As educators (or those who are education-adjacent) many of us are coming together around a culmination of some kind right now. Last week I had the opportunity to see some of my students walk across the stage in cap and gown. Some of them were on the dean’s list, some of them had to retake courses and completed classes with just enough points to pass, and some were in between. I felt moved as I witnessed each student who’d earned their diploma, and at the same time my heart felt tender to see them go, like it always did with my preschoolers.
There is something special about culmination. The people experiencing it know each other by now. The students whose behaviors we didn’t understand at the beginning are at least a little clearer and we’ve figured out some strategies for being in community with them, sometimes having called upon resources outside our team. Of course, we haven’t figured it all out. Sometimes we’re relieved to be approaching a culmination, and that’s ok, too.
I’ve begun to notice that there is often spaciousness that surrounds culmination. As Angela Carolina and I reached the top of Mt. Monadnock with our dear friends last weekend there was a palpable sense of relief as we got a glimpse of the highest peak even though we hadn’t reached it yet. It’s like there’s a “peri-culmination” that surrounds the culmination itself. According to Merriam Webster dictionary the prefix “peri-” means, “All around” “about” “enclosing; surrounding”. I’ve been thinking about this prefix a lot in the context of perimenopause. It’s a huge life transition. It’s uncomfortable, unpredictable, and can feel monstrous at times, but it’s serving a purpose. It’s like my body is facilitating the transition, calling me to be present with it, helping me see and feel that I am the age of my grandmother when she already had multiple grandchildren. This “peri-”ness is what gives us the capacity to hold more than one thing at the same time. I used to think of it as a wrapping-up-kind-of-time but now I see and feel that it is a pausing time. It’s like time slows down. At the end of the year there are toddlers in our infant rooms and rising kindergarteners in our preschool spaces. Their bodies are too big for the furniture and they need more space. Peri-culmination can be uncomfortable. It’s in the discomfort that we may breathe, reflect, and imagine.
In peri-culmination, the next thing hasn’t started yet. We sat at the top of the mountain and enjoyed food with our friends and fellow hikers, not caring about how messy our faces and fingers were or how cool our muscles were getting even though we needed to climb back down. It made me think about how my students might have spent the afternoon on the day of their graduation. Perhaps surrounded by loved ones, their gowns still hanging over their intentionally chosen attire, eating and laughing, and feeling pride and/or humility. Others may have needed to go right to work after the ceremony with a buffer only as small and sweet as the train or car ride.
What is culminating for you right now? Where might you experience the peri-culmination in this experience to breathe, reflect, and imagine?
With love and gratitude,
Lauren
Peri prefix definition: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/peri
You may have noticed that the voice in this post is singular instead of plural. That’s because Angela Carolina and I have decided to take turns writing to the community instead of writing one post together each month. This way we’ll be able to share more about our individual experiences in the context of our collective work. We hope you’ll enjoy getting to know each of us in this way!