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As any parent of a graduate knows, a flood of mixed emotions can (and will) drown you at this momentous juncture.  My daughter is soon graduating from high school, and while I’m so proud of her blah blah blah🗣, I’m definitely sad and sentimental.  When I graduated, I’d never have guessed the adults in the room gave that much of a shit.  Aside from the flowers they may have brought, or the photos they took, as a typical teenager I wasn’t aware of the complex range of parental emotions in the smelly, poorly ventilated auditorium.  Perhaps had the ventilation been better🤔...

During times of milestones, the pride factor is a given.  However, the pride I feel is expected in my world.  As in, I’m blessed to not be raising a child in a low income inner city, where a high school diploma may not be an automatic part of the deal.  I never wrestled with fear that my daughter wouldn’t complete high school.  Education where I live is hands down taken for granted, and this has always bothered me a great deal.  We can’t ever apologize where we come from, or to what circumstances we are born into.  But there’s often a sense of entitlement that is attached to a more cushioned existence.  At the start of the year, I stopped to eat on the Upper East Side of New York, a planet unto itself.  The fancy private schools were letting out at this time in the afternoon, and the little corner cafe was soon swarming with glittering, privileged teens.  It was like the set of Gossip Girl.  I felt average, shlumpy, and incredibly lacking in my own horrendous high school experience (not over it).  These girls had musical instruments, the kilt and knee sock gig down pat, and nannies carrying their bags. Their hair was shining, their skin clear, and carbs were not an issue.  The biggest dilemma seemed to be deciding which slutty animal or professional to be for Halloween (slutty mouse or cop?🐭👩🏻‍✈️). I SAY THIS WITH NO JUDGEMENT, IT WAS JUST VERY FUNNY IN A SATIRICAL WAY. I loved the SNL aspect.

As I drove home through Harlem, a few blocks up, the high school dismissal scene was quite different. The colors and energies even changed. It was grayer and heavier. This was not Blair and Serena eating sushi on the MET steps. I assume nothing about the thoughts and feelings of the kids, they could have been equally happy (and who knows if the wealthier ones were??), but it was a glaringly different scenario. It made me really think about how vastly different experiences can be just a few short blocks away from each other, and how unfair it is for people to immediately inherit a certain life.  More so, how being born into a satin pillow removes so much of what’s required to succeed ; drive.  I see this in my own surroundings.  If kids fail a test, so what? The teachers are automatically at fault.  All info can be learned from an iPhone.  The list goes on. So little is required since they’ll graduate regardless. 

My daughter happens to have worked her ass off these past four years.  Not out of fear of remaining trapped in a tough social construct, but because she’s a good girl who loves to learn. She shines in art history, reading, and writing.  When she’d feel overwhelmed by the workload, and Yeshiva schedules are brutal, I’d have sympathy but also pride that she was taking it seriously.  Struggle leads to growth and competency.  She earned her diploma, though she’d have gotten it anyway.  On another note, I’m having a hard time processing that she’s leaving home soon.  Never again will her occupancy of her bed here be a given.  I truly can’t wrap my head around that.  It makes no sense that the little bean I breastfed while watching The Wonder Years, is leaving me.  Where is she going and why doesn’t she want to stay???  Is her excitement at leaving home an indication I screwed up as a mother?  I know that’s egocentric.  This isn’t about me.  She’s entitled to her journey, and thank god she is an adaptable, well adjusted child.  All I want for her now is experience.  I’m just experiencing life at 40; I’m thrilled she’s beginning now. Rack it up, Gurl.  Just live.  But please want to come home.  A lot.  Sifting through baby pictures for her yearbook ads was really hard.  I cried as I flipped through the albums I’ve always meticulously kept.  Now photos live in my stupid phone, not being touched or framed.  That’s another depressing story...

One of the hardest things for parents to do is remove ourselves from our kids’ experiences. They are individuals who need space to grow and figure shit out.  They are not extensions of us, they are universes unto themselves.  It’s not fair for us to insert ourselves in every detail of their lives, be it out of love, insecurity, control, or boredom.  I can’t stand when parents seek fulfillment solely through their children.  It’s too much pressure on them.  I mess up all the time.  I make mistakes I never thought I’d make.  I kick myself constantly.  However, when I look at my Wonder Years baby girl, I know I’m getting at least half of it right.  What a lovely, kind, sensitive, smart, polite, beautiful soul she is, on her own accord. Now if only those graduation caps weren’t so stupid looking...

congrats to anyone working hard for anything, and for starting new chapters, myself included. Onward.  Always onward.  The day we stop learning is the day we die. Love you so much right now.