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Reflections At Graduation The big yellow buses reluctantly gave them up like Joeys coming forth from the pouches of mother kangaroos. Not new bom...but very young and innocent. They wiggled out, wide-eyed with anticipation, attired in brightly hued “back-to-school” clothes fresh off the racks of countless stores; their faces scrubbed so clean that they shone like a grandfather’s bald pate. Guardian angels with non-toxic markers took them under their wings, labeled them with bus numbers, and delivered them safely to the protecting arms of their teachers. Once gathered together, they started their trek down strange hallways, following along like ducklings all in a row. In bright rooms with lilliputian furniture and gaily colored decorations, their thirteen year odyssey began. Many have met the challenges of time. Their armor has a dent here and there, but nothing that can’t be hammered out. There is even an occasional spot Of rust... from tears, perhaps, or maybe even sweat. Like Jacks beanstalk, they have shot up toward the sky, transformed into young adults by magic genes instead of magic beans. They have sailed our seas, weathered our storms, mastered our waves, and ridden out our calms. And now we’ll give them back... but not to the big yellow buses that spawned them at our portals so many years ago. We’ll give them to the world... trusting that they are prepared to make a difference. Memories of them will haunt our hearts like friendly ghosts, and we will leave our hallmark on their minds and personalities as surely as fine silver is stamped by the craftsman... an invisible symbol of quality and excellence. Margarita S. Piper
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