Reflections on Waldorf’s first graduating class
––By Ms. Nadia Amad, Dean of Students
EDITOR’S NOTE: Earlier this summer, in the weeks before our first graduating class crossed the stage at Waldorf’s first official graduation ceremony, the Class of 2026 made one final journey through the school that had grown up with them. Now, as those graduates begin their next chapters and Waldorf prepares to welcome students back for 2026–2027, we return to Dean of Students Ms. Nadia Amad’s reflection on that day.
Earlier this summer, the sounds of drums, cheers, and celebration echoed through the Waldorf School of Jordan as a traditional zaffeh troupe led our first graduating class on one final walk around campus.
True to our school’s philosophy, this was never meant to be a celebration for the seniors alone. It belonged to the entire community.
Led by the troupe, our graduates wound their way through every corner of the school, classroom by classroom, greeted by applause, laughter, high-fives, and more than a few emotional smiles. Even our youngest KG students joined the festivities, eager to celebrate the older students they had admired for years.
The message was unmistakable: here we are, one and all—Waldorf through and through.
When I think back to that morning, I am once again in the Prep classroom, helping with the final touches. A tie needs straightening. A robe needs adjusting. A cap refuses to cooperate. The room hums with excitement.
FLASH.
It is only a few weeks into our school’s first year, and Eddy is a well-mannered fourth grader, faithfully holding his younger sister’s hand as he escorts her to and from her classroom each day.
FLASH.
It is the eve of an Amman Model United Nations conference, and Lisa is visibly trembling in her seat. Then, suddenly, she stands, walks to the podium, and delivers the first of what will become many astonishingly eloquent speeches.
She finds her voice.
I lose mine.
FLASH.
It is the final afternoon of our first Waldorf Art Week exhibition at the MMAG. Naya seems even quieter than usual. The Waldorf band is about to perform, and she is the lead singer.
I glance away for only a moment before an impossibly beautiful voice fills the gallery and instantly silences the crowd.
I turn back.
Of course. There she is.
FLASH.
FLASH.
FLASH.
Dozens more moments arrive all at once.
A science fair. A field trip. A performance. A difficult day overcome. A victory nobody saw coming.
A hundred tiny moments that somehow became eight years.
I quietly step out of the room as those memories rush past, unfolding both slowly and all at once.
Who are these remarkable young adults chatting excitedly beside me?
And why are their younger selves—the versions only I seem able to see—still wearing oversized uniforms, carrying art projects, nervously preparing speeches, and racing across the playground?
But I know the answer.
I am standing in the presence of giants.
Not future giants. Present ones.
Young men and women of courage, kindness, curiosity, determination, and hope. And as proud as I am of everything they have already accomplished, I find myself even more excited by everything that still lies ahead.
That morning, they completed their long walk around campus. A few weeks later, they crossed another stage and formally became the Waldorf School of Jordan’s first alumni.
Since then, summer has moved quickly. Graduation robes have been put away. Photographs have become keepsakes. University plans have begun turning into real departures and new beginnings. The campus grew quiet for a time, and now it is slowly beginning to stir again.
In only a few weeks, the gates will reopen for a new school year.
A new senior class will begin its final year. Younger students who lined the hallways during the Graduation Walk will return a little taller. Some will still remember the drums, the cheers, the robes, and the high-fives. Some may already be imagining the day when they will make that same walk themselves.
The Class of 2026 will no longer be sitting in our classrooms. Their absence will be felt. But so will their presence—in the traditions they helped begin, the courage they modeled, the friendships they formed, and the younger students who watched them and learned what growing up at Waldorf might look like.
Buildings matter. Programs matter. Achievements matter.
But a school’s truest measure is found in the growth of the young people who pass through it: in the talents they discover, the challenges they overcome, the confidence they gain, and the people they become.
Eight years ago, these students arrived as children.
They leave us as giants.
This may be the end of their journey at Waldorf. But it is only the beginning of everything else.
And in a few weeks, when the gates open and the hallways fill once more, the next long walk will quietly begin.
