The Last Dance

In my pre-teen years, I would go roller skating almost every weekend. Roller rinks were the last bastions of disco, and I remember that song "The Last Dance" was played over and over. The implication was that the dance was just the beginning -- or the emblem -- of what would be a steamy night to follow. The last dance of Brooklyn Comprehensive is far less passionate, but almost as cheap. Last night, my students were treated to a 45 minute graduation ceremony in which the microphones weren't working and at which a band played that called itself the "Bar Sinisters." (That WAS their name. They are named after the character "Simon Bar Sinister" in the Underdog cartoon. Yup.) As their name would imply, they were over-aged, predominantly white, and dressed like The Blues Brothers. If you've ever wondered what "Pomp and Circumstance" sounds like being picked out on an electric guitar by an amateur musician, I can tell you that it's disgraceful.

Would that the music was the only faux pas of the evening's affair.

For 15 years, our graduations have included representations of African culture. They have also been decorated with balloons and flowers. Our principal always addressed the students directly with inspirational ideas. She would put aside the microphone and just talk to them. She usually told a story about an eagle who was raised to think he was a chicken, until one day an anthropologist who visited the farm lifted him up and said, "You are not a chicken. You are an eagle, king of all birds. Spread your wings and fly." On the third try, the eagle did fly. The parallel to our students was obvious, but it always took their breathe away. After years of being told they couldn't do anything useful and that it was taking too long for them to graduate, someone told them that they were capable of greatness.

On our 16th year, our NEW principal defined the word, "Difficult" as the cornerstone of her speech. In our 17th, she told the students that she loved turtles because they "stick their necks out." I suppose she really admires giraffes.

At my high school graduation, a nobel prize winner spoke. Now, I graduated from the city's premiere science high school. I have never believed however, that the academic quality of the school should dictate the nature of the graduation. And our school has always treasured its graduations because of the tremendous struggles that our students have overcome. Our motto is "To the stars despite the difficulties" -- "Ad Astra Per Aspera." We have Frederick Douglass' famous "If there is no struggle, there is no progress" printed on the backs of our programs. Every year, we give out Frederick Douglass awards to the students with the greatest difficulties. We also have raised money among ourselves for a small scholarship fund.

Not this year. This year there were no awards. There was no celebration. Short speeches which could not be heard were made quickly. Then there was cake and the principal and assistant principal dancing cheek to cheek to the kind of blues music you can hear performed at your neighborhood bar by men with day jobs who imagine themselves eternal boys.

Our program, by the way, did not list the names of the teachers and little mention of us was made throughout the evening. It was as if we were all guests at the funeral of distant cousins, when actually, we were at our own wakes.

In the din of all this, a school and a dream were being softly crushed. One teacher called it a slow suffocation.

The students who graduated last night deserved respect. They deserved music, a working sound system and a principal who believed in them. Someone willing to stick her own neck out to try to save their school, and if not, to make sure that they and their parents didn't come all the way to school to get 45 minutes of muffled noise and cake.

One postscript. Among the graduates was a student who was nearly turned away by this principal when she was an assistant principal. Apparently, there was a mistake on her records which said she needed supportive services which we do not provide -- and which the student said she had never had. The assistant principal turned her away anyway, telling her there was "Nothing I can do. My hands are tied." A day later the student came back and spoke with our principal. Our principal told the young woman that she would call herformer school to confirm that she had NEVER had these services, and assuming it was true, she could begin classes on Monday. The school told her that the student was telling the truth and that they believed that the mistake occurred because she had a similar name to a student who did receive them. Our former principal CALLED THE STUDENT immediately to make sure she would come on Monday. And, as I said, that student graduated yesterday and will go on to college in the fall.

When you take an extra minute, you can save a life. That's what BCNHS was about.