As a proud member of the Class of ‘99, to whom Baz Luhrmann’s musical adaptation of columnist Mary Schmich’s “Wear Sunscreen” piece for the Class of ‘97 in the Chicago Tribune was dedicated, it is inevitable that graduation season evokes memories of advice given, taken and ignored.
I first wrote my own answer to Schmich’s column in September 2022, dedicated to the seniors to graduate that year, of which my own son was one. It was published Sept. 10, 2022, as an Ozarks Commons column, titled “A word to the Class of 2023: Remember sunscreen.”
This weekend we are celebrating the graduation of the Class of 2025 from West Plains High School and Missouri State University-West Plains. Later this month, on May 20, my daughter will graduate from Lawrence High School in Kansas, where I grew up.
To say I’m feeling a bit sentimental – nostalgic, even – well, it’s certainly an understatement. I am beaming with pride for my daughter, who will go on to continue her education at Stephens College in Columbia, pursuing a degree in early childhood education. It’s an effort toward which she has already made great strides, having earned her certifications and interned in a childcare center all this last semester.
When she was small, I was one of her preschool teachers. She reached out to me for help with lesson planning, creative classroom management ideas, and last week, on her last day at the childcare center, she asked for one last piece of wisdom.
“Momma,” she texted me. “How do teachers do this?”
“Do what?” I texted back, guessing at the emotional nature of the question but holding my tongue.
“Say goodbye to their kids,” she answered. I was right.
“We cry. A lot.” Every year, without fail.
I’m not a teacher anymore, I left the education field well over a decade ago, but it’s still true. Every year, I watch the newest batch of kids graduate, and I cry. A lot. I cry a little more when it’s my own kids and the friends they grew up with, but that’s not saying much.
I cry when I watch the 4-H and FFA kids, whom I saw show their first steers, pigs and goats at the age of 4 or 5, walk across the stage as beaming young adults with much to be proud of. When the kiddos my friends raised and who think of me as “auntie” take their diplomas in hand and smile. When the children whose stories I know by virtue of the work I do, who have faced more adversity than any child should, overcome their obstacles thanks to a supportive community.
I cry, a lot.
And then, I think about sunscreen.
And so, with apologies once again to Ms. Schmich, I will present, for the benefit of the Class of 2025, some advice to be given, taken or ignored:
- Get involved. Volunteer in your community. Stay late and listen to the music your parents listened to you and laugh at each other for knowing the words, but good-naturedly. Host a clothing drive and serve hot meals to people who need them. Have real conversations with the people you’re with while you’re doing it. People will surprise you.
- Try one new thing this summer. Get a job, if you haven’t. Leave town on your own, if you haven’t. Eat something new and different. Do it before you go to college.
- Go the extra mile. Whatever you’re doing, put your own touch on it and make it special. You’ll be remembered.
- That said, if you’re what some might call a perfectionist, go easy on yourself. Remind yourself that education is all about “progress, not perfection.” You are growing into a better, more informed version of yourself, and if you’re stressing yourself out, it won’t stick.
- Write letters to the editor about your experience as a young adult. Share your story. Help older generations understand your generation better. You can always write to me here at the Quill by emailing me at abbyh@westplainsdailyquill.net or messaging us at @west.plains.daily.quill on Facebook.
- Wear the things that make you feel confident. If that means a suit and tie or a ballgown, or a flannel shirt with ripped jeans, go for it. Be authentically you.
- Remember that adults were once kids, too, just like you — and our memories of our experiences at your age are not all that far away. We just have the added benefit of a few more years of life experience to give us context and perspective. You will absolutely learn your life lessons the way you need to, but don’t totally discount our advice because you think we’re out of touch.
- Go ahead and cringe when your folks say “yeet,” “skibidi” or “issa vibe.” Try to remember that while some of those phrases are unique to your generation, others are rooted in phrases your parents — and even their parents — grew up using. And be grateful that we aren’t still running around calling things “totally radical” and “tubular” and describing the impressiveness of a situation as, “like, whoa, man.”
- Help out with the household chores even before you’re asked, while you still can. No, seriously. Your mom will kiss you for taking out the trash and mopping the floor before you brew the coffee for her in the morning. Which, I know you probably don’t want to admit publicly to enjoying, but, let’s be real. You love it.
- Make time for your younger siblings, if you have them. They love you, even when they act like they don’t. They think the world of you. Make sure you let them know how special they are, too.
- Dance as often as you can, in any place you can.
- Give your teachers (consensually) silly nicknames. They collect them in a drawer, and they’ll still remember you years later. They’ll remember you anyway, but this just gives you both one more delightful story to tell.
- Hold boundaries with your friends. If you’re at a party and you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay. You don’t have to participate, no matter what anyone says. No one has power over you but you, and you deserve to be valued by your friends enough that they won’t feel like they’re making you stay in an uncomfortable situation.
- Similarly, if you are ever, regardless of gender, coerced or forced into a situation where your bodily autonomy is taken from you without your consent, tell someone, regardless of who did it. Don’t keep that to yourself. Odds are you’re not the only one made to feel that way.
- I am reminded of another piece of advice passed on to me my freshman year by my now-departed and beloved civics teacher: “A real lover doesn’t leave marks. Not out of anger, nor out of affection.” It is not necessary to stake a visible claim on another person’s body as your territory, nor is it healthy.
- Listen to your mother. She’s right more often than not.
- Finally, if you take no other advice from me, heed this one thing: Always remember the sunscreen. Trust me.
Congratulations, Class of 2025. You made it!
