No Regrets

Yesterday, I attended my oldest son’s Fifth Grade Recognition, his school’s version of the graduation ceremony celebrating the end of elementary school and the move to middle school.

I didn’t have a similar ceremony when I graduated from fifth grade in Dallas. In fact, my son's Fifth Grade Recognition was my first elementary school graduation that I’ve experienced. And I’m glad I won’t have to sit through another one until three years from now when my youngest “graduates” from the same school.

Of course, I jest.

There was something about seeing a hundred or so tweens awkwardly walk across the school gymnasium to pick up their paper certificates from the principal that was, well, nostalgic and sweet.

This is my son’s second year at this elementary school, having made the switch from private to public school during the height of the pandemic. Believe it or not, this was my first time inside my son’s school for any time longer than a quick trip to drop off a book or a laptop that he had forgotten at home.

The pandemic prevented many people from visiting the school regularly. But my son considering me “cringe” has a lot to do with not visiting the school, too. (Little does he know that calling me “cringe” makes me want to be “cringier” to him.)

Though I had blocked the time off on my calendar, I didn’t plan to attend the Fifth Grade Recognition. My son didn’t want either his mother or me to attend. My oldest is low key and doesn’t like attention. And we respect that.

But then, out of the blue on Monday night, he asked if we could attend. And, of course, we said we would. And I’m glad we did.

There was no guest speaker at the Fifth Grade Recognition. But the principal made a speech. In her speech to the soon-to-be middle schoolers, she referenced a college commencement address that George Saunders gave to Syracuse University’s Class of 2013.

In Saunders’ speech, as told by the principal, the American writer and author of Lincoln in the Bardo. discussed what he regrets most. He listed a whole series of potentially regrettable acts that, he said, weren’t regrettable.

But what did Saunders regret? In his words: “What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness.”

The principal started adlibbing the remaining of Saunders’ speech—which is good because the kids appeared to be getting restless. But the main point had already been made by the principal—be kind. And don’t regret being kind.

Don’t regret what you could have done. Don’t think back and say, “Oh, I wish I was nicer to [insert name here]” or “Darn, I wish I could have done [insert activity].”

What one takes away from this college-commencement-address-turned-elementary-graduation-speech depends on one’s point of view and, probably, age. Is it “be kind”? Or is it “don’t have regrets”?

I say, “don’t have regrets.” I’m glad I did not regret missing my son’s Fifth Grade Recognition. I mean, I don’t necessarily want to sit through one again soon, but seeing my son smile and wave to his parents was worth the hour-long ceremony.

So, as you’re spending this summer studying for the bar exam, don’t have regrets. Don’t say to yourself, “I wish I would’ve completed more essays,” or “I wish I would’ve been more committed to the BARBRI program,” or “I wish I would’ve [insert your own activity.]”