The End in Sight

It's May 21st as I write this post. My children officially have two and a half days of school left before their year comes to a close. In the 400M run -they are at the point where, regardless of how tired your legs feel, you are sprinting just to get the race over with.


And just like those who are running the last stretch of that horrid, race-from-hell - my children also have reached the point where they have tuned out the voices.

Seriously, no matter how many times I ran that race (at the end of every track meet for four years, thankyouverymuch) inevitably when it was over someone would ask me - did you hear me yelling for you?

My answer was always a very curt and confused, "no...?"

I didn't. I tuned it all out.

And when I watched my son run that same race, I in turn asked him the same question, "Did you hear me yelling for you?"

His answer, likewise, was always, "no." (Let the record show his "no" was less confused sounding and more go-away sounding.)


We don't hear things at that point because every. single. fiber. of our being is focused on just moving forward and reaching the end. In the fastest way possible because going slow only prolongs the agony.

My children (and probably your children, if you've noticed they suddenly hear approximately ZERO of your words) are tuning out everything that doesn't have to do with what-will-it-take-for-me-to-get-my-grades-and-just-be-done-already.

And since I'm not an educator who has any bearing on their last few quizzes, presentations or tests - every word out of my mouth sounds like the teacher from Charlie Brown.

Pure jibberish. They have no idea if I've spoken to them this week or if I've taken a vow of silence.


I get this. I'm old but I'm not so old as to not remember what it was like to JUST BE DONE ALREADY with the classes and the classmates and the teachers and the I DON'T EVEN HAVE ANY PAPER LEFT IN MY NOTEBOOK, JUST LET ME OUT!


Fellow Parents, don't be too hard on them when you've asked them for the third, or sixth, time to take their clean clothes pile to their room. To them it sounded like, "wah wah wah wah, wah wah wah wah WAH."

If you reeeeeally want something done you're going to have to email their teacher and ask them to assign that task as an end-of-the-year project. An at-home final of sorts. Make the teacher promise to withhold their grade until your child gets the laundry taken care of.


But... before you do that, I should also mention that the teachers are also in full-sprint mode. They are also tuning out the crowd and focusing on what it will take to get their final high-fives and fist bumps and watch those children walk out the door the final time so they can pop the champagne.


I mean, I've never actually seen any teachers pop open a bottle of champagne in school - but I imagine it's only the natural way of things.


So... good luck parents. Good luck teachers. Good luck students. Good luck dogs.

(Dogs, your kids will be home soon, only to ignore you from the living room couch while mom still walks you everyday.)


The end is near. You're almost to the finish. I'm standing on the sides yelling like a crazy person, "You can do this!! Go you!"

But wait... You can't hear me anyway.

*Shrug. Guess I'll just go walk the dog.




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