I changed my mind
There's a secret game we play in the staff lounge called, "see how badass I really am." It's a place of machismo, where teachers boast about holding kids accountable and *** about angry parents. What happens is this: I say something like, "I can't believe they are letting that kid go to the eigth grade promotion after he ditched for a week and threw a water balloon at a teacher." Then the next teacher has to one-up me with, "Oh yeah, well the girl who got in a fight and stole a laptop is getting to walk." At this point, I have to give a one-up by saying, "I can't believe we even have an eighth grade promotion. All it does is celebrate mediocricy. It sends the message to students that this is the end."
The staff lounge is a place where teachers can go to let off some steam. Lately it's been a sauna and all the teachers have had to listen to my overly bitter diatribe against eighth grade graduation . . . er, promotion.
Fast-forward to yesterday. As I drive to school, I see our mural with the pathway to education. Along the side there are the custodians, teachers, parents, secretaries, cafeteria workers. It hits me. Graduation, promotion - these are never the end. Education is a life-long journey. Yet, we need graduation points. We need that sense of closure, that notion of a rite of passage.
I am no longer against middle school graduation. I am beginnig to realize that it is a time to celebrate what students have accomplished, to reflect upon three years of schooling and to become energized about high school. I am realizing, too, that our culture has no real "coming of age" rites. While Jews have bar-mitzvah's and the Latino community has quinceneras, my lilly-white, suburban culture has nothing until graduation - and even that is often muted to remind us that it's all about college.
So, despite my stubborn temperament, I am changing my mind. I now agree with eighth grade promotion. I agree with the music, the dressy outfits, the punch and cookies afterward. I agree with the obnoxious bouqet of balloons. I'm even in favor of the blow horns and the signs that make it feel as if I'm at a professional wrestling venue, because if nothing else, they add a certain irony and vaudevillian aspect to a dreary formal ceremony.
I am a teacher in an inner-city Phoenix school. I'm not a big fan of online anonymity, so I'll tell you exactly who I am: I teach seventh and eighth grade social studies at Frank Borman Middle School. I love teaching, but I also know that it can be challenging. I am married and have two sons.