Human Cement
A week ago, my Kyra graduated from high school. During the
weeks leading up to the pomp and circumstance, I heard rumors of grumblings
about providing wheelchair access to the platform that the graduates were to
cross in order to receive their diplomas (something about photographic eyesores
or marring the brand-new gym floor, depending on who you asked), and how classmates
that “had” to help Kyra get across the stage would have something taken away
from “their moment”.
I didn’t hear any complaints directly from Kyra’s classmates,
so I rolled my eyes, ignored the rumors, and hoped for the best. Yet, I wonder whether the grumblings would
have taken place at all had Kyra become wheelchair-bound due to a football
injury, or if she were the offspring of one of our locally “famous”
families. For their sakes, I pray we
never find out.
Anyway, about an hour before the graduation ceremony was to
start, I pinned Kyra’s mortar board onto her unruly hair with more than 30
bobby pins. Her dad and I then gave her
a kiss and a squeeze, left her in the hands of her amazing associate and 87
classmates, and found our seats.
During the presentation of diplomas, Kyra’s sisters shared their tissues with me as we watched the parade of classmates ascend the platform, receive their diplomas, and move the tassel of the next graduate from the right to the left, completing the rite of passage.
As soon as Kyra’s classmate Nolan Adair took hold of her
wheelchair and fell into place, I was glad I had a tissue in my hand. Then Kyra’s name was called out, and
thunderous applause erupted. This was not
the polite applause of general acknowledgement, nor spectacular shout-outs and
whistles from a wedge of seats containing family and friends. Instead, it seemed like the entire assembly
was clapping and cheering in one accord.
And Kyra smiled her bold, confident smile at everyone.
After Kyra received her diploma, Nolan deftly turned her
wheelchair around on the stage, and waited.
The high school principal waved them on, indicating that they should
exit via the one ramp that had (grudgingly) been laid against the platform. Nolan and Kyra didn’t move. The principal, somewhat perplexed, waved again: Didn’t Nolan see that it was time for them to
leave? Nolan stood quietly with Kyra,
waiting for the next graduate to be announced. With a sigh, the next name was called. The graduate stepped forward, received her
diploma, and had her tassel moved from the right to the left by Kyra and Nolan.
Then Nolan helped Kyra leave the stage, having completed the rite of passage.
I am so proud of this high school class; the class that
tumbled into Kindergarten with Kyra, and drew her along with them for 13 years
of learning, taking chances, and encouraging other students with special needs
to come home to our local district.
In
his commencement speech, graduate Harrison Cook first acknowledged the unique
gifts of Kyra and other classmates with special needs, then with a catch in his
voice said, “We’re all cemented together, forever, and nobody can take that
away.”
Peace.
G-Tube Celebration Food
If you use a g-tube, eating during graduation parties and
other celebrations can be difficult, and planning ahead is your best bet. We like to keep individual containers of
apple sauce and powdered peanut butter on hand for when meal times and
celebrations overlap. Mix these with
some almond milk or coconut milk, if available, for a nutritional boost. For ladies,
a skirt/blouse combination, or a dress with a side zipper allows better emergency
access to a g-tube, while retaining modesty and dignity.
Above all, a little bit of humor and humility help. Life is about being there… don’t be afraid to
add your mark to the wet cement of humanity!