Eternal Summer

Watching Booker over the first half of his summer vacation, it is hard to conclude that public school as it currently exists is anything other than a grim correctional facility where we send children to be restrained and molded into semi-productive drones.



Only now, in contrast to the exuberant bloom of summer, are the afternoon tempests of the school year recognizable for what they were—not merely the symptoms of enervation following a stimulating day, but the understandable reaction to a slow institutional crushing of the spirit.



Please, make no attempt to insist that the lad’s education is at stake. Education? Why, what could be more enriching than a morning picking blueberries on an exurban farm (one of the last not turned into condominia in the boom before the crash). Why this is education, I say: hands in the rich soil, succulent fruit ripening in the blazing sun, and a bucket of hard-earned gains destined for that richest reward, blueberry-lemon tart.


And this, I say, is true recess and recreation: the exhilaration of the season’s brisk baptism beneath its scorching glare. The body itself responds, stretching, rising, yearning.


Until August, that is. Then, at least some of us will begin longing once more for the spirit-crushing institution to open its doors once more....