The Last Day
by Steven Brannum
November 19, 2009
What
can you say about school? Boring? Dreadful? Maybe
not to that extent, but everyone knows that there is something you
would rather be doing than going to school. You go two
hundred and some odd days just to see the very last day of school
and realize that you are free all summer: no more homework,
no more tests, no studying, and no more teachers. But you
have to make it through the last day first.
You walk into school on the last day, and
the air feels lighter and smells cleaner, everyone seems cheerful,
and you know it’s because in a few hours, you are going to be done
for the year. Of course, you are a little antsy and excited,
but at the same time relaxed. You are done stressing over
those life or death tests, done with those late night book reports
and papers, done with it all. The day seems to move smoothly
and quickly, with a few last minute chores to do.
First, you return all your books to their
rightful places… the bookshelves. It’s almost hard to part
with the fifty pound books, but you do it. Next, you are off
to clean out your tiny locker that has been crammed full with a
year’s worth of your life in it. There’s the six month old,
molding chocolate milk, the gym clothes that would make a skunk
scream in terror, your pet fish, Goldie, that you lost at the
beginning of the year. Armful by armful, and a few trash
cans, it eventually gets cleaned out, and you head back to the
classroom in anxiety to wait.
In the classroom, you slowly start to slip
off into a daze. You daydream all day about the summer:
the long days and cool nights, sleeping in, the pool, and the
blistering heat, yet for some reason you’re eager for it. All
of this makes you a little giddy because you know it is so close.
Now, what you are going to do with all this time? Maybe
get a job, possibly unwind in a different country or state, just
enjoy the summer breeze, or do absolutely nothing. And the
best part is that it’s up to you.
Finally the last hour of the day is here
and everything stops. Time just slows down; seconds seem like
minutes; minutes like hours, all because of the anticipation of the
bell ringing. You can hardly stand it. The tension in the
class is so high it hurts to breathe. As every single person
stares at the clock, all you can do is wish the second hand would
move a little bit faster. Your palms start to sweat a little
and you are on the edge of your seat.
And then countdown begins: Five, Four,
Three, Two, One. Ring Ring
