Clapping Out

I was substitute teaching at my grandson’s school (Annunciation Catholic Elementary school) and it happened to be the last day for the eighth-graders. My grandson is one of them. One of the ceremonial things the school does is to ask all the other students and all the staff to spend  a few minutes lining the hallways outside their classrooms. It’s called ‘clapping out’.  The eighth graders basically walk/run through the school’s hallways and everyone stamps feet, cheers and high-fives them.  Everyone in the school is smiling, clapping and cheering for those who are graduating and going on to high school. I mean, literally everyone: the teachers, assistant teachers, secretaries, principal, counselors, custodians, lunch ladies, librarians, specialists, coaches, volunteers, after-care staff – anyone the students might have engaged with during their school years were there. And we (me included) were cheering for them on their  ‘victory lap’.  

Imagine – so many people who are rooting for you!

What a way to go.

Yes, there was a Mass. Yes, there was a graduation ceremony, the congratulatory speeches and the right sort of pomp and circumstance as befitting graduates.  The award recipients were acknowledged. The school made their sending forth very  meaningful. The tear-jerk moment at graduation was when the students gave their mom (or dad) a white rose and thanked them.  Folks got a chance to shed a tear of love and appreciation for the tremendous effort it takes to get a child through those first nine (or ten) years of education. It is a day-in, day-out effort. It’s steadfastness and persistence. Those parents deserved the rose and the hugs. They deserve much more. And they have the proof standing in front of them.

The students, as well, are to be congratulated for those same nine or more years of hard work; of learning to pay attention, to listen, of studying things they care nothing about, and finding things they can be passionate about. Perhaps they began to master some skill or another. They are to be congratulated on all the learning not in the reading-writing-math curriculum. They learn how to be a friend, how to cooperate, take turns, how to share stuff, to think the best of someone who has hurt you. By eighth grade, hormones are running amok and students are seeking to understand who they are. They are leaving a secure world where they know the rules and have been (in fact) the ‘big kids on camps’. They are going to a new school with new rules and new people to get acquainted with, unfamiliar teachers and  space. The school work and expectations will be harder. So, finishing eighth grade is an accomplishment to mark, and a transition of significance.

But the “clap out” — really, to my mind was so touching, so inspiring, so supportive of the student graduates, it will carry them on to their next challenge.  Many staff – as well as myself, were weeping. My heart had swelled with joy and pride, with longing for those graduating, knowing we wouldn’t see so much of them anymore. I was filled with nostalgia for the passing of time and the youth once spent – gone. I was full of hope for these young people whose new adventure holds challenges, and full of worry for what they might encounter.  I had connected with these youngsters in church, in preschool and in the grades as a volunteer; as a parishioner, a substitute teacher, a visiting author and as grandma.  So even though I don’t’ know them as well as my own children, I have prayed and supported and wished them well for many years.

My own grandson is now taller than me — so handsome, so smart and bright. We grandmothers shed tears for our children, our grandchildren and for those friends of our children’s children.  Being a Christian, I have and do pray for them. I have seen them running and laughing on the playground, not paying attention in school or church, and as altar servers, really doing well. I have heard the new knowledge they want to share, the games they are passionate about, the friendships they find important.  I am grateful to have been able to share the lives of these children, now moving into young adulthood. I applaud them and wish them well.  Our children rarely know who is watching them, who is rooting for them, but they are supported anyway and I am grateful to be the ‘invisible support’ for these youngsters and the tangible, readily available grandma for my grandson.

So, I’m Clapping you out of elementary school. God speed. God go with you and keep you safe.

Not to belabor the point, but wouldn’t it be great to have a ‘clapping out’ ceremony for other transitions in our lives? We could have a clapping out after high school, or college and also after marrying. Perhaps we could have a clapping out after divorcing, after leaving a job or after a long illness (all our medical staff, family and helpers could clap us into good health).

I’m also thinking of the transition from life to death. As they roll that coffin down the aisle at the end of the funeral, everyone could stand in a long line that (hopefully) extends out the doors of the church and into the street. Everyone would be cheering us on and clapping. It would be a send-off worthy of a life long-lived; a happy ending and a glad transition to the next phase.

I’m clapping you out. Go on through to your new beginning.