End of Year

Big milestones at the end of this school year:  Offspring the Second graduates from high school in just over a week, and Offspring the Third finishes middle school.  The schedules these last days are complex, with special events, trips hither and yon, end-of-program performances and shows, particular rules regarding backpacks (don't bring them) and textbooks (turn them in pronto or face a hefty fine), and appearing for a requisite hour even if one is exempt from a high-school exam (silly).  The Offspring are facing these changes with a combination of joy, relief, and angst, and with just a hint of anxiety.  It's a tricky time, but they'll get through it.

Herself has enjoyed seeing Offspring the Second and Offspring the Third's accomplishments in their respective art and theater classes, and finds it heartening to see them interact with their peers in their jovial and warm manners.  Those are the bright spots in these days, for Herself does not particularly care for transitions. Her daily routine is interrupted and reorganized almost beyond recognition. It makes it difficult to accomplish things; she feels at odds and ends.  Even cooking a decent meal seems to be nearly beyond her capabilities at the moment. She is looking forward to the looser, more relaxed structure of summertime.

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Herself remembers one end-of-year season in particular when she was in grade school. She and her family lived up the hill, fewer than a half-dozen houses away from the school building.  She was allowed to walk down to the school and to help her teacher -- she thinks perhaps it was her fourth-grade teacher -- to organize and tidy up after classes were done.  It was blissfully quiet, the empty classroom.

There was no hubbub; there were no classmates whose noise Herself had to tolerate, no peers whom she needed to avoid to keep from being teased.  There were no deadlines, no quizzes.  There was no need to improve her poor penmanship.  There were books and papers and all the accoutrements of elementary learning that Herself loved.  The teacher was kind and spoke in a soft voice, and Herself was able to do what she loves most, even to this day:  be helpful.

Sometimes Herself wishes anew for a quiet day like that.

The elementary school Herself once attended is now a community center.  

She took this picture three years ago when she attended a high-school reunion, and visited her old stomping grounds.