The End of Summer Loving

We have started to buy books and school supplies. It is not the pencil pillows, the liquid highlighters, or the fine point, low odor, dry erase markers that are extraordinary this time of year, but it is the back-to-school sulkiness, impudence, and general malaise that makes us wonder. Our kids’ attitudes are more incredible than are any combination of fancy, expensive gadgets we collect for them. 

Our children, in a word, are angry. They feel cheated by the speed with which their vacation is dissipating. They feel deprived because certain of their fair weather expectations seem as though they will remain unmet. They feel concerned, a bit, as well, about their impending school year.

While the young enjoyed the nights without bedtimes and the days during which they were free to wake at will, it is also the case that they have begun to notice evening slipping in earlier each subsequent week. Although they cooked, biked, made music, babysat, began driving lessons, went to camp, helped neighbors, and otherwise engaged in ordinary teenage activities, especially when they thought my husband and I were not looking, they also spent their summer growing. I’d like to believe that somewhere inside they also spent their summer knowing that their evolution matters to Mom and Dad.

Sure, our offspring acted as though they supposed that their parents failed to notice their accomplishments. They considered that we missed their newfound abilities to: drive in tunnels, reach higher shelves, play more chords, single-handedly mind multiple children, bake new sorts of cookies, and much more. Their role in the family is made more secure by their thinking that their parents did not just merely note their achievements quietly.

It infrequently occurs to the younger crowd that elders recognize their kids’ changes, both good and contrary. Adolescents rarely report that their caregivers are providing appropriate guidance; all we hear is “if teens had a chance to rule the world, life would be better.”

September’s: math and language skills, physical fitness routines, and, to a small degree, recommencing of conforming to peer-approved dress styles, are important. Yet it is July and August’s weeks of amorphic living, of experiential freedom, that rapidly raise our children.

When pondering calculus or the conjugation of verbs, few teens will ask: to “camp out” on a balcony, to try new forms of community service, or to take a “much younger,” i.e. two years their junior, sibling bowling. Our adolescents will cease: to stay up past midnight to play board games, to wake up early to explore new neighborhoods, or to devote long stretches of time, during any part of the day, to crafting weird ceramics.

When summer fades, so, too, does our youngsters’ willingness to test drive wit or to intentionality regressive to juvenile stupidity; there’s no time for such adventures.

“Summer loving,” for the high school set, is about self- development. Summer’s joy means having the resources to go a little further with something new.

It’s a pity when school starts again.