No More Teachers, No More Books
Exactly three hours until summer break and I am wrestling with conflicting feelings of excitement for the lazy days and melancholy over the passing of time.
Our youngest is “graduating” Kindergarten and becoming less of a baby everyday. Our daughter is moving on to second grade, which to me is really the start of elementary school (that is the grade that my elementary school started, all those years ago). And our oldest will be entering fourth grade which only makes my mind race to the future, “Only two more years in elementary school; only two more years for them all to ride the bus together…”
My sister wonders where all of this sentimentality comes from. It is definitely not in our DNA but I am hopeless. “Take a knee” my friend Leanne warns at the start of any tear-jerker. Of course she is referring to teammates kneeling on the field to await an injured player’s recovery. In every such moment, inevitably, tears flow from my eyes even as fans clap their hands in celebration (thank god for sunglasses!).
I digress. I know I am not alone in mourning milestones but I am trying my best to celebrate these events–at least for the sake of our children–who, by the way, all seem to be swimming in my sappy gene pool. They really didn’t have a fighting chance since their dad shares it, as well. “What a great school year you’ve had! Look at all you’ve accomplished! We’re going to have such a fun summer! How exciting that you’re going to be in 1st/2nd/4th grade!” If I keep chanting, I will believe.
Follow
