They came parading through the room, red gowns flapping with every movement of their arms, white hats perched on their proud heads.
The black and red tassles waved with every step as their music cued them toward the front of the gymnasium.
I watched, tears welling as my son made his way through the room with his classmates. His telltale smirk and the occasional goofy faces made for the amusement of the public were the only signs that he was still the boy I knew so well.
The speeches were given by the program director and by the children’s teachers.
They were interrupted on occasion by a still childish giggle in the background, the excitement of the day overriding any requirements of silence.
Then, one by one, as their names were called out, each went to retrieve their official certificate of graduation; that single piece of paper proclaiming their victories.
They had made it. Finally, all of their hard work had paid off.
As they marched proudly back up the aisle to the rising sound of “Pomp and Circumstance,” diplomas in hand, I wiped the tears from my eyes.
These children, once our babies, helpless in every way, no longer needed us the way they once had.
They had accomplished their first major achievements here in this gymnasium and in the halls of this school.
Now, they would be moving on into a bigger world.
Even if it was only kindergarten…
“Education is simply the soul of society as it passes
from one generation to the next.” – Unknown
This post was written in response to a prompt by The Red Dress Club.
As usual, word limit is 600.