June 5, 2012
These hours wring the last bit of energy from teachers and staff at MPA. And the energy thrown off by students who are just hours away from finishing another year could power a small city. If you read this around posting time on Thursday, less than 24 hours remain of the school year, unless you are a senior, then it’s about double that. On Saturday, the class of 2012 scrubs up, dolls up, rises up and flies off. Birds to wing.
For the uninitiated, MPA commencement exercises are unlike any I’ve known. Because of course….it’s MPA. We do things differently. So think about it for a moment. What would distinguish an MPA graduation ceremony from others? Where would the focus be?
No, not on a well-heeled circuit-traveling guest speaker, no matter how much star power they might bring. The star power is in the blue robes on stage. Speeches? Seniors. Music? Seniors. We ask our seniors, for one last time, to show us who they are. To share their thinking with us and pose hard questions for us to consider. To pour their hearts into song. And to be the agents of their own send-off.
By Saturday, faculty have become spectators. Proud surrogate parents marveling at what that squirrely seventh grade boy has blossomed into; how that shy fourth grade girl has grabbed the reins of public speaking and could pass as some lucky politician’s spokesperson.
Great teachers, of which MPA is blessed with an abundance, ARE parents to their students. They take personal responsibility for their students’ growth and well-being; bleed and cry with them, and exult in their successes. And when the race is run each June and the last charge has headed off for the summer, secretly miss them.
To be sure, the end of school brings great relief and a welcome chance for teachers to recharge. Soaking in the sun, drifting through a summer novel…and sleep. “Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,” wrote Shakespeare. The impulse to care is at the core of a teacher’s being. It is the crystalline exercise of humanity – the hand that gently reassures, the voice that encourages, the glance and nod that say “I believe in you.” And the caring impulse does not stop at the water’s edge…at the end of the school year.
We’ll dream of you in your absence this summer, and believe in you always.
