It’s the last day of school and I am filled with such a sense of relief I can hardly describe it. Perhaps it is not only the reduced workload, or the promise of sunshine and warmth, or the break from repetition and routine, but something more personal, something innocent and long-past.
This is one thing I enjoy about working for a school district. Being near children and getting to see through their eyes and feel their wonder at what has become ordinary and every day in adulthood keeps you young. It keeps you optimistic, excited, and hopeful.
For them, there are only good things on the way. There is nothing of obligation or expectation, the stress of future choices,4 or the regret of choices past—or not so constantly, anyway. Hard things are easily let go of and pain is soothed so simply.
Why do we have to grow up so completely? Why did we let things get so complicated and grim?
When I was a kid I had a lot of doom and gloom surrounding me, but all it took to find my wonder again was to get outside, hop on a bike, find a park, and sit in a pool of sun or shade in the grass. The smell of dirt and plant matter, the light and the warmth, the sound of bees and laughter made the world a place of marvels. In those moments, I felt pure and part of it all.