The teachers have been very good about it; talking about second grade, counting down the days, explaining, comforting, trying to hide the tears in their own eyes as they dry the tears of their beloved students. (Don't think I don't know, you two, you love these kids. It's what you do. Thanks.) But, I do sense a melancholy from the boys this year. I think they are beginning to understand what it is like to mourn perhaps; that feeling so sad, yet wistful, tender, sweet and painful. I've known it all my life it seems.
Of course there are celebrations, but there are lasts as well; the last trip across the street to the public library, the last gym class and assembly, the last "trade book," the last page of "wall words," perhaps the last day in class with a cherished friend, the last day with a trouble-maker, the last hug, the last look around in the classrooms that so fully occupied their time and attention. Their last "special," the last card trading frenzy on the bus, the last lost hat, the last page of homework, the last take home folder, the last....
Wait! What?
No more I am Thankful booklets, no more play ideas, no more heartwarming share days, no more mystery items, no more befuddling nonversations. Is this the end of arbitrary backpack finds, magnetic dogs, and coats-of-arms? And what on earth am I going to do on Mother's Day?
No more interviews with ghosts and ghouls:
No more books about insects:
No more whimsical Wednesdays:
No more "squiggle" drawings to look deeply into the souls of these little boys (or just be silly):
No more blog fodder, I'm in trouble.
(Not to worry, I've got a plan: camping. Yep, if I lock'em up in a camper of a rainy afternoon, throw some pens and pencils and crayons at them, I should get some pretty good stuff. I might need some handouts, though.)
Don't worry... those booklets and worksheets keep going util forth grade at least. They just get more legible and more likely to incriminate your parenting style. :)
ReplyDeleteAnd summer provides a whole new type of blog fodder. Bathing suits (and lack thereof), backyard hoses, ice cream trucks, playgrounds and bee stings. Seriously, it's comedy gold.
Choose a camper with a bathroom. Or, actually, it could be funnier if it didn't have a bathroom. But very messy to clean up. Ah, the shit we do for our kids, and the shit they do for us.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie Lola