Many of us are either getting our classrooms ready for students to return or we have already welcomed our new charges to the building. Most if not all of our students are mourning the loss of summer vacation. How do we help them work through their grief? We ask them to think of all the good things they miss about summer vacation by writing an essay. Well, I think turnabout is fair play, so I’m going to pen my own essay about my recently expired summer vacation.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

     When the final bell rang on the last day of school in June, I said good-bye to the principal and my colleagues. I had no lesson plans to write, no reading groups to gather and no meetings to attend. I drove home a free man. Totally free except for one responsibility, the care of my energetic two and a half year old daughter, Hannah. From dawn to dust we would be constant companions.

     And so the summer began with its new routines and schedule. In an attempt to get my little girl out of the house we went for a walk around the small lake near our home. The lake has a walking path around its perimeter with patches of trees almost numbering a forest. But the one spot we like the most along the path is a bridge that takes us over part of the lake. Here congregate the fish, turtles, geese and ducks that populate the lake. And they wait for you to throw food to their eager mouths. Hannah and I offered as much bread as our fridge could spare. After each morsel was tossed to the animals, my little girl would say, “Do it again, Dada!”

     Often in the morning as I coaxed her to eat her breakfast, we sat in the playroom. I took wooden blocks from their container and built towers that reached the sky. To my daughter’s amazement, I would place one of her prized stuffed animals at the top of the precarious tower. After admiring the structure for a brief moment or two I gave Hannah the signal to knock the tower over. This she did with a squeal of delight and we laughed as the hapless stuffed animal came tumbling down. As the last bang of the tower’s wooden pieces died down, my little girl would say, “Do it again, Dada!”

     Then after a long lunch, we headed up stairs with her favored stuffed animals in tow. We placed them on a ledge overlooking the downstairs. Here they would wait their turn to be sent down the banister to the floor below. As Hannah called out the name of each stuffed animal, I held it at the top of the banister. Once released, the stuffed animal raced down, either stopping at the wall or skidding into the kitchen. Laughter echoed through the house as my little girl would say, “Do it again, Dada!”

     Now I’ve returned to work. The principal has welcomed me back and I’ve listened as my friends and colleagues related their adventures over the past two and a half months. Soon the bells will ring in the first session of the new school year. But what I would give to be back at home to hear once again, “Do it again, Dada!”

     Your comments and questions are always welcome. I will reply to every one of them.

          ~Michael <><

Summer Friends