The End of Summer School

I can't believe it's finally here. Summer school is over. We give the exams to the non-exempts tomorrow and then it's over. But not really.

Then we have to haul a truckload of materials and supplies back to our high school and haul them into our rooms. I've already informed Nik that she's getting up to help. In the 100+ degree heat, it should be good times.

Then we will drag ourselves home and hope for a short nap of exhaustion. Funny thing about those kinds of naps. You never feel refreshed after them. Nope. You just feel like another nap.

And a kid actually told me today that it was "not my job" to call his father when he didn't show up. Are you kidding me? Not my job? So, when I don't call, I'm wrong. Thank you, oh thou wise teen. I am so glad you are enlightened enough to know MY JOB! Hmmm. I guess no one would have called if he'd been in class.

Ah, but I digress.

Speaking of ... summer vacation

Summer vacation. A term that brings school children to near hysteria in anticipation of two months of fun in the sun and not much else. That same term brings parents of said children to tears as they envision a whole two months home alone with their kids. And then there's teachers. Teachers savor the words as they whisper them in the fall, cringe when they mutter them in the long wniter months and boast of them to their non-teaching friends all spring.

When I was younger, much younger, I, too, relished the ideas of hours and hours of nothing to do but devour paperbacks, sip and slurp cold, fruity drinks, and exert no more energy than it takes to move from my stomach to my back on the float in the refreshing pool. In fact, that was not too long ago.

But I've come to question the true meaning of vacation. Since it has a root of "vacate" I'd think it had something to do with leaving something or someone behind, but how can that be fun unless it's your ex? And so if we all live for our vacations, we are vacating our jobs and if we want to vacate our jobs so badly, we must not be very happy at them. Wow, my head began to hurt on that one.

But it's true. Why have we coined the term "going postal"? Because some people REALLY hated their jobs. Bankers can't take the time to explain why you owe them for talking to a live person, cashiers don't even make eye contact as they ask you to open an account with them so you'll give them even more money and teachers have secret countdown to summer vacation lists that begin in August.

I have a suggestion. Let's all take a vacation from being so unhappy at everything and try to just enjoy living for a moment. Visit a hospital for terminally ill children and watch their parents try to eke out as many memories as they can in their limited time. Visit a nursing home and observe the elderly and forgotten as they watch the front door eagerly for a visitor. Volunteer an hour at a school and share some time with children whose parents should never have had kids.

Then ask yourself, do you really need to vacate YOUR life?