Every year I write about summers growing up in Ewing. Those summers are cherished memories for me, with bike rides and swimming and so much more.
This year, I have been remembering what the last days of school were like when I was in grade school. The anticipation, the boredom, the restlessness, the excitement of no more school for two months are also much cherished memories. Especially since I am a grown-up and I work through the summer.
Right around mid-May, the weather would change. It got warmer outside and classrooms got hotter inside. We began to feel the pull of summer vacation. It got harder to concentrate on math, science, geography. Our sights were set on summer freedom that only school kids experience so vividly.
The bright and shiny school shoes that fit so well in September began to pinch in May. They were scuffed and run-down. The formerly crisp uniforms (I went to Incarnation, the Catholic school) were not so crisp now.
The knee-high socks, which cut into the flesh below our knees in September and left a red mark, now had no elastic in them so that we spent a good deal of time hiking them up. Bookbags were often held together by string or tape and the books inside them were well-thumbed and worn. Notebooks had only a few blank pages left, pencils were down to nubs, and lunch boxes were dented.
Teachers and school staff mentally (and eagerly) crossed off each day on the calendar while they planned lessons that would hopefully keep our minds occupied. They were looking forward to their vacation too, even more than we were! End-of-the-school-year activities were eagerly anticipated. The talk at recess centered on what we were going to do during the summer. The evenings were spent outside, riding bikes and playing Kick the Can. There was little homework to be done.
As the month of June ticked by, the school days seemed endless. The weather got hotter and we got more and more fidgety. Very little could hold our attention for long. During the last week of school, we were allowed to bring coloring books and “quiet” toys to amuse ourselves. One of the days during that week was cleaning day. We had to clear out all our stuff and wipe our desks down. To this day, the smell of Pine-Sol still brings back the memory of scrubbing away 10 months of school dirt from those metal desks.
Finally, the last day of school came. It was always a half-day. We went to school empty-handed. The day crawled by until finally we were let loose! Clutching our report cards, which hopefully stated that we were moved up a grade come September, we boarded the buses to freedom!
Once home, uniforms were thrown into the closet, shoes under the bed, and tee shirts, shorts and sneakers were donned. And out the door we went.
Long days of swimming, playing baseball, riding our bikes, eating ice cream, trips down the shore, my brothers’ Little League games, dinner outside on the picnic table, family vacations—this was what we had been waiting for.
School didn’t enter our minds again for another two months. Sometime in August, we were dragged to Young Ages to get school shoes and new uniforms. We had to pick out a bookbag and a lunch box and a pencil case, which we did reluctantly. We dutifully endured these shopping excursions and then exploded out the door again once we were home. Every second of the summer needed to be enjoyed frantically because by August, the calendar became our worst enemy.
But no matter how much we tried to prolong summer, it always ended. And then back to shoes that pinched, stiff uniforms, bookbags full of homework, and another 10 months to be endured until we were set free again.
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