Yes, This Is News

This won't be found in the LA Times. Though really, it should. So here it is, an exclusive for the heart and soul of the paper --the Pressmen.

SOMEWHERE NEAR MY HOUSE, USA -Yesterday, I attended an honor & graduation at my son's high school. They told me to be there because even though it wasn't his year to graduate, they'd be giving him an honor for being ASB secretary.

So much to my son's dismay (because teens want nothing more than their mothers to either look like Paris Hilton or just disappear), I showed up with balloons and gifts. There were 8 graduates. I wanted to make a very big deal out of their success. All have overcome incredible obstacles and for some, this might be the only graduation they have for awhile.

All of these kids have varying degrees of emotional and mental challenges. They were just super, couldn't have asked for nicer kids. A lot of them live in group homes, some are foster children. As tough as I think my kid has it, it's nothing compares to the hell they've probably had to go through in their young lives. I recognized how lucky they were to have found this school.

At one point, each grad gave a rose to 3 people who'd meant a lot to them.
They had to tell why they were giving them the flower.
"I want to thank my therapist for helping me deal with frustration."
I want to thank my teacher for teaching me my whole life."
I want to thank my aide for helping me when I didn't know what to do."
"I want to thank my Mom, because she's my Mom."
And one girl who has limited speech ran around the room handing them out, and even gave one to her bus driver.

This is the most honest thing I've ever heard at ANY graduation. How many of us should have stood up and said the same things? And how trite are all other commencement speeches compared to this? Commencements at Harvard can barely compare in either integrity or soulfulness of these kids. And as long as I'm on a roll, I might as well tell all the ivy leaguers reading this piece, you don't have anything over these kids.

So finally they get around to other honors. Never mind, none of the parents can hear because we're bawling. Everyone was so proud.
I hear my name being called. Me...mine...I look up at the teacher.
"Would you please come up here? You're our parent of the year."
Wow. Each teacher had their parent of the year, and in this class, I'd been chosen.

All that nagging, all these years.
We are not perfect. But we accept this in ourselves and one another. It hasn't been easy --in fact it's been hard.

Now I'm off to the backyard to clean up dog poo. The beasties have been at it again. Someone has to do it. Might as well be the Parent Of The Year.