From what I hear, there was no 200 pound/yellow chiffon/wrestling drama at last week's graduation ceremonies.
(I know, I'm kind of disappointed by that too)
By all accounts it was a fairly dignified affair (though there was a rogue balloon salesman stealing a table).
I didn't attend.
I know, bad of me. It was the first time I've ever missed a graduation. In my defense, I was actually flooded in that night. It was yet another occurrence of flooding here. My street was inundated and not passable. In fact, I came within one inch of getting my new car flooded.
Add to that, the fact that I didn't feel very good, and that last year, I went and most other faculty members weren't there, I just opted out.
The next day, of course, I was busted. I ran into a parent and the assistant principal in the "hall" (well, what will be a hall when one day we get a roof)
"Where were you last night?" The parent asked.
"I was flooded in," I say, embarrassed, even if it was the truth.
"You should have heard it," the assistant principal says.
"The speeches," she goes on. "The valedictorian's and the salutatorian's. They were all about you."
"Yeah," the parent says. "It's like you was God or something."
Immediately, I was grateful I had missed that mortification.