And this is the week it will happen.
Tonight, we finished YB11. Done. Shipped. Gone. It is there, awaiting retrieval from Pam's ftp site, and then she will process and send page proofs. In the meantime, we have, oh, 150 pages of proofs to return, and that will happen this week.
I have a newspaper to finish, a teaching certificate to renew, and classes to plan and teach. It sounds so simple by comparison to finishing a 304-page yearbook. The history of 2011 at Deep Run High School.
If you've never done a yearbook, you have no idea what is involved in the planning and the doing. Even my editors don't know what all is involved in the doing, though they have conceived and designed, written and edited, stayed long and worked hard, they have no clue what is necessary to make it possible for them to orchestrate an award-winning product.
Sometimes I wonder if I even know - and I've done seven of them now.
Today, for example, I hand-delivered two ads (tributes of students who died this year) to adults who will be the couriers ... messengers, to the grandmother of one child, to the parents of another. These pages may be the last time their child will be memorialized, remembered in print - with pictures taken of them and/or words they spoke or wrote before they died. These young men who died way before their time have become my responsibility now, and I needed to ensure that these tributes were worthy.
This morning during my planning time I cleaned up and made meaningful these tributes. I didn't know either of the boys personally, but I have processed what others have told me about them - researched, studied the words and the pictures, talked to the people at my school who loved them, who were their friends, their teachers and aides, friends of their parents or just people at my school who felt compassion for these boys.
Robert was a Nascar fan. I know Nascar from my time with Linwood, a Nascar fan (and former fiance of mine), so I know what they like. They like black and white checkered flags, and that needed to be in Robert's tribute. He died in a hospital from a body that could not withstand the disabilities he had been given, but he went to RIR and met his favorite Nascar driver, and that needed to be conveyed.
Luigi died of a drug overdose, a senior who became an integral part of the Deep Run's class of 2011 - when 508 seniors (plus or minus) stood together on Feb. 7, 2011 in the senior courtyard and raised their hands in the shape of a heart to the heavens two days after Luigi died. That tribute in the yearbook needed to be clear: an azure-blue sky with clouds needed to be that background - which occurred to me driving home last night after reviewing Luigi's "senior ad." It is there now.
These tasks are necessary for a good yearbook adviser to follow through with. I did that today. I found Luigi's best friend and showed him the ad. I delivered the proof to our attendance secretary who will take it to Luigi's parents this weekend. I delivered Robert's ad to his teachers and instructional aides who loved him and made his life better in those last few months that he spent in the children's hospital. These adults and students loved the ads/tributes. They were moved and so was I.
When all is said and done with each yearbook, I know how it happened. How the history of that year was reflected in that book - from the staff and their leadership team's conception of the theme and how it was implemented; the events and people who inspired and brought the theme to life. From the trials and tribulations along the way - the successes and the failures, the proverbial towel thrown in the air when I gave up trying to motivate the staff and move the book along on the course I knew it needed to take it to an award-winning level.
There comes a time that a good adviser must remove herself from the creation and let it take it's course. That is really hard to do when you know it can be so much better than it is, but it is NOT yours. It belongs to them. To the staff. To the school. They are all responsible for the content of their own history. Some of the details must be managed with kid gloves, others must be left to the staff to fly or flounder. They own it.
Then we wait with patient expectation and pray that the work we've done was enough.
And when that happens, the adviser gets her life back.
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