This morning as I sat down to a cup of tea and the newspaper, two luxuries of a day off, I heard a familiar tune played with the exquisite slowness of a Jane Campion movie …or ten year old learning to play piano.
“Pomp and Circumstance,” a song relegated in my mind to sunny days in June, drifted in from the living room where my daughter, Ella, was experimenting with a new piano songbook. Tentatively poking the keys, the melody took on a feeling of otherworldliness. This was January, it looked like rain, nobody was graduating.
As with so many experiences in parenting, hearing my daughter’s practice on the piano provided an opportunity to look at something familiar from a different point of view.
Teachers plan with the end in mind, looking to the end of the unit or lesson at the outcomes they hope their students will achieve. Students look ahead too, grappling to find relevancy and see how they will apply new learning to their own lives.
As a principal, it’s easy to have my time dominated by the immediate. This week my accreditation report was due, I hosted a parent coffee and a prospective student tour, and had the opportunity to teach a lesson. I went to construction meetings, did final interviews for a track coach, and did my best to answer a couple of hundred emails. I didn’t think about the end; I thought about the now.
To a certain extent that’s okay. I need to be present as I talk with parents and students, visit classrooms, and complete the tasks of a site administrator. Hearing that graduation tune, however, reminded me to see my work in terms of the bigger picture. Everything we do should support students having the skills and knowledge, understanding, inspiration, and (at least a pinch of) wisdom to be confident and ready when they throw their mortarboards into the air in June.
Seniors do this. From the opening days of the school year through college application season, Homecoming, Winter Formal, and the senior activities of spring, they see the year through eyes of someone who knows she will not be back and wants to be able to soar.
A teacher I adore likes to say “I get older, but the kids in my class stay the same age.” I know what he means; some of the students on campus today have the same teachers their parents did a couple of decades ago. My daughter’s piano playing reminded me that we as educators do well to recognize that for each class of graduates this is something special and new.
By March Ella will be able to play the tune unhesitatingly; by May she’ll know the tune by heart.
Like her, seniors have an idea of what graduation will be like, understand even more mid-year, and really get it as the calendar turns to June.
When I hear “Pomp and Circumstance” in our stadium, my emotions will be bigger, but no deeper than they were this morning.
We all start as a fumbling individuals and end, together, as a class of exuberant scholars, marching toward the future to the proud music of a band.