The Last Day
of School
Carolyn J.
Rose
The
last day of high school.
The
seniors have already graduated and gone and many of the others took their
finals in advance and headed off to summer jobs and family vacations or long
days of just hanging out.
The
halls aren’t crammed between classes.
The
classrooms echo with farewells and promises.
Even
the sunlight through the trees seems to have a different shade and slant.
Walking
to the office to turn in my substitute keys, I cast my mind back to the June
days of my teen years when I would count down the hours, the minutes, and even
the seconds.
My
thoughts then would be on the rising level of the water in the pool we scrubbed
and whitewashed on Memorial Day. Fed by a spring now dry, it seemed to take
forever to fill. And it was cold—muscle-numbing, breath-catching, toe-curling
cold. But it represented summer—afternoons of sunbathing, listening to the
static-ridden signal of WMGM from New York City for the hits of the season, and
wondering who might come down the road and dive in.
As
school days dwindled down to the final one, moods shifted. Those we now refer
to as slackers did less and became more disdainful of the educational process.
Those hoping for college scholarships hunched over their notebooks and drilled
with their vocabulary cards. Those with confidence joked. Those freaked out
about finals joked more. Everyone talked about summer plans and speculated
about what teachers would do after the final bell.
Everyone
was aware that all that was familiar and mundane would be behind us in a few
days. When we returned in the fall, there would be a sense of strangeness.
There would be harder subjects to tackle and perhaps a few new teachers or new
classmates. We would find seats in classrooms we may never have entered before,
or get involved in new activities with new friends.
And,
until tedium set in again, we would be energized and somehow renewed.
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