#531 Rules of Disengagement

Interesting story out of the Midwest.
Seems Indianapolis Public Schools Superintendent Eugene White has forbidden parents from cheering when their graduate’s name is called during the graduation ceremony.
He said his new policy is aimed at restoring a sense of decorum and to ensure each name is heard. “The graduation commencement is the completion of a 12 year program of study. It’s a joyous time, a proud time, and a formal time. It’s not a party,” he said, “It’s not a pep rally.”
Someone throw this man a lemon to suck on.
Of course it’s a party.
And how can you be joyous without a little hooting and hollering and carrying on?
I’m sorry people get carried away sometimes. But I don’t go to a graduation to sip tea from demitasse cups and air out my raised little finger.
I go to cheer.
As one parent put it, “some kids overcome tremendous challenges to get through. We sometimes cheer for the kids we know have struggled, especially if no one else does.”
There didn’t appear to be anything in the news about the superintendent forbidding cheering because he was sensitive to the self-esteem of those not cheered for.
And we’ve all seen those at graduations. The popular kids got their rooting section. The struggling kids got theirs. The mid kids just shamble up and shuffle off, cheerless and forgotten, destined to be the next Bill Gates.
But here’s where the superintendent really took his imperiousness seriously. He sent letters home to parents announcing the policy of no applause. Then he reminded them that there would be 30 school police officers on hand to enforce the rules.
Bring out the storm police.
Someone is clapping.
Blow the whistle on the hooter. Gag the hollering offender.
Having your parent zip-tied and dragged out of the ceremony because he or she cheered for you—there’s a blow to your self esteem.
I’m guessing superintendent Eugene won’t be getting a standing ovation at the end of his traditional commencement address.
Perhaps the parents would be generous enough to silently proffer him some produce. You know, throw stuff at him.
I suggest lemons.
America ya gotta love it