She smiled big as she sashayed across the stage, stopping for that long-awaited photo opp, one hand shaking the principal’s, the other gripping her high school diploma. It had been a long journey, but she was finally here, at the Von Braun Center in downtown Huntsville, graduating.

Serina texted me earlier that day, following rehearsal. “I get a silver cord for GPA. 3.8. I win!”

“Yes, Serina,” I thought. “You won big.” That silver cord wasn’t just a sign of academic achievement. It represented so much more.

Serina and her classmates faced challenges in high school that didn’t come close to anything I endured in the 80s. And Serina, along with a number of her peers, also had mental health challenges to contend with. Complicated conditions on their own made worse during the pandemic.

These recent grads were freshmen in March 2020 when the district sent them home for virtual learning due to COVID-19. I remember thinking, “Surely this will last a week. Maybe two.” But the lockdown went on. And on.

Sophomore year wasn’t much better. The lockdown lightened, but students still had a mix of virtual and in-person learning. Kids would go to class, but if a student tested positive for COVID, boom! Mandatory quarantine. Making matters worse, a ransomware attack struck Huntsville City Schools in December 2020, resulting in homework packets that students picked up and returned weekly. There was no online access for weeks.

Some kids rolled with every punch, and some loved online learning (many introverted children, including my youngest, celebrated the solitude). Others, including Serina, felt like they were drowning. Serina had been diagnosed with ADHD and General Anxiety Disorder in fifth grade. She learned to adjust in many ways, and medication helped tremendously, but COVID created a cruel environment for Serina and many of her peers. Her ADHD and Anxiety symptoms flared. Her grades suffered, and her mental health declined.

She found herself separated from the friends she loved and the social activities she craved.

The pandemic stifled her spirit, pulling her away from two key connections: People and horses. She missed time with friends and weekly riding lessons at the barn. Losing the latter may have hurt her most of all. She could still Facetime her friends, but she lost all contact with the horses, which, I see now provided substantial therapeutic benefits to her physical, mental, and emotional well-being. Within a year, everything sputtered and stalled. She was stuck. As I tried yanking her out of her “rut,” I only made everything, including our relationship, worse.

Working from home, I struggled watching her struggle. She’d sleep through online classes. “Get up!” I’d yell, noting that her sister had been upright at her desk, logged into her online classes, since 8:25 am.

I’d look at Serina’s grades on Powerschool, only to find missing assignments and low-scoring test grades. It might have been easier to accept if she weren’t so darn bright.

A gifted artist, she spent more time sketching portraits and playing guitar than she did on US History or Algebra II. She’d catch up in one class only to fall behind in another. Then there was the time she got a 50 on her Latin test. When asked about it, she said, “Oh, I thought it said complete part 1 or 2.” (For those unfamiliar with ADHD, this is a classic example.)

Volleyball was different too. She’d had a very successful sophomore season, despite the COVID-related challenges (wearing masks, for instance). But there was a two-month gap between school and travel ball. By the time club season started, her drive, energy, and performance diminished. Not long into the season, it seemed like her coaches, and her teammates, had given up on her. Even worse, she was giving up on herself.

But I wasn’t giving up on this incredibly funny, talented, and beautiful young woman. Finally it hit me: She wasn’t being “lazy.” She was simply hurting, mentally and emotionally. If only it had been as easy to spot as the flu. Or COVID itself. I couldn’t make anything better. After months of futile effort, I realized she needed help that was beyond anything her dad or I could provide.

We sought mental healthcare, and a new psychiatrist changed her meds. The effects were almost immediate. We got our kid back. She got back on track at school and in the gym.

Fast forward to Friday, May 26, 2023. All the highs and lows of the past four years culminating in this one-and-a-half hour ceremony. I can still see her gliding across the stage, like a newly crowned queen.

She persevered and worked hard to get here. Now an official Grissom grad, Serina is headed to UVA’s College at Wise, a small D2 school northeast of Knoxville. She’ll study English and play volleyball. She’ll have those critical human connections. She might even find horses to ride, and I know she’ll continue creating beautiful works of art and providing impromptu concerts for her new friends and teammates.

During those really hard times, I often tried controlling Serina. She’d get angry, understandably. “Trust me,” she’d say. “I know what I’m doing.” “I’ve got this.”

And that day, at the VBC, when she, along with her 399 fellow grads, triumphantly tossed her tassel from one side of her cap to the other, I realized she was right.

She got through the worst to become her best. With a 3.8 GPA and a silver cord to boot.