Speaking of dreams . . . and thanks for your comments Rae Rae, but I have not idea what you are talking about. And when I took psychology classes in high school and undergraduate school, I had no idea of what they were talking about either. Maybe this is all related to my lack of connection with the collective unconscious.

Speaking of dreams . . . as I was saying. Graduation is a sort of dream-like state. It begins, the show that is, at 8 p.m. I'll come back to that. Do you have any idea what happens prior to that? I'll try to keep it short. I'm not talking about the 13 years of education, the approximately 1400 tests per student and all the days in class. I'm just talking about putting on the show. Running the wiring for the microphones takes all morning. Then there are the janitors who set out the 450 chairs and build the platform. The chairs have been stored in an outside building for a year and they are filthy and have to be cleaned, one by one. Melissa was responsible for getting the right number of chairs on each row. (You'd think you could just put 25 chairs on a row and be done with it wouldn't you? You'd be wrong about that.) There were flowers, lots of them. I didn't even see who put them out. I did notice that they put them in the way of the microphone cords and we had to work out how we were going to move the mics without upsetting the flowers at the last minute. Chamber choir has rehearsed the national anthem until it sounds sufficiently military to be sung for the President.

Even after 3 days of graduation practice, someone has to organize the students into lines that night. We have the students divided into 24 rooms. We ask them to come an hour early and some are still so late that they come onto the field after the ceremony has begun. Which screws up everything because I have been told at that point that they are not present and to scratch their names, then poof, there they are and I don't call their name. You do understand that I call all their names don't you? I'm a good person to do it because I'm used to performance pressure and because I can say words in lots of different languages. Good old international phonetic alphabet. I know I'm not perfect at it but I get pretty close. I can tell that because when I call out Charlotte Martine Blanchet in French and look at her, she smiles, surprised that someone said her name as she says it. Chinese is not easy. Italian is my forte. Spanish is easy. Japanese is a challenge. Polish, well I have to get help with Polish and other Eastern Europeans, Bulgarian and such. I speak with about 2/3 of the graduates and go over with them how they want to hear their names and then write them down phonetically.

The band meets at 4:00 to rehearse for graduation. Seems crazy to me, but they do. The soloist for the Alma Mater came in at 6:30 to rehearse with the band. All the student speakers, salutatorian, valedictorian, etc., came in during the morning hours to work with the microphones. It is difficult to talk into a microphone when the sound from the stadium public address system reverberates in your ears about 1 second after you speak. The tendency is to slow down and wait for your words to clear before you continue so they go very slow at first, but we coach them to do better.

The faculty arrives an hour early. Many have responsibilities with students. Many are working security. Former President Jimmy Carter and Mrs. Carter were in the audience again for another grandson's graduation, Jeremy. So there was a bit of unusual security. Secret service guys are nervous looking. They make me nervous. Most teachers are trying to figure out how to get those masters hoods arranged properly. It's not easy and I can never help them but a few have a knack for it and arrange hood after hood and make them look good. Fortunately my doctor's outfit is cool looking and easy to put on. So that's good at least.
There are programs that were done way in advance. We had a new team working on the graduation this year and so there were mistakes, sadly. They didn't take proof reading seriously. There were ushers handing out those programs. Junior marshalls do all the grunt work. They think they are being honored when they get out 6 days early with the seniors. Ha ha. They end up sunburned and tired of taking orders. Let's get shovels and clean up those sidewalks. We've got to use the weedeater on that tall grass by the end of the stadium. Paint these stakes black and pound them into the rock hard ground without breaking them and then string green and black cord and put up all those ribbons.

Finally it begins. The speeches are forgettable, immediately. But grammatically correct. The English department has worked them over. Valedictorians are pretty strong personalities and they sometimes ad lib, or sing or something without any prior approval. It's scarey when they get off script. I begin reading the names about 8:30 and sunset is at 8:45. So I begin in the daylight and it gradually turns to darkness and starlight. That transistion is interesting, sort of emphasizing the passing of time and adding to the dream-like state of the whole thing. We start in the afternoon of highschool and go into the night and then quite suddenly, high school is over.

They pitch hats. There is a senior song. The field is swarming with grandmothers, aunt suzies, parents, little bros and sissys, alumni, and teachers. Flash bulbs and flowers. I just stand there near the platform for a half hour or so and students find me for that one final photo. Often, I never ever see them again.

The earth keeps spinning. I rode home in the bright yellow golf cart, headlights glowing into the darkness.