Dear Class of 2020,
I am writing to you because I have a much different perspective than anyone else who is praying for you, crying for you and hoping like crazy that this pandemic will magically disappear overnight so we can commence with the celebrations. I have known so many of you since the magical journey began at Richmond Primary School. The newest building in the county to welcome my sweet Noah and all of his friends to begin their formal schooling. Many of you became acquainted at Second Baptist and began to forge friendships and bonds that remain and strengthen even today.
I watched you thrive and wonder and celebrate and explore through classroom parties and field trips and play dates that first amazing year of public school. I knew you were destined for greatness even then. But the new building and engraved walls would be your home for only a year then you transitioned to Washington Street Elementary. This time your adventure morphed along the way and you didn’t even realize it. You went from learning to read to reading to learn in a such a subtle, yet transformative way. At the first third-grade Awards Assembly, I took special note of who was recognized. Remember, I’m an educator in addition to being “Noah’s mom.” I know how the game works. I knew that the very students I was watching receive their paper awards for the Honor Roll recognition would be the very ones continuing to receive awards and accolades year after year. And that very thing has happened. I watched you, I was proud of you and I couldn’t wait to follow your paths to greatness.
Fast forward several years and I became a very real version of Cruella DeVille. Half of me was still Noah’s mom, but only in certain places to certain people in certain circumstances. The other half of me was…gasp…your principal at Rockingham Middle School. As mortifying as that was for Noah, I was elated everyday to go to school. I got to see my only child Every. Single. Day. I could see his friends. You see, again I was taking notes on the people you were becoming. I watched your work, your determination, your compassion — I watched and noticed everything about the Class of 2020 because I knew I would come to know this group pretty intimately. And you never disappointed me. Sure there were middle school bumps in the road, but nothing you couldn’t and didn’t overcome.
I can distinctly remember one Awards Assembly when you were in eighth grade, and I knew my time with you was ending. I got choked up so many times just trying to say your names. With each certificate I could recall moments, laughter, parties, games — movies were playing in my mind. There you were. Those same little third-grade Washington Street School Eagles were now soaring Rockingham Rockets, soon to be Raiders. I could see the sand running out of my own child’s hourglass, and it hurt. I hurt for me, and I hurt for your moms and dads that I had developed friendships with. Our babies were becoming young adults, and we’re not sure how that happened so silently.
I can hardly believe how fast your freshman, sophomore and junior years passed. Looking back, they are a blur. Where was I? Was I paying attention? How did they escape so quickly? So here we are. My relationship with your senior year is one of love and hate. I was so very excited to think about the party planning, the pride I would feel and the excitement of watching your career choices, college decisions or military aspirations unfold. The fledgling birds were about to fly. I knew the Eagles-turned-Raiders were going to be difference makers, and I had a front-row seat. Still Noah’s mom, but still a Richmond County Schools employee with a broad and concerned view of your choices.
I hated to see this year come with as much passion as I anticipated its arrival. This was the swan song. No more soccer, no more Teacher Appreciate Weeks to prepare for, no more spirit weeks, no more school-sponsored field trips, no more paper certificates — how was I going to survive?
By watching you my Eagles and Bumblebees and Bears and Falcons and Tigers and Leopards, I’ll make it. My circle grew beyond Eagles and Rockets, and my life has been so much fuller as a result. You are the kids who are kind and responsible and determined. You are standing on the mountaintop with your Superman shirt revealed ready to sail through a pandemic and seize the next opportunity ahead. I’ve watched you do it before.
So this mom and your moms and your dads and all of those you love are so sad at everything we aren’t doing, but I know you are totally digging the “remote learning” gig at some level. We will celebrate somehow. We will gather somehow. We will see the last set of paper certificates somehow. I’ve waited so many years to see this amazing group of students step out and begin the ultimate adventure to change this world for the better. No virus nor amount of social distance can keep you from that. It will be different, but it will be.
Please know that as Noah’s mom, as Mrs. Jordan from Rohanen Primary and Mineral Springs and as Dr. Jordan from Rockingham Middle School — I love you. I’ve waited for this time for many years, and I’ve know for oh, so long, that you would make me and your families beam with pride as the journey draws to a close. I wish you health and love and happiness and prosperity. Know that I will continue to cheer for you and follow your path no matter how curvy it may be. You’ll get there because you’re strong and determined. I’ll be cheering for each of you no matter where we are. Congratulations Class of 2020.
Below is a photo album of current seniors shared by Dr. Wendy Jordan.
