Grandpa’s Preschool Commencement Speech By: Vicki Wentz / Vicki’s Voice Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I want to thank you for inviting me to speak at today’s preschool commencement ceremonies. It’s not often that the grandfather of a graduate - hi there, Charlie! - is asked to expound on such an auspicious occasion (and I will never answer the phone without checking Caller I.D. again). I will be brief, since the entire front row of graduates seems to be squirming, and...uh...I believe one has a hand up and is squirming in a particularly urgent way, Sister Mary Agnes, if you could just... thank you. I’ll make my remarks as short as possible, so that we can get outside and enjoy that beautiful sunshine (and maybe get to the golf course by my teetime). And, after the presentation of diplomas, we’ll retire to the reception area for some delicious Batman and Cinderella cupcakes!...Oh...well, I didn’t know they didn’t know. Sister...settle down, please, children! There are plenty of cupcakes for everyone if we see good behavior. So, back when I was a young boy just about your age...yes, my good man?...no, Justin, there were no dinosaurs back then, ha ha...yes, they had cars, but...yes, I used to have hair, my, my, what a keen and probing mind you have there, Justin! I’d love to have a nice talk with you sometime, but if we don’t move along, someone might eat your cupcake!…Oh, no, don’t cry, Justin, Sister says there are plenty of cupcakes, I was just teasing, ha, ha (yeah, I don’t see YOUR grandfather up here, do you? Nosiree, Justin’s grandfather’s probably on the back nine by now...I’m taking his cupcake!) Anyway, when I was a little boy, there was no such thing as preschool or kindergarten. Why, we didn’t go to school until first grade, when we were all around six years old...what’s that, young fella?... your sister is six?...well, isn’t that nice. So, when I was six and went to the first grade--...you hate your sister?…Oh, no, I don’t think you hate your sister, ha, ha, you love your sister...well, you’ll love your sister much more when you get a little older, ha, ha. (God, please, I will call my annoying sister and her deadbeat husband tonight if you’ll just get me out of here!). Now, where was I? Oh, yes, when I was six years old and went to first grade, I was scared, just as you were on your first day of preschool, right? (Why, why, why a question, you idiot?!)...Oh, you weren’t afraid?...and you, either?...or you?...Okay, I think I get the picture now, settle down! Well, you are all braver children than I was, I guess...no, it’s not nice to call someone “Scaredy-boo-boo Head”, Justin, not if we want those cupcakes, remember, ha, ha? Okay, back to me. So, I was afraid when I went to first grade that day, because I thought maybe I’d have no one to play with...pardon me, little lady?...you play with three friends?...that’s so nice, but--...Teresa, Carrie and Johnny?…Oh, not Johnny, JENNY!…No, boys aren’t stinky, I bet you’ll like them later on, ha, ha (Oh, get a grip, Sister, you get what you pay for). Anyhow, I was a frightened little boy in first grade sure that no one would like me, but the teacher told us each to pick a partner, and when I turned around, there was a little girl with curly blond hair. You know who that was? It was a little girl named Maria. And, when Maria and I grew up, we got married and now Maria is Charlie’s grandmother!…no, Justin, her name isn’t “Mrs. Scaredy-boo-boo Head”, ha, ha (just wait till I see your grandfather, son; he’s going to get a nine-iron wrapped around his neck!). Thank you very much. Vicki Wentz is a writer, teacher and speaker living in North Carolina. Readers may contact her - and order her new children’s book! - by visiting her website at www.vickiwentz.com. 52 May 20<strong>22</strong>
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