boys and girls of summer
by Hank Brockett
In districts where voters remain steadfast in stonewalling tax increases, you’ll find some rather out-there ideas in school financing. In many cases, this is like telling golfer Phil Mickelson he could beat Tiger Woods if he kept his head down while swinging. On the surface it seems like it might work, but if we only knew ...
One of these ideas, and one that shows up frequently in an aging and cynical population, involves making school a year-round requirement. My fear, though, is that this parental mind game of a threat could gain credibility without even a thought to the inevitable social consequences.
The initial reaction is to dismiss, to laugh off the thought like those in a similar vein - changing the Super Bowl to a Saturday, abolishing Daylight Savings Time, etc. But the summer sunshine stored away in one’s hopes and dreams makes even the most comical suggestions seem like an attack.
Last week’s caller cited evidence that year-round schooling in Wilmington schools would increase capacity and stave off the need for a new school. The caller went on to say that year-round schooling would “prepare the students for the real world.”
This last comment reveals one of the most sadly pathetic mindsets to grace the humble Free Press Newspaper pages, and sometimes I think that’s saying something.
“I’m sorry Billy, you may be 7 years old but do you think you can play with toys while working an office job the rest of your life? Back to that PowerPoint presentation before snacktime!”
For school is, if nothing else, an enabler of the fates. Astronaut? Car salesman? Engineer? Singer? Hey, if you work hard and develop talent, there’s no telling how high the climb. With much-maligned teachers making profound connections each day, a school day becomes full of possibilities.
That effect, though, works on a specific timetable. In school, each month has its role, building toward a last day of school that symbolizes more than it actually means. As children anticipate those sunny days of May and June, the lessons slowly sink in. By the end of the school year, there’s (to use school district terminology) a progression. In other words, these kids reach a goal.
Summer, then, turns into a time of common sense discoveries. Columnist Anna Quidlen wrote one of the best pieces I’ve ever read, in which she argues that children are emotionally stunted in a fast-paced and rigidly scheduled society because they lack the gift of boredom. This may come off as old-fashioned, but I still believe that afternoon adventures, pick-up games and sitting on the porch contain as many lessons as a science fair project.
I shudder to think of all the memories vanquished if my schooling took place year-round. The thoughts seem outrageous now, but hardly the likes of our Sound-off caller. I smile in trying to figure out how walking Elwood’s Jackson Sun Creek seemed like such a great idea, or how well-worn paths cut through the wooded subdivision landscape like ant farm pathways. And all that could pale compared to air conditioned schoolrooms in July and a few weeks off in November?
Maybe this is another example of a mind behind the times. As growth permeates the area and we all grow another year past our teens, could these golden-hued memories be a thing of the past, replaced by the orangish hues of terror warnings and the eerie glow of a computer screen?
In walking the subdivision late last summer, the crickets played a familiar tune. But the paths, well, they’ve grown over. The hill once dubbed the “Screaming Eagle” looked stifled in a blanket of weeds.
New kids have moved on to different pastimes. But every summer I see a few afternoon wheelie-poppers that give me hope. For they aren’t thinking about money or taxpayer burden or even the future. While others crunch the numbers, they dream and wonder on their own.
To deprive them of these lessons isn’t much of a reality at all.