So maybe I was a little short with the DQ when she called as Mr C and I were already ten minutes from home, on our way to her graduation. I forgot my robe at your house, she told me. Knowing that I had a flat tire, knowing that I wanted to be early, recalling that I'd told her to remember the robe and the dress, I said "You figure it out" and turned off the phone. Three years of forgotten assigments, wild grade swings, and teacher's conferences -- this moment could mark a transition to more indepedence. Mine.
It was completely appropriate that the DQ leave St. Joseph School the way she came -- her mind on everything but the task at hand. And indeed the whole service had a murky quality to it. Happy as we were to see her graduate, and thankful as we were to her teachers, we were both conscious of not being fully a part of the ceremony. Many, if not most of the other graduates were members of the parish. The DQ wasn't leaving with good friends, except for a braniac who was, at graduation time, on a cruise in Alaska. And, of course, we were not allowed to take communion.
Our experience at the DQ's previous parochial school was very different. The school is smaller, more academically inclined and, because it's served by the Norbertine fathers (one of whom both the ex and I knew), slightly more liberal. But St. Joseph hung in there with the DQ. She had teachers who appreciated her creativity and saw her as a wonderful girl with a bright future -- and for that I will always remember it fondly.
Personally, I feel like she hasn't quite graduated yet -- not until we return the robe she borrowed.
1 commentaire:
good for you! At 13, the DQ should be taking a good deal of responsibilty for her life. Learning to depend upon herself instead of Mom and Dad. To be sure...these will be difficult days and months ahead for the whole family...but the payoff is well worth the investment.
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