My brother graduated from high school yesterday.
I was so excited to see one of my heroes reach such an important stage in his life.
Then the nightmare began.
Before we begin, I should mention that if you went to Mount St. Charles, you should stop reading this now, because I have absolutely nothing nice to say about their ceremony, school, or students who are not directly related to me.
Now onto the fun.
For one thing, the ceremony was at one o'clock on a Sunday. How festive, right? I can see an afternoon ceremony, but one o'clock is pushing it. Graduations are like the theater--it's just not as much fun when it's a matinee.
Secondly, the ceremony was held in the hockey arena. Yes, you read that right--the hockey arena. Mount St. Charles, for those of you Non-Rhode Islanders, had this incredible hockey dynasty where they imported Canadians and won the state title a million years in a row. Rather than develop an academic record they could be proud of, or other extracurricular specialties, they decided to just focus on the hockey.
The dynasty was brought down a few years ago, but they still insist on having their graduation in a hockey arena, thereby dragging the whole event down to the level of The Harlem Globetrotters.
Now, I understand that hockey probably means a lot to the school, but what about the kids who didn't play hockey? In other words, the MAJORITY of the other students. I loved theater in high school and had a special connection to it, but I still wouldn't have considered it fair if students who didn't do theater were forced to graduate there while I did a monologue from--anyway, I digress.
The problems with the arena, aside from the fact that it was an arena, were that the acoustics were awful, and it was impossible to keep everybody quiet. I graduated from LaSalle in the Cathedral downtown. Cathedrals tend to inspire reverence. They also make you go "Wow, I'm graduating from a school my parents just sunk thousands of dollars into for the past four years!"
Hockey arenas? Not so much.
They also did NOTHING to make the place look more appealing. This made the entire crowd more restless. (It probably didn't help that one o'clock is not exactly "The Listening Hour.")
They also announced the names of the colleges the students would be going to when they handed out their diplomas.
I find this to be unnecessary. I do think you should be proud of whatever college you're going to, but it ends up becoming a competitive thing.
"Lauren Smith...URI" Polite Clapping.
"Donald Brown...Rhode Island College" Police Clapping.
"Amy Adams...Harvard" Insane Clapping and Whooing.
Look, everybody's graduating. It's everybody's day. I just don't see the point in making anybody feel inferior when most of high school is so competitive anyway.
I was sitting next to my brother Ryan, who's attending public school, because after my brother David and myself milked my mother dry from attending two private schools, she didn't have the money to send my brother Ryan--I know, we all feel guilty.
So imagine the look on my brother's face when the class valedictorian actually cracked a joke about public schools in her speech.
I saw my brother flinch, so I leaned over and whispered to him--"We're sitting on folding chairs in a hockey arena. This is as public school as it gets."
After the ceremony, and here comes the strictly hilarious part (I promise) I rode with my grandmother and my cousin to my brother's party.
The problem was that the arena was not designed to hold an event as big as a graduation. (I know, it's called an "arena" but it's actually the size of an auditorium.)
That meant parking was--say it with me--a nightmare.
The road around the building was all one-way, and the entire building emptied out into the front parking lot, which is where everyone was when my grandmother pulled out into the lot and decided that come Hell or High Water, she was getting out.
People were snapping photos, hugging relatives, and having a great time--when a giant Cadillac came (slowly) pushing through the crowd.
My cousin was in the backseat, so she ducked down like Lindsey during a run to Dairy Queen. I tried to hide my face, but to no avail.
This all would have been merely embarrassing rather than humiliating, if my grandmother hadn't rolled down the window and explained the situation to EVERY PERSON WE PASSED.
At one point, she instructed a man taking photos to take her photo. He declined.
Clearly, this was not as special a day as my brother would have hoped, but being the trooper that he is, he only said--
"At least you'll have something to write about later."
Do you see why he's my hero?
I was so excited to see one of my heroes reach such an important stage in his life.
Then the nightmare began.
Before we begin, I should mention that if you went to Mount St. Charles, you should stop reading this now, because I have absolutely nothing nice to say about their ceremony, school, or students who are not directly related to me.
Now onto the fun.
For one thing, the ceremony was at one o'clock on a Sunday. How festive, right? I can see an afternoon ceremony, but one o'clock is pushing it. Graduations are like the theater--it's just not as much fun when it's a matinee.
Secondly, the ceremony was held in the hockey arena. Yes, you read that right--the hockey arena. Mount St. Charles, for those of you Non-Rhode Islanders, had this incredible hockey dynasty where they imported Canadians and won the state title a million years in a row. Rather than develop an academic record they could be proud of, or other extracurricular specialties, they decided to just focus on the hockey.
The dynasty was brought down a few years ago, but they still insist on having their graduation in a hockey arena, thereby dragging the whole event down to the level of The Harlem Globetrotters.
Now, I understand that hockey probably means a lot to the school, but what about the kids who didn't play hockey? In other words, the MAJORITY of the other students. I loved theater in high school and had a special connection to it, but I still wouldn't have considered it fair if students who didn't do theater were forced to graduate there while I did a monologue from--anyway, I digress.
The problems with the arena, aside from the fact that it was an arena, were that the acoustics were awful, and it was impossible to keep everybody quiet. I graduated from LaSalle in the Cathedral downtown. Cathedrals tend to inspire reverence. They also make you go "Wow, I'm graduating from a school my parents just sunk thousands of dollars into for the past four years!"
Hockey arenas? Not so much.
They also did NOTHING to make the place look more appealing. This made the entire crowd more restless. (It probably didn't help that one o'clock is not exactly "The Listening Hour.")
They also announced the names of the colleges the students would be going to when they handed out their diplomas.
I find this to be unnecessary. I do think you should be proud of whatever college you're going to, but it ends up becoming a competitive thing.
"Lauren Smith...URI" Polite Clapping.
"Donald Brown...Rhode Island College" Police Clapping.
"Amy Adams...Harvard" Insane Clapping and Whooing.
Look, everybody's graduating. It's everybody's day. I just don't see the point in making anybody feel inferior when most of high school is so competitive anyway.
I was sitting next to my brother Ryan, who's attending public school, because after my brother David and myself milked my mother dry from attending two private schools, she didn't have the money to send my brother Ryan--I know, we all feel guilty.
So imagine the look on my brother's face when the class valedictorian actually cracked a joke about public schools in her speech.
I saw my brother flinch, so I leaned over and whispered to him--"We're sitting on folding chairs in a hockey arena. This is as public school as it gets."
After the ceremony, and here comes the strictly hilarious part (I promise) I rode with my grandmother and my cousin to my brother's party.
The problem was that the arena was not designed to hold an event as big as a graduation. (I know, it's called an "arena" but it's actually the size of an auditorium.)
That meant parking was--say it with me--a nightmare.
The road around the building was all one-way, and the entire building emptied out into the front parking lot, which is where everyone was when my grandmother pulled out into the lot and decided that come Hell or High Water, she was getting out.
People were snapping photos, hugging relatives, and having a great time--when a giant Cadillac came (slowly) pushing through the crowd.
My cousin was in the backseat, so she ducked down like Lindsey during a run to Dairy Queen. I tried to hide my face, but to no avail.
This all would have been merely embarrassing rather than humiliating, if my grandmother hadn't rolled down the window and explained the situation to EVERY PERSON WE PASSED.
At one point, she instructed a man taking photos to take her photo. He declined.
Clearly, this was not as special a day as my brother would have hoped, but being the trooper that he is, he only said--
"At least you'll have something to write about later."
Do you see why he's my hero?
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