5th/6th grade lunch on the last day of school
Lunch is a time when we all come together
See friends, eat our fill, and talk of the day
A daily routine to which we’re all tethered
But one that now ends as we all go our way
Into Summer Vacation, that double-edged sword
Trips, summer teams, and time with family
You take one more step on your Life game board
And dive headlong into tranquility
Perhaps mindful that in only ten short weeks
You’ll return hopefully wiser, definitely older
With new shoes on your feet, maybe braces on your teeth
New uniform shorts and new backpacks on shoulder
So, today’s lunch is special, the last of the year
Several courses for which you don’t have to study
Goodbyes to some (please hold back the tear)
Maybe plans to hang out every day with your buddy
It’s an ending of sorts if you look at it that way
But more accurately it’s a beginning
This lunch is a launch; you’re blasting off today,
Into next year’s orbit you’re about to go spinning
The countdown’s been happ’ning for some time
The rumblings have been growing stronger
You’ve reached the summit of a year-long climb
And you can’t stay on the launch pad any longer
Goodbye, my friends, enjoy seventh grade space,
Hello, new trainees, arriving soon
Three, two, one…year done…with smiles upon your face
All systems go, reach high, Shoot for the Moon
© Jeff Wilson, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Ready to Rise
To my second 6th grade class on the last day of school
‘You’re a liar,’ the lad said as I tried to explain
How next year would be harder; the teacher’s refrain.
‘Every year you teachers preach untruth!’
I kept my cool and inquired of the youth:
“Those are strong words, the way that you’ve phrased them.
Please explain your accusations, now that you’ve raised them.”
He shrugged, ‘Each of my many school years’ past
My teacher has threatened – Next year will be harder than last –
But it’s not! This year was as easy as any before.
You can’t scare me. I’ll not have it anymore.’
His tantrum subsided; he was done with his speech.
I considered his point; then I endeavored to teach.
“I hear what you’re saying; I did not mean to scare you.
My words are quite simply meant to prepare you.
Perhaps Next year is harder is a bit cliché.
Maybe I can describe it in a different way…
While it’s true the work increases – the academic rigor –
And you have to pursue it with high-minded vigor
That’s not all there is to it, this coming of age
You’re entering adolescence, a tumultuous stage.
Put hormones and growing bones and cell phones in a blender
Mix in identity and a dash of the opposite gender.
Pour it into a mold you’re not sure you’ll fit in…
More responsibility – don’t forget to throw that last bit in.
New teachers with new rules to learn and comply with,
New friends, new decisions to sink or to fly with…
Set to bake at three hundred or maybe more
Staying put on the 3rd or moving up to the 2nd floor.
So, you’re right, I should’ve said what I meant
Next year might not be “harder”, but it will darn sure be different!
And every teacher you’ve had who has prepared you thus far
Who has cajoled, pushed, inspired you to Raise the Bar
Will take pride in your comment – your conversation starter –
That you don’t think any “next” year will be harder.
(Just as an aside – one of those trials by fire –
Pick your words more carefully, too. Don’t call your teacher a liar!)
Now…lest you think “different” means only difficulty ahead,
Let me leave you with these comforting thoughts instead:
Change is coming, it’s true, but there’s no need to race it.
Greet it with a smile, a handshake; embrace it.
Meet the challenge of “different” with jubilant elation.
Congratulations!
You’ve made it one more year.
Enjoy your summer vacation.”
© Jeff Wilson, 2009
‘You’re a liar,’ the lad said as I tried to explain
How next year would be harder; the teacher’s refrain.
‘Every year you teachers preach untruth!’
I kept my cool and inquired of the youth:
“Those are strong words, the way that you’ve phrased them.
Please explain your accusations, now that you’ve raised them.”
He shrugged, ‘Each of my many school years’ past
My teacher has threatened – Next year will be harder than last –
But it’s not! This year was as easy as any before.
You can’t scare me. I’ll not have it anymore.’
His tantrum subsided; he was done with his speech.
I considered his point; then I endeavored to teach.
“I hear what you’re saying; I did not mean to scare you.
My words are quite simply meant to prepare you.
Perhaps Next year is harder is a bit cliché.
Maybe I can describe it in a different way…
While it’s true the work increases – the academic rigor –
And you have to pursue it with high-minded vigor
That’s not all there is to it, this coming of age
You’re entering adolescence, a tumultuous stage.
Put hormones and growing bones and cell phones in a blender
Mix in identity and a dash of the opposite gender.
Pour it into a mold you’re not sure you’ll fit in…
More responsibility – don’t forget to throw that last bit in.
New teachers with new rules to learn and comply with,
New friends, new decisions to sink or to fly with…
Set to bake at three hundred or maybe more
Staying put on the 3rd or moving up to the 2nd floor.
So, you’re right, I should’ve said what I meant
Next year might not be “harder”, but it will darn sure be different!
And every teacher you’ve had who has prepared you thus far
Who has cajoled, pushed, inspired you to Raise the Bar
Will take pride in your comment – your conversation starter –
That you don’t think any “next” year will be harder.
(Just as an aside – one of those trials by fire –
Pick your words more carefully, too. Don’t call your teacher a liar!)
Now…lest you think “different” means only difficulty ahead,
Let me leave you with these comforting thoughts instead:
Change is coming, it’s true, but there’s no need to race it.
Greet it with a smile, a handshake; embrace it.
Meet the challenge of “different” with jubilant elation.
Congratulations!
You’ve made it one more year.
Enjoy your summer vacation.”
© Jeff Wilson, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)