summer's cicadas signaled school

They begin their metallic, syncopated buzzing in summer's mid-afternoon heat. Seeming to join in chorus, the buzzing strengthens and rises, then dissipates. The cicadas of summer.

Just one week into July, I'm already hearing them regularly. But they seem to belong to mid-August, of summer gone stale and autumn approaching. I also think of back-to-school shopping as a girl: new leather shoes, new skirts and blouses and socks. Fresh pencils and clean paper. A lunchbox. For a time, I was excited about the start of school.

But as that first day drew near and the dry, crunchy grass poked my bare feet, a dread rose in my chest. I really disliked school with its monotonous structure and missing freedom and creativity. We walked the halls in lines, silence a must. Lunch at the appointed time and never on a blanket in the sunshine. Math. Science. It simply bored me to tears.

I hope my grandchildren like their schooling and can marvel, unhindered, at the cicadas' chorus.

school's out!

School's wrapping up if you hadn't noticed.

Friends on facebook, moms and teachers, fellow bloggers ...

all so ready for summer.

One friend said, "I'm tired of being the homework Nazi."

How I used to relate to that one!

I remember my own last days of school as well as my children's.

They tumbled off the bus for the last time, a paper grocery sack under one arm.

It held the broken pencils, half erasers, and crumpled spelling tests from a now-clean desk back at school. On the other arm, a scuffed-up book bag and maybe a droopy marigold planted in a Dixie cup.

The last day of school was always hot

and my children's faces were flushed with damp bangs clinging to their foreheads.

But across that face was the biggest grin of the year.

A smile that said "summer, here I come!"

"I can't wait to go to the pool,

 play baseball, ride bikes, play hockey in the street when mom's not looking,

sell lemonade, play City (my kids can tell you about it),

go to church or scout camp, then forget all the lessons and fight with my brother,

sleep in the backyard, stay up late enough to see fireflies,

play bickerball in the front yard, read books in the hammock,

and GO TO FIRESIDE!" (Our favorite place in northern Michigan.)

Oh, I know that the paradigm of having summers off doesn't fit our non-agricultural lives anymore.

But I can't imagine kids missing out on the lazy days at home,

where sandwiches and mom's homemade popsicles made for a fun lunch on the porch,

or a few weeks with siblings made you wish for school to start. 

Yay, summer!

two brothers off to Boy Scout camp

arise!

It's 8 a.m. As I type, I hear a clang-clang-clanging, like church bells on a wedding day. It's coming from Katie's room and I know it's her iPod alarm trying to wake her and drag herself to meet the day.

It could be a rough go. I went to bed at 11:00 and she was quietly working at her desk. This morning I found the remains of popcorn in the kitchen, so I know she was up way, WAY late, racing to the finish line of her summer online course, all due TODAY. The other night, as I stood at her desk, she looked up at me and said, "what are you going to do with me, Mom?" Meaning, at 21, she's beginning to get that being her mother hasn't always been crumpets and tea.

Anyway, sleep and kids. Why do they so confound us? As newborns, they shock our sleep patterns by having none of their own. Up at midnight, three and six to feed. Sleep all morning. And a different pattern the next night.

As toddlers they awake with the birds, demanding Cheerios and juice, and we rejoice the day they give us 15 minutes of extra sleep by reaching the Cheerios on their own.

Once kids start school, they instantly become more lethargic in the morning. Three of my four children were utterly slothful. Uncombed hair, unbrushed teeth, and forgotten lunches all characterized mornings in our house. We once had a houseguest (father of two) who sat at our kitchen table on a school morning in the midst of our tornado. "Is it like this every morning?" he asked.

By high school it gets ugly. Most all teenagers are nocturnal. In their complete stupidity, high school authorities set the start of the school day as early as possible. One son would run to the car, shoes and bagel in hand, because he was so late. Differences in sibling readiness were the worst. For four straight years, a battle would rage every morning between siblings: one punctual, one tardy. (You know who you are!) We even received a letter from the school about one of our kids, threatening involvement of children's services for truancy. (ie, too many tardies.)

June 2008 couldn't come soon enough. No more school mornings!

Proverbs 31:28 says "Her children arise and call her blessed." By the end of the school years, I was just thankful if they arose in the morning!

back to school

 

back to school -1993

Goodness, it seems the whole world is starting school today. Oh, how I remember! Fill out reams of forms quadruple times, pack lunches, get haircuts, meet the teachers ahead of time (wouldn't they see them for the next 180 days?) and ... SHOP FOR SCHOOL SUPPLIES. After several years of this maddening exercise with four children clutching their lists and hollering at me, I finally learned to take just one or two children at a time to Wal-mart.

Countless memories of the school years come flooding back as I hear other, younger moms celebrating/lamenting the start of school. My biggest challenge was the homework ... helping/encouraging/monitoring my four little students. Don't miss that.

For years I participated in Moms in Touch, praying with other moms for our kids, their teachers and schools, and for children who have no one to pray for them. A powerful experience.

Today my son Dan begins his fourth year teaching fourth grade. He's in a new school with new co-workers, new students and schedule. We helped him set up his bright and roomy classroom. I hope and pray he and his students have a fantastic year. But I'm thankful I don't have to help him with homework!

honor

Last night I was privileged. My neighbor, Annie, asked me to be her sponsor as she was inducted into the National Honor Society. While the induction ceremony was a formality, the sponsors, I believe, represent the many people who invest in the lives of these young people.

Some of them sail through their academics and others have to work very hard to earn the grades and meet the criteria to be admitted to the N.H.S.

In Annie's case, she is an excellent student. She also faced some major challenges in the past year, so this was a special celebration of Annie's hard work and for her friends and family who've supported her.

As I gazed up into the lights of the auditorium, I reflected. Impacting kids isn't a microwave proposition. It's more like crock pot cooking.

Whether you're a parent, scout leader, neighbor or youth pastor, you'll not usually see the fruit of your efforts until many years later, if at all. Think of it this way. You put the ingredients in the crock pot in the morning and won't see the finished product until much later in the day. The day is long and the cooking is slow.

Though good grades are honorable and should be encouraged, I believe children also need to be taught to honor themselves, their family and especially their God. It requires a huge measure of time, patience, prayer, love, energy, wit and winsomeness. Kind of like making sure all the right ingredients are in the crock pot. Then keeping an eye on it til dinnertime.

Congratulations, Annie. May your life speak honor. Always.