This past week I sat in on two events at The Community School that warmed my heart. I could have been in any school, anywhere, and enjoyed the scene, but this is the place where I worked for most of my years here and whose students I know. First, I heard some seniors who shared their experiences on spring projects. One had spent time interning at the Broadway production of "Witches," the other at the Joffrey Ballet, and the third at an orphanage in Tanzania. Their presentations shared a common theme of hope and optimism in approaching what lies ahead. J.P. McNeal surprised me the most with his summary of the attitudes of the Masai, whose long and noble history is being truncated by the devastation of AIDS. He said that (and I paraphrase) in spite of being decimated by the losses the illness has wrought, they fulfill their own times on earth with joy and zest.
The second event was "Kindernight," a yearly delight I never fail to attend. Ali Lane's 15 kindergartners exhibited precocious confidence and grace and even the ability to sing on key. Of course the tears ran down my cheeks in a sentimental glut when these tiny scholars sang songs celebrating the monuments of Washington, D.C., and even more so when they were recognized for the distinct qualities they already possess: the class nurturer, the budding chairman of the board, the consistent joy-giver.
I hope to keep attending these and other events even though I no longer work at that school. Preparing to see the fifth-grade "Moving Up" ceremony, I began to think about why I am so attracted to occasions that smear my mascara. The overwhelming reason, other than love for particular human beings who participate in any given event, is that these occasions celebrate the hope and joy of life and remind me why I have devoted so many years to the classroom and to working with children. Nothing inspires me more than the freshness of view they represent.
It is easy to be cynical in today's climate of anger, fear and distrust. I am not pleased with much of what my government does, and I am often dismayed by the negative energy we spend on so many petty issues. Perhaps a visit to a graduation or commencement ceremony is just what I need to remember that I do believe in the basic goodness of man and still possess my unflagging sense of optimism about the future, if we can just survive the present.
The Today show is hosting a series called "Live for Today," where people are realizing their fantasies from sky-diving to exotic travel. While I am a bit dismayed that the show's cast itself will also get to embark on these adventures (these overpaid newscasters and celebrities can do wonderful things all the time), the participants embody the power of possessing dreams. If given a chance, I would still like to fulfill some of my fantasies. It makes the mundane seem easier if I can picture myself observing African elephants in the wild, being a member of the crowd at the Boston Pops' party for the 4th of July, even perhaps sailing the Greek Islands. One little fantasy is to be a commencement speaker myself, imparting, I would imagine, just the right words (few cliches, of course) to a rapt audience. Part of my wish stems from being a natural ham, but also because I want to share what I have learned from watching children grow.
The essence of my speech would, of course, be the advice to practice "carpe diem"—grab all the opportunities out there to savor each moment. Recently I saw a phrase that summed it all up. It said, " Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." I have begun my own (and probably best left private) list of spectacular moments, and some of them stun me with their simplicity, such as holding my firstborn for the first time.
My hope for the young people I spent time with this past week is the opportunity to experience such moments and the ability to get through the times when those moments are rare. I, for one, am testament to the belief that if one keeps open to the joys of life, a trait I would wish to share, even in grief, with the Masai, there are treasures each day to grasp.
JoEllen Collins
