Mass

The final days of year six, and for my Grandson many ‘last times’. He goes to the local Catholic school, we’re not Catholic but a percentage of the children who attend aren’t either. It has an inclusive ethos, based on kindness and respect, and that is what shone through this afternoon.

His last Mass in the church he has attended many times with his class mates over the years. This one special because primarily it was for the year six leaver’s.

Its theme, ‘look back with pride and happy memories, but also look forward to more adventures in education’.

The Father had the whole school in his hands, a mixture of formal religion but also an absolute understanding of young people. He asked all the teachers what they had learnt since September, there were a few surprises. My grandson’s teacher said he has learnt to be an artistic director. He has the responsibility of the end of year production, the one of course I’ve heard so much about.

Interestingly there weren’t many other family members in attendance, it’s difficult for working parents, but I wouldn’t have missed this service for the world. I was strangely emotional, my grandson took part in the service reading clearly and confidently – it really only seems five minutes since he started school in reception, and in a few days he’ll be ‘walking on’ to high school.

I arrived a bit early, and with the heat wave firmly back sat in the church garden on a bench in the shade.

Another lady came to join me, white haired and with a twinkle in her eye we soon started chatting. ‘Are you a grandma too?’ I asked her. She chuckled, then replied

“Yes, I’m one of the teacher’s Grandma”

Turns out her Grandson teaches my Grandson.

A common bond shared.

We talked about the transition from primary to ‘big school’ and how it is probably one of the most important things that happen to eleven year olds.

She also said how hard it was for her Grandson to ‘let his class go’ especially as he has taught them for two years.

But that is how life is, there is no option to stand still, change is the only constant and how we grow very much depends on how we embrace new situations.

We enjoyed each others company for a while, until the peace was broken by the chatter of at least two hundred children.

Seeing the whole school arrive on foot for the service – a long snake of uniforms, made me grin. They just kept on coming. All a bit sweaty but everyone with a smile.

The year sixes held hands with their buddies from reception. It was very evident that they had close bonds. It will be a wrench for those going into year one next year alone, but they have been well prepared with support and encouragement from their peers and I have first hand knowledge of that.

The church was full, the singing was joyful, everyone but me seemed to understand the nuance’s of the Catholic service. The children’s behaviour was impeccable, everyone respectful of the surroundings.

It was hot, people could have been grumpy but instead everyone seemed genuinely happy and you could feel it.

I sat next to the other Grandma, both of us glowing with pride, the way us Grandmother’s do, we hope we might even see each other again at the end of term production.

I felt a bit flat this morning, my PT session was a struggle, I realised it wasn’t my body but my brain that wasn’t in the right gear.

Seeing all those young people, all uncomplaining, all celebrating those in year six has really lifted my spirits, in the words of the hymn,

‘From the old we travel to the new’.

The future feels positive in the hands of children.