Starting school could be traumatic
For me, it was the worst night of the year.
Most area schools have resumed their educational programs, recalling all the little (and big) kiddies back to the classroom to get their readin’, writin’ and ‘rithmetic and a whole host of other things aimed at preparing them for life in this world.
I dreaded and loathed the last day of summer vacation and that first day of school. Each year it arrived like a bad cold. For some reason, the reality that summer vacations all ended never set in until that last day, that last evening, that last night, when you knew when you crawled into bed on what usually was still a summer’s eve, the next morning would bring a different daylight and the regimentation of school. Get up early, wash, dress in your “school clothes,” plod off to the end of the lane to catch the school bus only to arrive at the end of the journey in a crowded, noisy, freshly polished and disinfected structure where you were trapped for the next eight hours or so.
For three months, I hadn’t exercised my brain on anything tougher than what kind of trouble I was going to get into that day or how much fun I’d have on the family’s annual camping trip or what games I would play, etc.
That all ended as that last vacation day and first school day collided head-on like two steam locomotives.
Back to the books, listening to teachers drone on about some math equation, scientific fact, great author or the reasons for wars and other events that seemed so far removed from my life that it was all I could do not to run screaming from the room.
Not all classes were like that. Some were easy to enjoy: those that paralleled my personal interests, for example. History was one, although I had a few teachers in that field throughout my school days who could have greatly improved their desk-side manner. Let’s face it: some teachers are born and others have to work hard to grab the minds of kids’ whose attention spans are about a nanosecond long. Some also work harder at it than others. So, where one teacher was prepared and interesting, another spoke with a voice so mellow and relaxed that I almost fell asleep during his lectures, and still another let us spend most of the time in class doing our homework.
Yes, I got back into the swing of things after a week or two, into the daily routine. And, as the days naturally shortened and the weather turned colder, it was easier to spend time in the classroom instead of longing to be running about under sunny skies.
Eventually, spring brought the school year’s end, and the last day of each of those dozen years I spent being educated was like escaping from some dusty prison. Summer vacation lay before me like an infinite blank page just waiting for me to mark it any way I wanted.
It’s odd how that feeling never leaves. Even now, anticipating a couple of weeks off from work, I begin thinking about a grocery list of things I want to accomplish. Some are chores that need to be done but others are appealing personal projects.
It’s also peculiar how, once in a while as I enter my office, I’ll catch a whiff of something, a trace odor that brings to mind those school days. Maybe it will be the smell of a book or soapy scent that escapes some memory recess. For just an instant I feel like I’m strolling down the school hallway, heading for class.
Fortunately, the feeling is fleeting. My co-workers might find it a little disconcerting if I plopped down at my desk and asked them what they did on their summer vacation.
After all, that’s really none of my business.
Have a good day.
James Pletcher Jr. is business editor of HeraldStandard.com. He can be reached at 724-439-7571 or by email at Jpletcher@heraldstandard.com.