What We Carry Forward
Photo Illustration: Humanizing History Visuals. Photo: "New Orleans Funeral" Photo essay in 1969 Tulane University "Jambalaya", photos by Michael Smith and John Messina., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Welcome to Humanizing History™! Every month, we feature a central theme. Each week, we dive into different areas of focus.
This month’s theme: Rituals and Routines for Times of Transition
This week’s focus: “How to,” recommendations on how to expand what we teach and/or discuss with young people
Today’s edition of Humanizing History™ is about 900 words, an estimated 3-minute read.
The Why for This Week’s Topic
When many people imagine something as significant as a funeral, they may picture a room of quiet reflection. A gathering marked by solemnity. A final goodbye.
But in New Orleans, another tradition developed.
A brass band moves through the streets in ceremonial procession. Musicians play drums and trumpets, as families, friends, and community members walk together. At first, the music is slow and mournful. Later in the procession, it becomes more energetic and celebratory. The event is both a farewell and a tribute.
At first glance, this may seem unexpected. Why accompany grief with brass band jazz? Why transform loss into something that includes sounds to evoke joy?
The answer may lie in a larger human question: What do we want to carry forward after an ending?
This month, we’re exploring why humans pause at moments of transition — why many of us simply don’t move from one chapter of life to the next without some form of recognition.
Last week, we discussed why humans mark endings.
This week, we explore what we carry forward.
Music, Memory, Transition
For centuries, New Orleans has held many cultural histories and traditions. Influences from the African diaspora, the Caribbean, Europe, and Indigenous communities have helped shape a rich, distinct cultural landscape along the gulf.
Within this context, the tradition of the New Orleans jazz funeral procession emerged and evolved over generations.
After the Civil War, Black mutual aid societies and benevolent organizations were formed to support families in navigating challenges such as illness, death, and burial.
Rooted in a multitude of influences — from European military bands to West African traditions of communal remembrance and burial practices — jazz funeral processions became an important part of community life.
Highly structured, the processions were not designed to solely erase grief. Rather, they created space for grief while also honoring the life of the person who had passed on. Through carefully structured musical transitions — drum rolls and bass drum to signal the somber opening, and trumpets to usher in the uptempo phase — the procession moved from mourning toward celebration, acknowledging both loss and remembrance.
When Master Practitioner, Gregg Stafford was asked whether a jazz funeral is meant to mourn a loss or celebrate a life, he simply responded: “It’s both.”
Perhaps that is what makes this tradition so powerful. It creates the space for the duality of transitions. Sadness and gratitude. Endings and beginnings. Loss and continuity.
More Than Goodbye
While various cultures may mark transitions differently, many rituals share a common purpose: they help people identify what remains through change. They help us recognize what we carry forward.
A person may be gone in physical form, but their stories linger.
A school year may end, but friendships endure.
A chapter may close, but lessons emerge.
Humans often carry something forward from moments of transition: a value, a memory, a relationship, or a new understanding of self.
Perhaps this is why rituals matter.
They help transform change into something tangible.
They help us decide what we want to carry into the next chapter.
What Does That Have To Do With Education?
Schools, too, are filled with transitions. A school year ends. A grade level is completed. A program concludes. A class graduates. And behind each of these moments is a similar question: What do we carry forward?
Recently, I worked with a school to design a short advisory experience for middle school students. The program lasted four sessions. Together, we explored culture, identity, and expanding the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, others, and the larger world.
When the final session arrived — during the student’s final week of school — I knew it was important to create a moment of reflection before they took off into summer.
Students were given sticky notes and asked one simple question: What are you carrying forward?
Their responses could reflect ideas from our sessions, their school year, and/or their life beyond the classroom.
Soon, colorful notes covered the chart paper: friendship, effort, time management, confidence, a willingness to try new things, standing up for myself, patience, perseverance, integrity, knowledge, to enjoy and be grateful for what I have, and the ability to take risks.
Then one student wrote: “Leaving middle school is not a goodbye, but a transition.”
A single sentence. Yet it seemed to capture something many rituals are trying to teach us.
The activity took less than ten minutes, but it created something meaningful. We didn’t race toward the final bell. We paused. Reflected. And recognized what mattered to us.
Students identified what they hoped would travel with them into the next chapter.
The exercise reminded us that reflection also has duality: the importance of looking both backward and forward.
A Small Invitation
As this school year comes to a close for many communities — and as new moments of change wait on the horizon — consider creating a small moment of reflection.
Ask students, colleagues, family members, or even yourself:
What am I carrying forward?
What lessons do I want to remember?
What relationship has shaped me?
What value do I hope to cultivate into the next chapter?
Sometimes a simple question can transform an ending into something more meaningful.
Perhaps that is what so many rituals — whether in classrooms, families, or communities — help us do.
Endings tell us something is over. Reflection helps us discover what remains.
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