I’ve been reflecting quite a bit on the passage of time, specifically its strange inconsistency. Fellow educators, for example, will understand how the last few weeks of May drag on for months while summer break literally flies by. I turned 50 this year, but I think of myself as being no older than 40 (I can’t possibly have been alive for half a century and look this good!). And my dad died in 2020, but our final conversation still feels like it happened on Wednesday.
Our youngest’s graduation from high school has really got me in a tither. My husband, Doo, and I have had a kid enrolled in the local district every year since 2003. Nearly a Lincoln score! That’s thousands of dollars in book rental fees (most of which have been paid), approximately 120 teachers, 30 Muffins with Moms and Donuts with Dads, six principals and countless missed PTO meetings because they were held during the day when people, myself, included, worked.
And yet, I can recall one particularly rainy Kindy 500 event, a gazillion early-morning Color Guard practices, and several frantic “Mom, you forgot to pick me up” text messages as if they were yesterday. Unbelievably, 20 years’ worth of my family’s experiences have revolved around our schools, for better or worse, ‘til commencement do us part.
Now that I’m at the end, I can honestly admit to thinking “Man, that took forever!” and “How can it be over already?” I am, of course, a little saddened at this turn of events, but also somewhat relieved. Mostly, though, I’m perplexed. For the passage of time indeed harbors a strange inconsistency.