Preparing for the next hurdle

Matt Pearl

I know it’s a little early for graduation talk, and I certainly don’t want mothers of soon-to-be-graduates getting weepy any earlier than absolutely necessary, but there’s commencement-themed topic on my mind this week.

The traditional processional song for graduations (no, it’s not called nuh, nuh-nuh-nuh, nuh, nuh..), entitled ‘Pomp and Circumstance,’ is a favorite. We expect it. The band plays it, the graduates march into the gym or onto the field and we leave with a sense that a classic ceremony has been upheld for another season.

There is a moment when the fanfare surrounding commencement — pomp —meets the specific occasion of a celebrated day — the circumstance of the moment — and we all tend to agree that a moment in the spotlight is well deserved for our proud graduates.

But it ends there. The pomp is replaced by the mundane, everyday work of our lives. The circumstance migrates from celebration and congratulations to the realities of adulthood, the expectations that will guide grads into their adult lives.

And it’s not an altogether bad thing. Everyone needs to have to come back to earth at certain critical moments of life. Having conquered the arena of secondary education, graduates must embrace the next challenge: college, trade school, apprenticeship, career — whatever it is, holding a high school diploma won’t knock down the next wall towering before us in this life.

In other words, every achievement in life has its own test, and the high school diploma unlocks doors — but we find quickly that doors lead us to doors, doors, and more doors. There is no master key. We must earn our passage into life’s next phase.

We have students in our area who have done wonderful things in their careers: they have distinguished themselves academically, athletically, musically, artistically — no single kid can do everything, but our local schools sure give them the chance to try to expand their horizons.

High school lends them a little share of pomp: ACT scores, state championships, and leadership roles fill the resume of every ambitious student in the land. Many of us are old enough to attest to the fact that, once high school is over and our next journey has begun, our achievements back home don’t mean quite as much as they did.

It’s a tough world. I learned when I attended Missouri Boys State in the summer of 1995 that accomplishments didn’t matter so much when I was in the presence of some 900 other kids who were good at the same things I was. The lessons translated to college and to my careers.

I remembered watching Dustin Ellis jumping hurdles last year, and thinking, “He’s not just the best at jumping the hurdle he’s on, he’s also the best at being ready to jump the next one.” Wow! Talk about a metaphor for the rest of life.

We can only live in the Pomp and Circumstance of the particular moment’s accomplishments. If we rest upon our laurels and celebrate too long, we can expect others who are motivated to continue succeeding to move past us. A success today assures us of only one thing: we can look for a new challenge tomorrow.

But it’s worth it. America thrives upon it. The band plays as we walk in a processional fanfare for a day, and we are likely to find ourselves clawing our way up a mountain the next. The pursuit of happiness is an active challenge, not a passive entitlement. Enjoy your heyday, seniors: then prepare for the work still ahead.