Closure (05-25-09)

It is fitting, I think, to be writing this article on Memorial Day, and at the conclusion of Alumni Weekend. The last three days have been about reuniting with family, remembering days gone by, and honoring those who have gone before. Today, I pay homage to something that has recently departed, something that has provided such powerful memories for so many. Today, I memorialize Longfellow Middle School.

Friday was the last day of school. Now, for all the last days of school I have experienced, Friday was special. Yes, it had the usual events, the awards ceremony with the grade school, the end of year softball game with the junior high. We played “Bingo For Books” and we ate sack lunches and grilled hotdogs on the school lawn. I signed a multitude of t-shirts and extended wishes for a happy and safe summer to all.

This last day of school, however, held one ceremony I will never forget. At 11:25, the junior high students assembled in a line that stretched up and down the staircases and through both main hallways of Longfellow Middle School. Faculty and staff joined the line and we all held hands, creating an unbroken chain through the school. We had gathered to commemorate the closing of the building and to listen to the final bell.

The voice of Mrs. Keith, the Longfellow Middle School secretary, came over the intercom. She read a prepared statement, a eulogy of sorts, for our beloved school. She noted the symmetrical design, how one side resembled the other, with matching doors, stairways and connecting hallways. “This building reminds us that no matter where you start from, you can always reach your goals,” she read.

She noted how the massive granite structure “rises tall,” just like the spirit of the students who have walked its halls and learned in its classrooms. She praised the adaptability of the building, how it served both as “Memorial High School” and later as “Longfellow Middle School.” Finally, she remembered the students, the thousands of students, who had filled the building and turned it from a building and into a school. “A school is more than the walls,” Mrs. Keith read, “it is the soul and the spirit of the students who gather within the walls.”

School, she reminded us, is just as much about our past as it is about our future. A school has a life of its own, complete with a rich history filled with countless memories. And while this current group of students perhaps doesn’t fully comprehend the importance of their part in the collective history that makes up Longfellow Middle School, I think most of them understood the sadness involved in the closing of such a remarkable chapter in the history and culture of our town.

At the end, Mrs. Keith acknowledged that the students, faculty, and staff will move on to a new school, to start a new tradition in the new Hill City Junior High as the new Hill City Junior High Ringnecks. However, she said, her voice breaking with emotion, we will never forget our beloved Broncos.

That last line, of course, sent many of us to tears, as we stood hand in hand on staircases and in hallways. The moment of silence planned before the final bell was accompanied by the soft sobs and sniffles of students who fully felt the gravity of this solemn occasion. Then the bell rang, long and heavy, evoking feelings of sorrow with the memory of so many bells that had rung before. As soon as the last echo of its mournful peal died within the walls, we applauded and embraced in a last tearful goodbye.

Needless to say, it was a powerful moment, one that I doubt many students will ever forget. For my part, I was just happy to have been part of the ceremony. I think we, as human beings, need ceremonies like these. Especially on weekends like these. We need to visit cemeteries, we need to be with family, we need to remember, to cry, to say hello, and to say goodbye. I think that we as the last students and faculty of Longfellow Middle School, needed our final bell ceremony. We needed a farewell speech, we needed to hold hands in silence, and we needed the drama and the emotion of the final bell. We needed, and we received, closure.

Now, we can move forward, never forgetting our past, but ready, willing, and able to embrace our collective future.