With five kids, three of whom have already graduated from high school, I know the drill – the ceremony always takes place on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend in our community college’s field house and the students need to pick up their tickets weeks in advance.
When it was son #4’s turn to do just that a little while back, I reminded him how many he needed to request. Later that same day, he dutifully placed them in my eager hands.
This, in turn, triggered a flurry of activity on my end: relay the logistics to the relatives, plan the party, and send out invitations. Easy-peasy. I had done it so many times before, I could do the whole routine with my eyes closed.
But I didn’t, because this year was extra special.
This graduate is extra special.
As you may recall, my son #4 has Asperger’s Syndrome.
Since starting in our school district’s outstanding special needs preschool when he just three years old, completely non-verbal, and had to be tethered to his seat to keep him from running around the classroom upending everything in sight, he has leapt over ever bar anyone ever tried to place in front of him.
By first grade, he was in regular classrooms and by high school, he was a straight-A student, making academic all-conference as a member of the boys’ cross-country team.
And, yes, in the fall, he will be going to college.
I couldn’t be prouder.
Just to be clear, my son did not accomplish all of this alone. Along the way, he has had a number of patient and caring aides, teachers and support staff guiding and encouraging him, letting him vent when he was frustrated and his arsenal of coping mechanisms failed him.
They, too, are proud of him. And, like me and the rest of his family, we couldn’t wait for him to cross that stage, totally rocking that black cap and gown, and smile for the cameras, diploma in hand.
Just days after securing the graduation ceremony tickets to our refrigerator with a magnetized clip, though, I noticed my son did not seem anywhere near as thrilled as I was. Quite the opposite in fact. His smile was gone. In fact, I hadn’t seen it since he handed me the tickets.
Instead, as he usually does when he’s anxious, he had grown quiet, was frequently spotted twirling the curls just above his forehead with his index finger, and was avoiding eye contact at every turn.
When I asked if anything was wrong, he blurted, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t want to do it.”
“Do what?” I asked, although I suspected I already knew the answer. Struggling to keep a smile on my face lest I upset him further, I watched as he wrestled with what he was about to say.
“Graduation. I just don’t want to do it.” Casting a quick worried glance at me, he rushed to take back what he just said. “I mean, if you want me to, I will, but I’ll just be doing it for you.”
My heart broke for him. After all this time, how could I possibly think he’d be comfortable sitting still amongst hundreds of other graduates, waiting patiently for his name to be called, only to have a myriad of flashes go off as he received what in his mind was just a piece of paper?
Before I could reply, he grumbled, “And I just can’t stand that music they play. Over and over.”
Sheer torture. I could see it in his face.
Still, having a child skip the graduation ceremony was a new one for me. I wondered if the school would even allow such a thing.
I shrugged. “It’s OK with me. Just let me check with your counselor to make sure the school is cool with it.”
And, of course, they were.
“Can we still throw you a party?” I asked through a tight grin, now fully aware that I may want that more than he does.
At this he perked up. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
And he was smiling again. The best sight ever.
13 thoughts on “Why I’m Letting My Son Skip Graduation”
Thank you for this post and sharing your story. May I share it with the Special Needs staff at my school? They sometimes need a little encouragement and this story will surely brighten their week.
Absolutely, Jody! Special needs teachers and staff members, the ones who truly love what they do and invest themselves in their students, are complete angels and unspoken heroes. God bless them all.
Awesome story! You can still be a proud momma. 🙂
I get it, I really do. My oldest son has autism and is non-verbal (my husband wrote the first children’s book about autism and there is an updated version of it which came out in 2011) and *aged out* when we was 21 (the *aged out* age is now is 22). My middle boy graduated from high school the same year so we decided to have Russell go through the ceremony too….and had a huge, HUGE party for both of them following next week. The whole thing was so bittersweet….the one kid, going off to their father’s (and grandfather’s) Alma Mater and the other, being placed on an adult program *wait list*…and with our state, well, you know our state!
Am so happy for your family……and since your son made the decision and TOLD you he would be going through the ceremony for you, it’s doubly great. Hope his party rocks!
Bittersweet is the perfect word, Marie! It’s a crime the way states cut funding for those who need it most. All the best to you and your boys. Thanks for writing!
Great story! Congratulations on your son’s graduation! 🙂
Thank you, Letty! Thanks for writing.
This is a most powerful story of a young man coming into his own. He is awesome, and YOU are amazing. Thank you for sharing.
You’re an awesome mom to let your son decide. If it makes him uncomfortble, don’t do it! At the party you could hand him the diploma and give a loving mother’s speech of how proud you are of him…I’m proud of you Barbara!
Loved the article Barb. What I love even more was that your son was able to articulate his feelings about the graduation. That is huge! I think it is wonderful how you empowered him and let the choice be his. You are an inspirational mother!
Thank you, Chris! Coming from you, that means a lot. I’ve seen you in action and you’re no slouch in the mothering department! 🙂 Thanks so much for writing.
What a wonderful post. Great going son #4 and great mom for picking up on all his cues.