| It was the last day of summer school, and as surprising as this may sound, I never wanted it to end. I wasn't one of those super smart and studious students that enrolled in summer school to get ahead in my credits; I'd spent harrowing long hours in Pre-AP Algebra II during the regular school year, hoping to somehow manage a passing grade, and I hadn't exactly jumped for joy at the prospect of round two, Algebra II, the somnambulistic inducing hours in a class full of other denizens like me learning how to factor quadratic equations or graph a parabola. However, when the time came and I could no longer proceed under dilatory measures, I intended to lurch right into school with as much a portentous air about me as if I was one of those supercilious scholars.
As I approached the student entrance, however, I realized that nearly all of my friends had found themselves at Summer school, none of us more or less contemptuous to find the other in the situation at hand, and I saw people from other high schools that I hadn’t seen for a number of years commensurate to my lowest quiz grade, sadly. My hopes were looking up, only five minutes in and things weren’t half as bad as I’d thought they were going to be.
I’d never been to summer school before; it was something I had always associated failure with, so when I found out I’d failed my math course, I was pretty bummed out. Needless to say, going to summer school was the best thing that happened to me that summer, not only because it gave me something to do, but I actually learned the information I needed to know in order to pass that class from a teacher a bit less languid and a lot more helpful. I met a bunch of cool people and felt like I was finally filling the vacuous hole that had grown over the school year from my misunderstanding and stress over the subject.
Everyday after school, instead of hastening on home to do loads of homework, I was free to do whatever I wanted, because my summer school teacher didn’t assign peremptory work for outside of class. This guy I met our first day there started giving me and a few other people rides every afternoon when our four-hour classes were over, and sometimes we’d go hangout afterwards; it felt ineffable seizing the moment like we seemed to do on those summer school after hours.
One day in particular remains in my mind -- the last day of summer school; it was hot enough to make a cat caterwaul, and yet when we were released we all just sort of lingered around outside, not knowing what to do with our prodigal minds and wandering feet, when suddenly, it began to rain -- cataracts of poignant raindrops, never to be forgotten. As the raindrops dropped jauntily on the dry, cracked earth almost everyone scattered frantically in spite of the cool relief of the wet rain on their overheated bodies, and found comfort in their rides home. We, on the contrary, soaked in the rain as it began to pour harder. Dancing in the rain, splashing in the puddles, my vision was blurred by the rush of nature’s own tears, and I received my first kiss in the torrent of cold droplets. The rain showed no signs of letting up, so we all ran to the car to take shelter. As my newfound friend pulled out of the school’s parking lot, I made it a point to silently give thanks for the fortuitous experience of a lifetime.
I figure it wouldn’t be so bad if I happened to fail a class this year, not if summer school is going to be anything like it was last summer, but then again, appalling marks on my transcript can’t be explained away by a turgid collection of words, so I might as well make the most of what is at hand, in that sense, everyday could be a vestige of that memorable summer day. |
