Last Day
Since he didn't need to attend the closing assembly at Gering Junior High today, Levi's last day of seventh grade was yesterday. But, today seemed to be a typical last day of school, sunny and slightly breezy, with sidewalks full of kids walking home from school at the unusual time of 11:30 a.m.
Weather aside, there's something special in the air on the last day. The routines that have been in place for the previous nine months are gone. Kids and teachers alike anticipate summer's arrival, a welcome break from the stress of school, a time to regroup and relax, maybe even take a family vacation. Winter clothes are cast aside for summer attire, even on those inevitable cool, rainy days that are sure to come during the next month or so.
As kids enter their forlorn classrooms on the final day of school, the walls are empty, books have been put away, the garbage cans are overflowing with the leftovers of an eventful school year. The last day, even the last week, is a mere formality, a time for snow cones and celebrations and field trips and picnic lunches in the park. It's time for kids to say goodbye to a well-loved teacher, or maybe one who was barely tolerated. Teachers breathe cumulative sighs of relief that their most challenging students are gone, at least for a few weeks, and cry a few tears over those rare students who will always be remembered for their tenacity and sheer love of learning.
In our community, graduations are no longer a one-time high school event. Now, preschoolers, kindergartners, sixth graders, and sometimes even eighth graders, all celebrate with formal ceremonies of Pomp and Circumstance and certificates of completion.
Today, as I watched the kids skipping down the sidewalks on their way home to SUMMER, I couldn't help but recall my own last days of elementary school. Things haven't really changed that much, after all.
I remember the fifth grade field trip to the Endicott brickyard, where I promptly fainted from the heat, and probably dehydration, and spent most of the morning lying across the back seat of the big, yellow, school bus. I remember the excitement of eating a sack lunch with my classmates in an unfamiliar park. I savored those extended afternoon recesses, sprawling on the rickety old merry-go-round, hair flying in the breeze. I can smell the sweaty pony, brought to school by someone's grandpa so we could each take a short ride, up and down the alley behind Eastward School. I can taste the strawberry Popsicle my teacher, another Mrs. Bauer, brought as a special end-of-the-year treat.
And, I can almost feel the balmy breeze on my face as I walked, skipped, danced home from school on the Last Day.
Weather aside, there's something special in the air on the last day. The routines that have been in place for the previous nine months are gone. Kids and teachers alike anticipate summer's arrival, a welcome break from the stress of school, a time to regroup and relax, maybe even take a family vacation. Winter clothes are cast aside for summer attire, even on those inevitable cool, rainy days that are sure to come during the next month or so.
As kids enter their forlorn classrooms on the final day of school, the walls are empty, books have been put away, the garbage cans are overflowing with the leftovers of an eventful school year. The last day, even the last week, is a mere formality, a time for snow cones and celebrations and field trips and picnic lunches in the park. It's time for kids to say goodbye to a well-loved teacher, or maybe one who was barely tolerated. Teachers breathe cumulative sighs of relief that their most challenging students are gone, at least for a few weeks, and cry a few tears over those rare students who will always be remembered for their tenacity and sheer love of learning.
In our community, graduations are no longer a one-time high school event. Now, preschoolers, kindergartners, sixth graders, and sometimes even eighth graders, all celebrate with formal ceremonies of Pomp and Circumstance and certificates of completion.
Today, as I watched the kids skipping down the sidewalks on their way home to SUMMER, I couldn't help but recall my own last days of elementary school. Things haven't really changed that much, after all.
I remember the fifth grade field trip to the Endicott brickyard, where I promptly fainted from the heat, and probably dehydration, and spent most of the morning lying across the back seat of the big, yellow, school bus. I remember the excitement of eating a sack lunch with my classmates in an unfamiliar park. I savored those extended afternoon recesses, sprawling on the rickety old merry-go-round, hair flying in the breeze. I can smell the sweaty pony, brought to school by someone's grandpa so we could each take a short ride, up and down the alley behind Eastward School. I can taste the strawberry Popsicle my teacher, another Mrs. Bauer, brought as a special end-of-the-year treat.
And, I can almost feel the balmy breeze on my face as I walked, skipped, danced home from school on the Last Day.
Then Jesus said, “Let's go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.”
Mark 6:31a
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