Summer School?

I don't remember my mother fretting over whether or not I could write my name before Preschool started, or over how many letters of the alphabet I knew before I even arrived at Kindergarten, or how many seconds my timed math problems were losing as the days into summer ticked away, or if I was reading enough to hit the door of Second Grade running. Being a kid seems so serious from this end of the game. And summer break seems so short.

I went to the BigK today to buy Makenna a sundress for the Fourth (hey, it’s Marysville, we have limited shopping options!). Would you believe they had moved all the summer clothes to the clearance rack in the back and put out the corduroy jackets and jeans? Instead of a sundress we came home with a head start on the school clothes buying frenzy.

Summer ends for them the week of August 21st. I am torn between letting them just be kids or forming my own Summer School Academy to keep their little minds from turning to mush.

But Makenna's seed experiment failed in the early weeks of June – even the plant receiving the water and sun died. Maddie keeps dumping out the water in the rain gage before we get to measure it and record it on our bar graph. And Maya mindlessly scribbles a few lines over her worksheet with a red crayon and announces "I'm done!" and reaches for the next page. On a good day I can get her to reproduce a few lines that looks something like an "M".

So, until a private tutor knocks on our door and offers to educate my children pro bono during the summer break, I’ll just let the School of Life educate them.

• I'll let them play until they drop.
• I’ll read them a book when they sit down long enough to listen.
• I'll cheer with them as we encourage Charlie to take his first steps – soon, I think.
• I'll let them wonder at how it all works when they see the Fourth of July fireworks.
• I’ll try to explain to them the importance of our County’s Day of Independence when Makenna asks why we have the Fourth of July.
• I'll watch them feel the ooze of mud between their little toes.
• I’ll let them listen to the crickets and feel the cool night air enclose them when they "camp out" in the backyard with Daddy.
• I’ll watch them taste fresh summer fruit and vegetables from the Farmers Market in the neighborhood.
• I’ll let them stay up late and try to count the stars in the clear night sky.
• I’ll let them learn to swim by trial and error at the pool.
• I’ll watch them take in the great Smokey Mountains and explain to them who made them and how He made us too, and how the faith of a mustard seed could move those mountains.
• I’ll watch their bare little feet grow out of their flip-flops and into shiny new school shoes and wonder how much longer they’ll call me Mommy.

And perhaps, with the faith of a mustard seed, they’ll actually be ready for school at the end of this all-too-short summer.