The Graduate

By Nicholas Stix My son graduated today. He just turned five in February, and yet he’s already received the first in a long line of meaningless honors. It’s called “Stepping Up” from pre-K to Kindergarten. Some folks call that “finishing pre-school,” but in fact, Kindergarten is pre-school. Most people (including, it would seem, those school and social work officials who chase after parents whose kindergarteners are absent overly much) may be unaware of this, but parents are not obliged to send their children to any sort of school, prior to the tykes’ sixth birthday. When my Hungarian-born Nana was growing up on Manhattan’s Lower East Side in the late 1890s and early aughts, she had only one graduation – from grammar school, at the age of 14. And that grammar school diploma of Nana’s was worth something. Then it was out into the world of work, to help support her aging parents as a secretary. And when my mom graduated high school in 1947, her diploma was so valuable that it got her a responsible job in insurance. In spite of being deprived of pre-school, my mother’s schooling had given her a better academic background than most of today’s master’s degree recipients have. By the time my son completes the eighth grade, he shall have graduated pre-K, Kindergarten, and elementary school -- three ceremonies -- with his junior high and high school graduations yet to come. Once he graduates high school, he will have experienced five graduation ceremonies, yet the diploma he will be awarded will be considered worthless by employers and educators alike, and will get him, at best, a job flipping burgers. Ain’t progress grand?