School's Out

ONE OF THE THINGS I MISS MOST about being a schoolboy is getting out of school for the summer.

dragging main somewhere

To quote Mr. Alice Cooper (“Is he still alive?” you might be asking. Yes, yes he is. In fact you can catch him in concert August 19 in Oklahoma City.):

No more pencils
No more books
No more teacher’s dirty looks

Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not go back at all

School’s out forever
School’s out for summer
School’s out with fever
School’s out completely

The summer of 1969 was a long time ago, but still I remember the end of my senior year. I remember prom, baccalaureate, graduation and the summer. I remember feeling like the king of the world in a Donald Trump sort of arrogant way. I remember getting out of high school as having a certain finality to it, even though I would be starting college classes in the fall.

I’m a firm believer in the idea of the rhythms of life. Maybe it comes from marching miles and miles of parade routes playing in a drumline. The drumline plays what is called a cadence. It serves as the clock that keeps the band marching with order and as a unit. Without a cadence there would be chaos.

So it’s been a few decades now since I last walked out of a classroom for the summer. But still I seem to hear a distant drum signaling a change in the air. Just to restore the rhythm, maybe I’ll take a vacation day next Monday and sleep in. I won’t worry about homework or grades. I won’t diagram any sentences or dissect any frogs. I certainly won’t be wearing shoes or tucking in my shirttail. And I’ll chew gum anywhere and any time I want to.

In a few days, me and my Amazing-Missus will be going to a Beach Boys concert. Maybe they’ll do their happy little school’s out song, Dance Dance Dance:

After six hours of school I’ve had enough for the day
I hit the radio dial and turn it up all the way

I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beat’s really hot) right on the spot
(Dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beat’s really hot

When I feel put down I try to shake it off quick
With my chick by my side the radio does the trick

I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beat’s really hot)

No question, if there is a soundtrack for summer fun it would be written by the Beach Boys. Maybe after the concert we’ll go out for a milkshake, maybe we’ll drag a Main street somewhere, maybe we’ll even go parking, and maybe we’ll stay out past midnight—probably not, but we could if we wanted to; because school’s out for summer.

Going Back

Are you one of those who experiences dread with “Back to _________(fill in the blank).” 

If you’ve checked social media in the past few weeks, you’ve seen adorable photos of adorable kids (and maybe an adorable adult or two) in adorable new outfits holding their little chalkboards telling you what grade they will be in as they head Back To School.

Pictured above: Karlee (Grand-Girl #1) and Aaron.

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I love Fridays! And I like my job, but I still dread going Back To Work on Monday. I enjoy holiday food feasts, even though the holiday passes and it’s Back To The Diet.

Without a doubt though, when it comes to the dread of going Back, nothing compares to School—for me. Thankfully I haven’t had to go Back To School for several years. Looking back, I’m not sure why it seemed so dreadful.

Maybe it was that summers were so much fun for me. Fortunately I grew up in the day before mosquitoes came from the West Nile and ticks didn’t bring the fever back from the Rocky Mountains with them. The guy selling sub sandwiches wasn’t a pervert and the guy driving the ice cream truck wasn’t a meth addict. We left the house first thing in the morning and didn’t return home until we had a jar full of fireflys after nightfall.

Maybe it was that Back To School brought such pressure. I knew I would be expected to “work well with others,” and “work up to my potential.” I’m sure my parents held some hope that this year might be better. There was so much to remember: locker combinations, homework, teacher’s rules, bus number, which was the “up” staircase and which was the “down” staircase. Does this teacher want homework folded vertically or horizontally? Does the name go in the upper right hand corner, do we include the teacher’s name. I must remember not to ask obvious questions, like: “Why should I write your name on my paper Mrs. Teacher, don’t you know it?”

Maybe it wasn’t so bad afterall. Maybe going Back is a good thing. Maybe it’s good to have something to go back to. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I dread retirement. What will I do on Monday morning? Maybe if I ever do retire, sometime around mid-August, I’ll go to the store and buy myself a new pair of jeans and a couple of #2 pencils, some glue and an eraser just for old times sake. Maybe I’ll write something on a sheet of notebook paper and then I’ll fold any way I want to, or maybe I won’t fold it at all. What is there about Back To School time that brings out the obnoxious, rebellious little devil in me?