We’ve had a lot of school-age kids come in the Depot Museum in the last few days, and I knew what that meant — school is out for the summer. Of course I know more teachers now than I do students and they have all been counting down on Facebook with unbridled enthusiasm. When I was a kid I never realized that teachers looked forward to summer break as much as we did, maybe more.
When I was in school, the last day of school was more exciting than Christmas Day. I’ve never been in prison (not that I would tell you if I have) but I’m certain the feeling of taking that final bus ride home of the school year is comparable to being released from the slammer, the big house, the stir, and whatever other names it might be called since I have no idea about that.
I would stare out the bus window and feel totally free as my mind raced with thoughts of swimming, fishing, camping out, and sleeping late. I’d sing along with songs the other kids would be regaling with joy. “School’s out, school’s out, teachers let the monkeys out. No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers’ dirty looks. School days, school days, finished with the golden rule days.”
Oddly enough, I didn’t know until just now when I Googled these lyrics, to make sure I had them right, that this is from an actual song titled “School’s Out” by a fellow named Dan Bern. See, out of school for decades and I’m still learning.
Growing up beside first cousins who were a little older was a blessing. J.W., Roy, and Betty Sue could all drive before I could and they all knew where the best swimming holes and fishing spots were. And combined with me and my two older sisters, Julene and Neenah, we always had plenty of participants for Hide & Seek, Kick the Can and Run and Hide, Red Rover, Flies and Skinners, and a host of other fun games.
Summers always meant something else to me – money. I spent many summer days bailing hay, cleaning chicken houses, and working at potato sheds. But it was the summer when I turned 13 that I got my first “real” job, working on a Coca-Cola truck with Junior Winkles. I was walking in high cotton making $50 per week.
It’s too bad we don’t have this as adults. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all just take off work for the summer? Can you imagine the final drive home before summer break? “No more timeclocks, no more work, because my boss is a big fat jerk.”