For millions of Americans across the country, the great end-of-the-school-year wind down has commenced. That time when two great tides of emotion crest simultaneously: the joy, elation and relief of school almost being out and the absolute freakout that comes when you realize how much there is to do BEFORE it lets out.
It’s in full-effect in my house. We are a family ruled by education. My daughter is a sophomore in high school, my wife is a pre-school teacher and I work at a college. If the dog were capable of learning even the most mundane new tricks, it would be the great quadruple. But for the rest of us, we’re navigating choppy and churning waters.
My school year is already over, so I’m pretty chill in comparison. More of an observer to this fascinating world of epic highs and looming lows as the others try to get free of their educational entanglements. The elaborate calendars listing test dates, pickup times, pre-school graduations and dozens of other school commitments. The motivational messages: “Don’t fail. Dad won’t support you your whole life.” The countdown clocks. The books, binders, worksheets and handouts strewn like a tornado has torn through.
Then there are more unusual things. Like odd crafts and cutout paintings covering every flat surface we have. I don’t know if these are a pre-school project my wife is doing, or a sure sign that someone has gone over the edge and is creating over-sized butterflies and construction paper bumble bees for stress relief.
Just about anything is possible.
Or how our house looks like a cross between a candy store and a bakery. One of the great rewards of being a pre-school teacher is that parents appreciate you. And they show this appreciation by showering you with end-of-the-year goodies. These come in all shapes and sizes. Chocolates. Baked treats. Sometimes a 10-pound bag of sugar. Lots of caffeine. Someone sent home a plant once. Guess they felt like we needed the roughage.
It’s very thoughtful of parents, and caring. BUT, it also shows absolutely no regard for the gluttonous husbands at home who have absolutely no self-control and will spend the entire month eating their way through this mountain of appreciation. Unfortunately, my waist line has been appreciating horizontally.
If May has been a chocolate waist-land for me, my daughter has been enduring a tsunami of tests. High schools love exams, and they are coming fast and furious these days.
Only, it becomes something of an exam for parents, too. We’re tested in our own ways. Like trying to remember ever-shifting schedules that sometimes mean dramatic changes to when a teen must get to school. And after being on the same routine for an entire year, even a change of 5 minutes can wreak havoc on a household.
This means we have to get creative, and sometimes crazy, to adapt and get her to school on time.
One of my favorite movies as a kid was “Cannonball Run.” It starred Burt Reynolds in this 1980s slapstick action flick about an illegal cross-country road race where goofball did anything – and I mean ANYTHING – to win. Speeding. Driving ambulances. Flipping vehicles. Driving on two wheels. Running from the law. The other day I thought for sure I was competing in “Cannonball Run” while trying to get my daughter to school for an exam.
We’re always late, and we left the house screaming and cursing at each other. We dove through windows of the car and tore down the road with papers flying out and long streaks of rubber burned into the driveway. We cut corners, jumped curbs, made wild, screeching turns and came up with on-the-fly shortcuts: “Dad! Quick! Cut through that old lady’s backyard and under the clothesline.”
Obstacles emerged out of nowhere. Like a semi-truck blocking traffic as it tried to back into a parking lot. Or a water main break causing a detour and sending us onto backroads. And then there’s the Holy Grail of all school obstacles. The great drop-off demon himself: the train crossing.
“Cannonball Run” taught me that if you ever get caught by a train when you’re running late (or from the law), the only viable option is obvious: Jump it!
I looked for a vehicle with a strategically-placed ramp, but found nothing and had to wait.
No wonder we’re all stressed out. No wonder we’re all counting down the days and feeling exhausted while dreaming of vacations. There’s light on the horizon – a glimmer of hope in the future – but for now, we’re just trying to keep our heads above water and the windows down for quick getaways. We’re can’t wind down yet because we’re still too wound up. And God forbid, we hear the sound of a train whistle in the distance. Then it’s “Cannonball Run” time again.