Looking for More

This morning, my son graduated from Pre-K.  I wasn’t sure what to expect.  After all, they’re not taking the AP test, moving to another state or something as exciting (or gut wrenching) as that.  I knew it would be cute.  I didn’t know how deeply it would affect me though.

So, there we all were: parents, grandparents and friends – crowded into a small classroom, sitting on kiddie chairs that strained themselves to support us, smart phones ready to snap a cherished memory.  Out march all of the little ones in matching school pride shirts, wearing crowns that they colored before we got there.  The music comes on, and they mime their way through the beginning of a song looking mildly dazed.  Then, their teacher smiles and asks them to sing.  My son – never one to be shy – starts belting out the tune at the top of his lungs.  Evan joins in.  Then Paige.  Then 22 little voices raise together, singing:

“I don’t want this day to end.  We will be happy together tomorrow.  Together tomorrow, my friend.  Tonight when I’m sleeping, I’ll dream of us being together tomorrow, my friend.”

Certificates, ribbons and photos of a year gone by too soon were given to each little one as they smiled for a hundred pictures, their eyes beaming with pride.  Then, they ran off for a few hours of fun, splashing and cupcakes.

Who knew that a Pre-K graduation could mean so much?

While many of these kids will be together in the Fall, some friends are moving on to new schools and new experiences.  That moment – that magic – will never BE again.  Instead, there will be new moments and new magic.  Today will be forgotten by all of the children.  They’ll look at the pictures and the video, and marvel at how little they were.  They may forget their friends’ names, no matter how much they love them today.  How many of your friends do you still have from pre-school, after all?

But the parents will remember.  We will never forget.  The joy on my son’s face, the innocence of those voices.  It’s burned through my skin and onto my heart.  I am teary-eyed thinking of it now.  It is a visceral thing, much deeper than the personal accomplishments I may have achieved in my life. 

It’s a funny thing too.  When you do something big or achieve something yourself, you feel excited, proud and fulfilled.  It’s awesome.  When your child or someone you have mentored with your heart and soul achieves a milestone, it’s something more.  I don’t have a word that captures the feeling I have inside.  It’s just more.  And the kids are right.  I don't want this day to end either.

Whether it’s your child, your friend, your spouse, your team member or your employees that you are mentoring, keep going.  More is great.  More is awesome. It’s better than awesome.  It’s bigger.  More is just…. MORE.