Here’s this week’s Smartmom from the Brooklyn Paper,  The photograph is by Gilian Behar.

The girls were in their prettiest dresses with spaghetti straps and
Lycra. They looked so grown up with their hair done just right: what a
sight to behold.

Some of the boys were in suits; some sported Polo shirts, or simple T-shirts. Many wore dress shirts, ties, even hats.

The
parents, too, were dressed in their finery. They held video cameras
and, with relatives in tow, waited under the scaffolding of John Jay
High School in Park Slope for the doors to open for the PS 321
fifth-grade graduation.

“Congratulations to you,” Mr. Frank
McGarry, PS 321’s beloved music teacher, called out to Smartmom. “This
is your second graduation, right?”

Smartmom explained that she
was just getting a preview for OSFO’s graduation next year. Mr.
McGarry’s daughter is graduating this year.

“We still have one to go,” he said pointing to his son. His wife, Jacqi, also a PS 321 teacher, smiled.

“Are
you practicing for next year?” Ciao Bella, a Third Street neighbor,
asked. Dressed in a pretty dress, she looked suitably frantic.

“Just soaking in the atmosphere,” Smartmom replied as Ciao Bella ran off looking for family and friends.

Smartmom
hadn’t really planned on a being a fly on the graduation wall, but she
just happened to be nearby. Now that’s a lie: Smartmom couldn’t keep
herself away. She was feeling molto nostalgic. It must have been
the end of school party in OSFO’s fourth-grade class that put her in
the elegiac mood.

In OSFO’s classroom, the kids sang
“Wonderful World,” “This Pretty Planet,” and “Stand by Me,” while a
music teacher played an out-of-tune piano.

As you can imagine, it
was tear-city from the get-go. Even before. “You got tissues?” Tall and
Sultry whispered to Smartmom before the kids began. To make matters
even soppier, the kids devised their own cute choreography to go with
the songs. They rocked back and forth, waved their hands and linked
arms.

But it was when the group sang: “Darling, darling stand by
me,” that Smartmom felt a catch in her throat. And the need to cry
moved up her neck, tickled her head and finally released small watery
droplets in her eyes, which she quickly brushed away.

She hoped no one would notice, especially OSFO, who might be embarrassed to see her mom doing such a thing. Publicly.

And
if that wasn’t enough, the teachers presented a 15-minute slide montage
that was no casual tribute to the children of class 4-308. No, no, no.
There were soulful portraits of each and every child, as well as zany
group shots and artful documentation of class projects, trips, and
playground activities.

The beautifully composed and colorful
photographs oozed such a sense of community and camaraderie that
Smartmom knew her daughter was blessed with a special fourth-grade year.

Speaking
afterward, one of the teachers, a gifted rookie, said: “I will probably
remember each and every one of you for the rest of my life.”

This week on the last day of school,
Smartmom shed her annual tears in the backyard at PS 321. It’s
something she’s done for 10 years — ever since 1998, when Teen Spirit
finished first grade, that first year they were in PS 321.

And then in no time at all, it was time for Teen Spirit’s fifth-grade graduation one hot day in June, 2002. At the end of the
ceremony, the entire fifth-grade class sang the words: “Five hundred
twenty five thousand six hundred minutes — how do you measure a year in
a life?” That song from “Rent,” the musical, was a killer.

Smartmom wished she’d had a pair of oversized Miu Miu sunglasses back then.

Well,
in 525,600 minutes, Smartmom will be standing on line waiting to get
into OSFOs fifth-grade graduation. Hepcat will, no doubt, have his
digital camera around his neck. OSFO will be dressed to the nines. Even
Teen Spirit will don a clean white button-down shirt. Manhattan Granny,
Groovy Grandpa, MiMa Cat, Diaper Diva, Ducky and all the rest will all
be there.

Yup, in 525,600 minutes, Smartmom will attend OSFO’s
graduation, her last a parent at PS 321. She can barely stand the
thought. It will, no doubt be especially poignant.

If that 99-cent store was still on Seventh Avenue, she’d clean it out of tissue boxes, that’s for sure.