LDOS

It may be a sign of my age, but I could swear that when I was a kid, I was actively happy on the Last Day of School. I don't mean to say that I laughed, scampered, giggled for no apparent reason, but I am sure that I was pleased with life- contemplating the vast, endless days of summer coming up, when the most demanding thing I would do was to go to the local store, buy a small bag of M&Ms, a small bag of greasy potato chips, and a small bag of stale pretzels -- ah, the classics -- and take the whole bunch to a local park and eat them while reading a paperback novel. It doesn't get any better than this, I'd think -- well, no, okay, I didn't think that, but I was aware of it. My mother didn't work for most of my life at home -- when I was in high school, she did -- so it likely wasn't a big deal for her to figure out what I was going to do for the summer, so long as I stayed out of her way. That was about it.

Well, today is the LDOS for the local Middle School, and my daughter is glum, verging on grumpy. We teased her about being sad that school was over, and got the gratuitous Stare of Death that said it was a good thing she wasn't armed. She tramped around the house and finally made her way to the bus about three minutes early. I've no idea what they do, that last day. I asked -- as I occasionally do -- if this would be the day when the school principal, a very distinguished looking fellow who is always well turned out, silk tie and pocket cloth -- you almost expect a cane -- channeling Fred Astaire -- if this would be the day he wore that silver lame jumpsuit with the clown wig. I think it'd be funny, but apparently I'm not allowed to joke about it. I suspect its more that he is part of her world, so No Parents Need Enter.

It could be that she's thinking about what she wants to do this summer -- ie, sleepover, sleepin, color guard camp -- and how the probability of achieving at least the last one is conditional on how she does in her grades -- though, as it happens, its less conditional than I have led her to believe. It could be that she's thinking about her ailing guinea pig, and how disconcerting it is that she can't fix it with oh, ten or fifteen minutes of sustained effort. It could simply be that she doesn't like change, and next year, she's going to be in a brand new environment. Right now, she's a middle schooler, and its an environment where she Knows the Ropes. It could be just that she likes middle school. I don't know.

But I do know this. As of 1PM, she's outta there.