The end of the school year doesn’t always happen on the last day—like a trip, it ends suddenly. You may be miles from home, or home for years. This year, it ended at about 2:30 on Weds. afternoon—with a week of classes left.
I was leaning over the rail peering down into the library. Our school has a weird design for a supposedly “quiet space”—it is open to the second floor. It’s a really just a wide hall, filled with books and computers and half walls on the first floor—but that is a different story. I was trying to check on U.S. history students, to see if they were re-searching their papers or looking at fancy red sports cars. Most of them were actually working on their social skills. Deep sigh. I heard Andy Boomer behind me.
“There’s Ms Ellis. I’m going to ask her.”
Deep sigh from Thor. “She’s going to tell you that it’s on the sheet, “ he said, sounding quite patient.
“Ms Ellis,” Andy called. “How long should that paper be?”
“It’s on the sheet, Andy,” I replied.
“I told you so,” Thor muttered.
“Okay,” Andy is never daunted. “Thor, do you have the sheet?”
Andy moved on. Thor joined me at the rail. Deep sigh.
“I’m about done with the year,” I said.
“Yeah, me too. We’re not doing anything in class any more, except English. I thought it would be relaxing, you know, but it’s not.”
We contemplated how being slightly bored and compelled to be somewhere is anything but relaxing in silence for a moment, and then , school was done for the year. There was still final tests, papers, projects, the road trip to look at guerilla art, The Senior Prank, graduation, and the Junior Campout to go, but, really, school was done.