Tomorrow is grade eight graduation night – one of my favourite nights of the year. It is always a nostalgic time for me as I remember some of my best years at school. I love grade eight graduation as much (if not more) than the graduating grade eights. It is not as if I completely live in the past, but what is wrong with periodically revisiting the highlights?
Every year at this time, I purchase a new dress for the occasion. I go to my favourite dress shop downtown and eagerly search for the perfect dress for my (I mean the kids') graduation. My colleagues mostly laugh at me (and surely make fun of me behind my back) but it doesn’t bother me. I take the time to explain to them that it is a great time to buy a new dress as I (hopefully) have a summer full of occasions I can wear it to.
Last year’s dress was particularly memorable. I found – what I thought – was the perfect number. I must have tried on twenty before making my final decision. It looked great. I took it home, put it in my closet and relaxed knowing I was prepared for my (I mean the kids') big evening. The night of graduation came and I casually started getting ready at 5:45pm for our 7pm start. I slipped on my dress and headed for the mirror to confirm my excellent choice. I stood in horror looking at the reflection that stared back at me. Was I wearing beer goggles when I chose this dress? The fabric clung to every roll, lump and bump I carefully hide every time I get dressed. I looked awful. Even my husband couldn’t find the right words. It was terrible and by now it was 5:55. F**K!
I dialed the dress shop. I was in a full on sweat. I knew they closed at 6pm but I was desperate. Sensing my sense of urgency they stayed open for me and were very kind in helping a lunatic on a mission. I knew I had already tried on many of the dresses in there. Still, I must have tried on twenty more before finding my best option. I arrived at grad at 6:50pm – the last to arrive. But it was worth it. This year`s dress is a winner (but I am going to try it on one more time tonight to make sure).
A slightly more embarrassing part of my grad night ritual is that I also get my hair styled. Wow. I am actually contemplating deleting this last sentence. Inevitably I am seated beside one or two girls that I teach and we politely complement each other`s hair. I have never been good at doing my own hair and this deficiency was highlighted the night of my own grade eight graduation when I burned my chest while attempting to curl my hair – a mark clearly visible in my grad photos.
Graduation night, even if only from grade eight, is a special night. Everyone comes excited to celebrate together and acknowledge what a special time in their lives it is. I know that these kids are on the cusp of becoming young adults. That they are at the precarious time in their lives where they are actually growing up and will soon be saying goodbye to the carefree days of their youth. High school lies before them and these years will make, or break these kids. I guess there is a part of me that wishes I was their age again, at a time when the decisions I would soon make would shape my life. It`s not that I would change anything. It is just a really amazing time – looking back on it anyway.
It`s funny how we never know how great something is until we are able to look back on it. It must be because we`re able to forget all the crap and only remember what we want to - the good parts, the highlights. I am sure my grade eight grad night wasn`t quite as spectacular as I choose to remember, but it doesn`t matter because my past is simply what I make of it. And it doesn`t hurt that I get to relive my graduation night every single June.
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