Usually by mid-May, I'm ready to see students spread their confident wings and move on.
By mid-May, they are pupae in the last phase before bursting through the confining-institution-cocoon of high school education. They've done their twelve years.
Go. Be free.
They want college, the Peace Corps, missions--apartments void of curfew or nagging parents. They want autonomy. They hunger for a gap year, a real job, mature love.
But this year, I'm not ready to see them go. I want to hold on to something that isn't mine. They are like puppies on leashes--pulling, straining, and finally the leash snaps--off they run.
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