As of drafting this at 5 PM on Saturday, I am still coming down from the energy of today’s graduation ceremony. I know it sounds corny, but I love being part of it. As a high school teacher, I want to witness that moment—the culmination of four years of grit. Even if I didn’t have them in class, watching them cross the stage is a once-in-a-lifetime event. I’m honored to be a part of it every year.
But this year was different.
Picking Up the Torch
A close friend and colleague of mine—a fellow Tigers-complainer and my go-to guy for school-year survival—had to retire early this winter due to unforeseen medical issues. He was the one who previously read the names at graduation. When the call went out for volunteers, I decided to pick up the torch for him. Shortly after, “Sparky”—the English teacher who shares my room—volunteered as well.
Our colleagues jokingly refer to us as “office spouses.” While that term usually carries baggage, in our case, it simply describes a level of professional symbiosis. We share a room, handle the mental load of teaching, and provide the logistical support that keeps the days from collapsing. We hold each other up. If we’re in the same building next year and have to share a room again, I’d be happy to do so.
The Leadership Vacuum
At graduation practice, I joked to Sparky, “Check it out, we’re dignitaries this year!” Because we were reading names, we were seated on the main stage with the administration.
Sitting there, looking out at the crowd, I realized something. Throughout this “meat grinder” of a year, I’ve found myself stepping into leadership roles not because I craved the title, but because I saw a vacuum. Leadership is often a vacuum, and people are usually just waiting for someone else to step up first. Whether it’s in the classroom or on that stage, I’ve realized that I don’t fear that vacuum anymore. I’m starting to realize it’s exactly where I’m meant to be. I’m no longer content just to observe the machinery; I’m ready to help steer it.
The Cape and My “Option C”
There is a specific visual hierarchy on a graduation stage. I looked around and noticed the staff members with Master’s degrees wore a distinct cape—a piece of academic regalia that sets them apart. I was up there, participating in the ceremony, reading the names, and doing the work, but I didn’t have the cape.
For years, I was trapped in a binary loop, bouncing back and forth between a Master’s in Education and a Master’s in English Literature. I couldn’t decide which version of “teacher” I wanted to be. The move into administration actually came out of left field for me, but as I sat on that stage, I realized that this is my professional “Option C.”
For a long time, I felt like I had to choose between the passion of the subject matter or the utility of a degree. But this path isn’t about choosing one or the other—it’s about choosing myself. In that moment of seeing the capes on stage, it wasn’t about status or ego. It was an epiphany. I’ve spent the better part of a decade agonizing over graduate school, debating the “what-ifs.” But standing there, I realized with absolute clarity: I want the cape. I am ready to lead.
Moving Toward the Horizon
The ceremony itself, with all its nervous energy and moving parts, reminded me of why I do this. Things are going to unfold exactly the way they are going to, regardless of our nerves. You just have to show up, step into your role, and lead.
I don’t think I’m ready to write a formal vision statement yet. I’m still decompressing, shaking off the “kid hangover,” and letting the dust settle on a chaotic year. But the holding pattern is over. After ten years of back-and-forth, I’ve finally made a decision on my own accord.
The next school year will bring new students to fill the void of the seniors I’m saying goodbye to. But for me, the cycle is shifting. I’m not just a participant in the ceremony anymore; I’m a student of my own future.
I’m coming for that cape
Rebuilding a life takes grit, consistency, and a lot of ‘Option C’ thinking. Whether I’m closing in on 1,000 consecutive days of blogging or reflecting on the decade of work that brought me here, the mission remains the same: No glitz. Just the work. New to the blog? Start your journey here to see the blueprint and the ‘Tricorder’ perspective behind the rebuild.
Today’s post is inspired by the WordPress Daily Prompt. While I’ve taken the topic in my own direction for the Road to 1,000 Days, you can find more responses to today’s prompt HERE.
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The article “Graduation 2026: Pomp, Circumstance, and the Cape I Need to Earn” first appeared in Rebuilding Rob.
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