End of School Year

Hermitage has finals for the kids in 9th grade up with an abbreviated schedule and even an extra day off this year for Mary Ellen. This was something new for me when Katie hit 9th grade. Days like this I miss living in West Middlesex when I could walk to everything in town. My senior year though, I did drive some because I could. I allowed Katie to drive her senior year, too, due to her being in Chambers practicing at 7 am and their busy performance schedule.
At WMHS, we didn't have finals like this, we spent the whole day in the non-air conditioned brick building keeping cool with fans and open windows. We read, talked, and probably thought of trouble. One class had a boy set off an M-80 and gave the teacher a literal heart attack. I was in the morning class and we just slept. Goes to prove teenagers get into trouble in the afternoon. This teacher was kind, but not inspiring, maybe clinically depressed. I just know teaching was not her passion.
I'm sending my other baby into school today for an English teacher to edit it. My short story I finished a year ago, edited, rewrote and now am giving up another copy to be examined. I feel shy about this, yet even as I numbered the pages, I really liked what I wrote. I can't keep it hidden in the box. I can see numerous red marks all over it and I desire that, yet, it is part of me. I need to do this. Deep breath.
The end of the school year, I often would have dreams of writing through the summer and even start a page or two on the left over cheap paper tablets the school gave. June holds so much hope of wonderful things to do and come. Soon though, sleeping in and being bored took over. Price is Right was more appealing than using my mind. The pool always beckoned at 1pm, too.
The evenings would be consumed by TV, again. Sometimes, we'd get cleaned up and go shopping, even 20 miles away to the big mall. I loved those evenings as the day cooled, we would put on pants, putting a division through the day. Long summer evenings this time of year inspire one to think one can do anything.
Well, I'm packing up my first born of stories to prepare for a writer's conference later this month. I think it is fitting to do this in June, a month of beginnings.