(This blog is a re-post of an amazing post by Liz Ryan on Linkedin. We encourage you to click here to read the full article.)
“Two years ago, my eldest children (boy-girl twins) graduated high school. I remember standing in the lobby outside the auditorium after their last high school concert, waiting for them to join my husband and me. I had kept it together pretty well through the concert, letting at most half a dozen tears fall as I thought about all the recitals, lessons, pool parties, science fairs and other growing-up experiences that were now behind us.
On the wall outside the auditorium hung a framed portrait of the senior class. I studied it as I waited for my two performers to emerge.
Here’s a kid my son played soccer with, back in third grade. This six-foot-plus beanpole over here used to ride his bike with training wheels down our driveway. Looking at 500 kids about to head off to their destinies, I felt the usual mix of pride, joy and sadness at the end of an era – but mostly pride. A father stood next to me, also surveying the faces of the graduating seniors.
“One of these kids yours?” asked the dad. “Two of them,” I said, “this guy up here and this girl, down on the first row.” “What are they going to do in college?” he asked. “They’re both going to study music,” I said. “Oh, no!” exclaimed the dad as he turned and walked away – ” MORE