Last night, my youngest son was inducted into National Honor Society at his school. There was the usual grumbling about going--not sure what "dressed up" meant on the invitation, are others really going to be there, etc. Busy schedules and multiple conflicts aside, we went--my son, his dad, and I.
We arrived to find the principal gesturing us to where there were still a few open seats in a packed chapel. Since he attends a Jesuit high school, the ceremony began with a prayer, thanking God for the gifts of scholarship and asking for help in using them well. I love this about the school--that there is a thoughtful prayer shared for the occasion. I know that this is not appropriate in all schools, as this type of prayer is particular to one faith. However, since it is my faith (Christianity, not Catholicism...) and the school we all chose, it soothes me as a parent to hear words about God when we gather.
Another aspect I admired about how this achievement was honored was the perspective that the speaker shared. Essentially, she said, "We know you're able to get good grades--you've shown that. Now what are you going to do? How are you going to share that talent, that gift with others so that everyone is lifted up?" Service is a requirement of National Honor Society at this school. Students must commit to several hours of tutoring others in need each year. It's not a huge commitment, but it is there, and it is integrity with what they espouse, which I admire and support.
Afterward, there were cookies and soft drinks. I mean, you deserve a cookie if you get into National Honor Society, right? We mingled with other parents, whom we have seen at other events--scouts and band and swim team and graduations of older siblings. Some looked a little more ragged than others--we have crossed into the time in our lives when many are dealing with difficult decisions about parents with dementia or Alzheimer's or "confusion." But my thoughts turned to the kids who weren't there.
I wished that every child could be acknowledged in such an honoring way for their gifts and talents. I wished that every school could honor the academically successful, the athletically successful, the dramatically successful, the artistically successful, the service-oriented, the scientifically successful, the socially successful--and the kids for whom making it to school each day is their success. I wished there was a way to give those kids who have slept on the couch, or endured another night of drunken parents, or no parents at home, or fighting parents--those who have not had enough food, or who are sick and don't have health care, or who just really need someone to talk to--I wished there was a way to appropriately honor those kids. To let them know that we, the adults whom society defines as "successful," see who they really are--that we see their beautiful spirits and we love them and are here for them; that we are able and willing to reflect back to them the best of who they are instead of the worst or their mistakes.
I don't know how that would look on the school calendar, but I trust there are those people every day who are in the schools doing just that. Sometimes, we have to redefine our definitions of success.
Appropriately, last night's ceremony was closed with this prayer from St. Francis of Assissi. May we each take it to heart today, and reflect the best in all who cross our paths:
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