Bittersweet endings

Jonathan graduated from high school. Because of Covid, density rules or something, they rented out a movie theatre for the ceremony. But the only theatre available was in a city south of Melbourne, about a 45 minute drive away with no traffic.

We took the train and a bus, and it took us 90 minutes to get there.

I admit it was nice to go. Jonathan earned a special award for extracurricular activities: School council, Earth Science Olympiad, even co-founder of the gardening club way back before the pandemic hit, before the school garden space was taken away. 

Tim and I were sitting at the back of the huge theatre, so of course our pictures pretty much involve tiny specs on the huge stage. But here they are anyway for posterity. 

Principal's introduction. 

 

Jonathan.  

The graduating students in Doherty house, including Jonathan, named after the Australian immunologist. 

All the graduates.

All the graduates singing the school song at the end.

Jonathan and friend M after the ceremony.

We took a taxi home. 45 minutes.

A week later, exam results were released for the entire state. Jonathan's overall mark qualified him for another nice award. He and Tim went up to the University of Melbourne to celebrate.

Last year, Jonathan's individual exam scores were the best he could have hoped for. This year, they were lower than he had expected, in all three classes. He still did really well, and he knows he did really well, and when people ask him, he smiles and says he is very happy with his results. And he is. 

But why did they take extra marks off in English? Weren't his essays just as strong as his practice essays? Did his conscious choice not to write with as many five-syllable words as possible (word vomit, it is called) hurt him in the end, even though he knew it was better writing? And if only he had worked faster through the mathematics exam! 

I hate getting back exam results. I hated it for me, and now I get to hate it all over for Jonathan, as I feel like I experience all the pain all over again (probably worse than he does), and there is even less that I can do about it this time through, because it is not my exam! It is his!

So there is a bit of the bitterness, and it's all coming from me. He's happy, and over it already. And life is good. 

What about next year? High school is over. Summer is upon us. 

It looks like the boy will choose to live with us for now, and attend the University of Melbourne. 

In the past, he was considering moving out and attending Australian National University in Canberra, living in the dorms. But it has been a brutal couple of years for students living in dorms. He has decided to weather out what still seems to be an uncertain pandemic future with his family. Again part of me is sad that he won't have that dorm experience (yet). Still, I cannot deny that it will be nice to have him at home.

Me, I chose to live at home in my university days, and I regretted it. There were too many people at home, who didn't understand university schedules, university studying, university social needs. But there aren't all those extra children in Jonathan's home. His mom is not my mom: the elementary school PTA president who completely freaked out when I finally started dating in college and staying out late, and for the first time in my life, age 20, decided I'd better have a curfew. Good times. 

I hope I will not be that mom.

And here we are, at the end of a post that is purported to be all about Jonathan, when in fact again it is really all about me.