Why I Cried in Fifth Grade
People cry for all number of reasons. They could be feeling overjoyed about something they just experienced, or they could be devastated and brought to tears through sadness. In fifth grade, on November 11, 2008, it was neither.
I didn’t know what to feel, or why I was feeling what I was. I was feeling it all and I was overcome and I cried.
In fifth grade, I didn’t really know much about Remembrance Day. I knew that my parents had donated to furnish my jacket with a poppy and that it was to honour soldiers of World Wars that had perished. They died “for my freedom” or “so I could live as I do now,” or something like that. It was customary for school to have an assembly at this time of year and I thought I knew what it was about.
So I went along with it. I tagged along with my friends into the school gym, sat on the floor shoulder-to-shoulder with my classmates and waited for the principal to speak.
I have virtually no recollection of what my principal said. I remember he motioned for someone to turn the lights off, so perhaps he didn’t say anything at all. The lights went out and a video went up.
I watched the video as did my other classmates. Looking back at it now, the video itself is the epitome of mid-2000s cinematography and editing. It likely took a few green screen shots, a camera and some Windows Movie Maker fade effects to create.
But let me say this: I cried during the whole thing. I didn’t just cry, I sobbed.
The strongest memory of this affair comes from my fifth-grade teacher, who promptly ejected me from the assembly and spoke with me outside. As I was still crying, my teacher told me that I shouldn’t be crying during the video, as it was an embarrassment.
“It happened a long time ago. You weren’t there, you don’t know any of them. You can come back inside when you’ve cleaned yourself up and calm down.”
I sat outside the gym, while the video still played. I was crying and I couldn’t stop.
Looking back, I can say for certain that my teacher’s words were abhorrent. The more I think about what transpired, the more I become disgusted with what I experienced and the fact that I believed it. Whether the adult supposed to head my classroom thought it was inappropriate for a male student to cry or hadn’t learned the meaning of Remembrance Day, I will never know.
What I do know now is that my teacher was wrong.
I’ve come to love Remembrance Day particularly for the tears it inspires. I cry because I don’t know what to feel, I cry because I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling. I feel pride in my nation, in those that went before me. I feel terribly sad for their loss. I feel excited for the day ahead, looking forward to the ceremonies that always astound me. The sombre mood that envelops me from the start of the day to the end is merely a cover for my own emotional confusion.
I feel a lot of things on Remembrance Day but I never feel too much.
It happened a long time ago.
Yes, it did.
You weren’t there.
I wasn’t, no.
You don’t know any of them.
No. I do know them.
One of the reasons I still love Kelly’s tribute video is that it shows the faces of those who serve and have served Canada. For every fatality and casualty, there was a person, a family behind that name. That is someone, like you or me.
Yes. That is someone. With Remembrance Day, they’re still here.
I encourage anyone who reads this to take a trip on the 11th to their local cenotaph or memorial to experience Remembrance Day in full. I write this as this year marks the 100th Anniversary of Armistice in the First World War. If now’s not the time to lay a wreath, sing your anthem and appreciate it all, there’s no other time.
I didn’t blink when I was asked to recite In Flanders Fields during my tenth grade Canadian History class. I taught students from my secondary school about our alumni who served. I’ve made the walk to Kingston’s Remembrance Day Service in City Park every year I’ve been in university.
One thing remains in common with all the services, parades, discussions and experiences. I still cry. I continue to be confused about all the feelings I have on that day. I don’t expect that to end.
Don’t try to calm down. Feel. It’s the least we could do.
