings at his father's small engine repair shop. He frequently arrived with a dirty face and dirty hands, and his clothes smelled like grease and oil.
I thought it was perfect. Like Tom Sawyer. I thought Jonathan was a perfect example of a typical American boy, carefree and curious with a sense of adventure and exploration that frequently bordered on mischievous.
I've always suspected that Jonathan's love of shiny jangly metal things, such as keys and chains, grew out of those mornings spent at his father's shop. On more than one occasion this has left a teacher what happened to his keys.
Like all good young men, Jonathan is determined and strong-willed. Once he has decided on a course of action there is no stopping him. This is true whether he is walking laps in the gym during P.E., helping to package materials at Golfsmith, or trying to sneak into the kitchen early at mealtime.
Over the years Jonathan has grown into a handsome young man, he has not lost his energetic enthusiasm. He loves to walk around around campus and visit other classrooms, focusing his attention on the classrooms where he believes he is most likely to get a snack. If he had his way he would doubtlessly spend his days wandering the halls, frequently stopping by Stella's room to charm almonds, crackers, or chips out of his friend Paul. His contagious and engaging smile frequently charmed many school staff members out of their snacks.
Yes, Jonathan has the boyish charm of Tom Sawyer. When he cocks his head to the side and looks at you with an impish grin, you can't help but wonder if in his mind you're the one whitewashing the fence.
Today Jonathan, my student, my friend, you are preparing to leave your school days and your adolescence behind, and head off into the brave new adult world.
Before you go Jonathan, I ask all of us assembled in your honor, to join me in saluting you with your unique gesture to communicate both extreme elation or incredulous "I can't believe you're making me do this" anger, depending on the context of the situation.
As this is a festive occasion, it is the elation and joy I wish to convey.
So please everybody, raise your left hand before your face. . .
Jonathan, I bite my hand at you.
|
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