My twins have completed kindergarten, as of a couple of weeks ago. I figured the class year would conclude with cupcakes and crayons, but, as is becoming my habit when predicting all things school, I was wrong.
“Mommy, are you coming to our graduation?” Grant asked.
“Your what?”
“Our graduation. It’s Thursday morning.”
“It’s what happens when you finish kindergarten,” Anne added helpfully.
I rubbed my temples, remembering the pink sheet of paper I’d seen about the events planned for the last week of school. “Ahh. You mean your awards ceremony. Yes, of course I’ll be there.”
“It’s graduation, too, Mommy,” Grant said.
“No, sweetie, it’s not. You only graduate when you receive a diploma or a degree in something.”
“What?”
“Well, you graduate from high school, and from college, and from graduate school. You get diplomas for all those things.”
Then there was a lengthy discussion about what diplomas were, and what exactly a degree signified, and some peering at the framed ones in our study.
“So you see,” I said, sipping my coffee, “you’re moving from kindergarten to the first grade. Which is fabulous. But you’re not graduating. And of course I’ll be at your awards ceremony.”
Throughout this speech I kept thinking it sounded familiar, but I couldn’t recall why. This is certainly the first time I’d ever had to explain anything like this to kids of my own.
Thursday morning, Mark and I went to the awards ceremony. (I still categorically refuse to call it a “graduation.”) All four kindergarten classes were in the gym. That’s eighty-something kindergartners, folks.
And they all got at least two awards.
When it became clear that the teachers were calling up entire class rosters in alphabetical order, I turned to Mark and whispered, “Can you even call it an awards ceremony if everyone gets an award?”
He whispered back, “Well, yeah, if it’s kindergarten.”
Then it hit me. Why my speech seemed familiar. It was a line from The Incredibles, after Mrs. Incredible chastised Mr. Incredible for missing his own son’s fourth grade graduation. He said, “It is not a graduation! He is moving from the fourth grade to the fifth grade.”
Watching those kids troop up to the stage one after the other, another moment from the movie drifted into my mind. Dash, in the car with his mother, who was telling him “Everybody’s special.” He slumped and said, “That’s just another way of saying no one is.”
Exactly.
Nobody wants to see their children left out of an awards ceremony, or have their self-esteem crushed, but are we doing right by our children coddling them this way? The much-mocked participation trophies of soccer have made their way inside our schools, and instead of laughing at the concept like we do on the field, we clap politely from our seats.
What happens, then, when we get to the point where there are actual awards, ones that everyone can’t win? How will we have helped our children prepare for the possibility (no, the inevitability) that they will not always be the best by training them to expect accolades for the ordinary? How are we shaping good people by feeding them a steady diet of entitlement instead of expectations? How is this good for self-esteem in the long run?
And what about the children who are actually excelling? We cheapen their achievements by burying them in a long list of pseudo-honors.
I’m not callous, contrary to how this might sound. I am proud of my children, but to be honest, I expected that they would move from kindergarten to the first grade. I’m not proud of that part so much as I am of the things that have happened along the way; things they don’t recognize at awards ceremonies. My heart bursts with pride when I think of how my children have learned to eschew bullies and play with people who include everyone. Or how Grant has learned to read faster than he can talk, or the way Anne now reads with the same dramatic flair she brings to her everyday conversations.
My kids proved me wrong, by the way. They each brought home folders with their awards, and to my shock, a diploma, certifying that they had each completed the course of study required for kindergarten in the state of North Carolina.
All I can say to that is that if the state is spending money to print kindergarten diploma certificates (in color) for every child in the state … well, we need to take a serious look at our priorities.
Oh my goodness, I HATE calling something like that a graduation before they actually graduate high school. I sure as heck hope that my kids don’t have a kindergarten graduation.
Laura, I would be more surprised if they didn’t have one.
What I’m struggling to understand is, if so many parents feel this way, why do we act like sheep and troop into these things, sit in neat little rows, and clap when instructed? (And in some cases, record and take pictures? I’ve done it myself.)
The answer is probably societal pressure. If you don’t do this stuff you must not be supporting your kids. Or if you express your dismay, you clearly want to stomp on puppies and kill the last unicorn.
Something like that.
I get confused by where to draw the line on it all. Because I’m totally okay with my youngest’s soccer trophies this season(4y/o soccer players can have trophies). But was majorly annoyed by them for my oldest’s team, who did not win a single game all season. While I still expressed to him how proud I was of how much he improved during the season, a trophy seemed silly.
Much the way that graduation seems extreme unless it’s a big transition. Our kindergarten didn’t do a graduation or even an awards ceremony. Just a party. I’m all for cake.
Hey, Shell!
Yes, there is a line somewhere. But we’re way past it.
We were in a soccer league when the kids were 4, and my son played his little heart out, though he didn’t know which way to go or what was going on. My daughter played in roughly two games before she decided she was too scared to go on the field. She spent the rest of the games on the sidelines with us in her uniform. Sometimes she’d bring pom-poms. I was mortified. They didn’t have enough players because she wouldn’t get her rear out there. And at the end? Of COURSE, she got a participation trophy. I had half a mind to make her give it back, because she didn’t actually participate. But she was four so I let it go. But if that were to happen now? I would make her give it back.
I know, I know. I’m a mean mommy.
But still, all for cake.
I had a kindergarten graduation when I was a kid – complete with little white graduation robes and hats with tassels. It was ridiculous.
My daughter recently entered a poetry contest. They announced the winner during a big poetry festival. She didn’t win (which was sad), but she made me proud when she congratulated the girl who did win. It was a good lesson. And when we went home, she told me she wants to try again next year.
You have to let kids learn that not everyone wins every time. It is an important life lesson.
Exactly!
And wouldn’t we rather they learn that at an age when not winning isn’t that big a deal?
Tell your daughter I’m proud of her, too. Part of being a writer is dealing with rejection gracefully. Many adults can’t do that. Good for her.
It’s interesting. I expected my kiddo would have a graduation, but they didn’t do it. We didn’t have an awards ceremony, either. My husband was glad but I felt bad about it as I knew my niece had one in NY last year and thought most schools here do it. It varies, but nothing wasn’t horrible. But I still referred to it as graduation. Something about K makes it a graduation. Like K isn’t an actual “school year” or something. It’s its own grade.
But I get what you mean and why you said what you did to your kids. As for awarding everyone, our school had several award ceremonies throughout the year and did NOT award everyone. The first time not all the kids were in attendance, so as to make sure they didn’t feel bad, I guess, but the last one we went to all 4 K classes were there and not everyone got something, which was cool with me. And the kids didn’t seem to mind, really. Anyway, I guess I agree some with your post and disagree some, as well. But that’s good, because that’s what makes for great discussions!
I definitely thought of kindergarten as an actual school year! And yes, it’s a big transition, but one everyone has to make.
The awards piece is hard. They’re kids, but part of our jobs as parents (and for educators) is to help them grow up. And growing up means that you don’t get rewarded for just showing up.
Yes, it stinks, but isn’t it better to learn that early?
And I’m so glad we can agree and disagree nicely! Thanks for commenting, Andrea!
I’m with you. I was so so thankful our PreK didn’t do one. There was just a program where each PreK class got to sing some songs in front of us and then a little after party with punch and cookies. I felt like it was the appropriate level of fanfare. Sing a song, hug your teacher good bye. I’m all for celebrating, but come. on. How needy are our kids going to be as adults? Guess what? You’re not going to be fantastic at everything. And that is more than fine. Maybe we should teach our kids to place their identities in something greater than achievements and diplomas.
Preach it, sister.
And hells to the yes on your last sentence. YES.
I think they need to know that they have to work for honors and awards. At what age that needs to kick in… I’m not sure. But yeah. I don’t really get it either.
I’m not sure about what age, but when you get in an organized elementary school setting, I think you’re there. I have vivid memories of spelling bees, most of which I didn’t win. But I remember them because I wanted so damn badly to win that I studied my ass off.
Oh, bless you for saying it!
I thank the school board daily for not “graduating” the kids out of their two-year public pre-school program. I don’t know what will happen next year at the end of K, but I am all for cake and moving up without Pomp and Circumstance.
Nor am I financially in a place to rent a freaking cap and gown for someone who is 6. Just saying.
I’m trying hard to teach them these things now: that not everyone can win and that winning isn’t everything. Sure, it’s just in little games of Bingo for now, but I’m trying. And then of course a lot of it will be undone when they go to school and get an award for showing up.
Hey Angie,,,,
We have just attended our Grandaughter’s “graduation” from pre-k into Kindergarten. (Fortunately, I had the pleasure of taking my two and a half year old grandson out into the hall to occupy his time during the ceremonies and didn’t have to sit through it.) I say ceremonies, because each of the graduates participated in pledge to the US flag, the state flag, the Christian flag , sang patriotic songs, read banners, exhibited their ‘reading’ skills, received awards, the whole ball of wax. Then they all left and filed back in dressed in their caps and gowns to Pomp and Circumstance! The affair took over an hour for around 20. I bit my tongue and did the hugs and accolades, yet,
there was NO cake after! I wholly agree with you. The entire school system has changed over the years to a feel-good,everyone gets an award system and because everyone is special,,,no one is!
Every time I hear Mr. Incredible say this line, I want to give a standing ovation . . .
“It’s not a graduation. He is moving from the 4th grade to the 5th grade. It’s psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity.”
It sums it up nicely. Thanks, Disney
It’s a generation of adults being afraid to say no, of avoiding ‘hurt’ feelings, making sure no one gets picked last and so on.
Why are we mollycoddling kids? How will they deal when they get into the real world?
I’m not mean mom by any means, but I want to allow them to know what it’s like to fail occasionally, and to feel like they’re not that special (they’re always special to ME though), all the freaking time.
Kindergarten graduation. Seriously. If my son’s school does preschool graduation, I will lose my sh*t. Just sayin’.
I’m on the fence. I think you made great points, and this was not the k’garten graduation post I had expected. (I liked it).
But I think at that age, there is still this budding hope mixed with insecurity – “I can do everything!” along with “Am I as good as the others?” Or at least I see that in my middle child, who is seven. I would clap and smile at their “diplomas” and use it as yet another opportunity to encourage their confidence.
However, with my nine-year old, I am starting to say things like, “You only get that good if you practice.” “No matter what you do in life, even if you are talented (like you are), you have to work at it.” I don’t want her to think because she’s brilliant and gorgeous (ahem, says her mother) she can use it as an excuse to be lazy.
But then … what do I know? I just love ’em and hope they turn out alright. 😉
I do think “graduating” from K is silly. My G completed K this year and there is a photo of him in a cap and gown that his teacher took but they did not parade around in their awards ceremony like that. I agree that it does get to be a little too much. And I agree that those who work the hardest and achieve the most deserve to be recognized and not just “everyone”. If not, why work so hard in the first place…
My first thought on reading this was…”heh, rookie” because I went to my godson’s kindergarten graduation and he’s in his mid-20s now. But now I just feel envious of anyone who has lived in blissful ignorance of the existence of wee tiny graduation gowns.
Though I have to admit that the kids were kind of adorable.
The thought that only those who achieve the most, or are the ‘best’, should be awarded is closed-minded, especially when we are talking about kindergarten. We all compete and compare ourselves to others everyday – even at the age of 6. Kindergarteners know who is the best reader and writer, who is good at math, and who has good behavior. They don’t need to sit down at the end of their year (after doing THEIR best) to be told that they aren’t number one in the class (they know). Why isn’t everyone special? They are – in their own way. Maybe we just aren’t choosing to acknowledge their achievements because we are too concerned with who is the ‘best’ by societal claims.
This is FABULOUS!!! Thank you for posting it.
Thanks for this — I was just made to feel like a horrible mother by my son’s teacher for not wanting to miss my work (I teach at a University) in order to attend a kindergarten graduation. I’m so glad to see that others find it utterly silly. Many thanks — having just adopted, it’s nice to know I’m not so awful after all.
Isn’t it torture to make 80 five-year-olds sit still while they all troop up front for two awards each? How is that for them?
While I think over the top tassel, gown, walking over a bridge ceremonies are a bit much, I think getting a certificate is very important. While I think it silly to get trophies for showing up, it’s school. Getting up every morning, learning the school ways for the first time, meeting and trying to fit in with all the other kids, that is a HUGE step for a child. They are so unsure about themselves and about their confidence (well my son is). I think kindergarten is very important to celebrate. They achieved so much and I think it gives them something to pat their backs about. These days, with moms on phones and busy running the show, (myself included) the kids at that age need a moment to be recognized for their achievement. Just my thoughts. My sons school was not celebrating at all, and it made me a little sad. So I made certificates for each kid to be handed out at the end of the day. It’s just a piece of paper, but hey, I think they deserve a little recognition for all their hard work throughout the past three years of kindergarten classes. I honestly don’t think they just ‘showed up’. They struggled and learned together.
I honestly don’t see what the big deal is with our kids having a Kindergarten Graduation saying its ridiculous! !If we can get it together to celebrate a few of those early milestones, why on earth would we not? Because, contrary to popular belief, most kids aren’t being celebrated all day, every day. They are shuttled to and from school, daycare and extracurriculars, plopped in front of TVs and iPads while dinner is made and 95 percent of their artwork goes directly into the recycling bin. I don’t think there’s such a thing as too much love and attention in the first place, but even if there were, that threshold is a far cry from where most of us are standing. If ever an occasion called out for a juice box, cupcake and Xeroxed certificate, then kindergarten graduation is it. My son won’t have another one for eight years, so I say right on. You women are ridiculous making it like its a big problem. Seriously get over it and if you don’t like then don’t ATTEND!!