Commencing

A reflection on moments of light

Last night was Clemente graduation in Boston.

I’m no longer directing the Dorchester Clemente Course but I still teach art history at Clemente, in the fall, so it had been a while since I had been in a classroom or seen these students.

Only five of them finished this year. Life happens. A car accident. A new job. Changing economics. Fear of immigration policies. These things derail Clemente students.

One student came very close to finishing and disappeared. This is not unusual. We understand fear of failure, but there’s also such thing as a fear of success. Think about it: What would it mean if you didn’t think of yourself as a good student but you were suddenly a few weeks from finishing a year-long course and earning college credit? Would you be the same person? If you proved to yourself you could write college-level papers in art history, moral philosophy, American history and literature, does that imply that you could have done that earlier? Would it mean that you didn’t know yourself as well as you thought? Would it mean that you had wasted years of potential? Success is a marker of change that can cause a lot of consternation.

But five students persevered, and earned their college credits. Their families supported them as they came to class twice a week, two hours a session, and at graduation, the families and friends came out to cheer them walking across the stage of The Great Hall. Little kids proud of their mothers ran around quizzing people on the multiplication table. Old friends from high school admired their buddy earning college credits more than three decades later.

The student and faculty speeches acknowledged the historical present, that we’re living in a world where higher education is under attack by our own government.

But the evening was not about that. It was despite that.

Years ago, a student told me she had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Oh no, Mary, I said. Take all the time you need, don’t feel you have to come to class. She looked at me, shocked. Are you kidding? Coming to class is my time. It’s the only time I can just talk about books and art and ethics and forget about the tumor and what might happen to my family without me.

I was thinking about Mary because the Clemente graduation was a few hours for me when I didn’t have to think about the world outside the walls. For an hour or two, I could celebrate smart, kind people who chose to dedicate themselves to a challenging academic pursuit for a year. People who are serious about self-improvement, and changing themselves, if not changing the world. People looking for like-minded people to have adult conversations with, and supporting each other when things were hard. People who wanted to expand their world, and to better understand their place within it. Along the way, they formed a community, and I feel lucky to have been included within it.

After the official graduation ceremony, no one wanted to go home. They stood around and took photos to remember the moment, and they introduced one another to their partners and children and teachers. I didn’t want to go home either.

Oh, I should probably mention that Mary’s tumor was benign. She lives in the area near Codman Square and I would occasionally see her when I was going to class, and she always gave me a huge smile.

I was going to say that Mary’s story had a happy ending but her story hasn’t ended yet. Maybe it makes more sense to say that her story had a happy moment. Just like last night was a happy moment. We need to appreciate those moments as they happen and let them help recharge us for the days ahead.

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In other news, The Porch Rockers are playing from 12:30 -2pm on June 7 at 702 Chestnut Street in Newton as part of Newton Porchfest. We like to say we’re the best mom rock band in New England with a setlist that includes Alanis Morissette, Sheryl Crowe, Dua Lipa, Maggie Rogers, Liz Phair, and Miley Cyrus. Should be another happy moment and I hope to see you there!