the end

As an adult, I look forward to an approaching June in almost the exact same way I did as a kid: with a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

Anxiety
Most of the 8th graders are "like, totally over it." Middle school that is. And of course, they should be. But I get this way every year, sending them off to high school, wondering if I did my best. Hoping they'll know enough, worrying that they'll sit, lost and confused through freshman English.

Excitement
After three years of witnessing it, I could calculate it almost to the day: the time when eighth graders, as a rule, grow fond of complaining. It becomes their new favorite hobby, the thing they love most in the world. And soon, very soon I will be free of their constant, nasally, eye-rolling whines. And...yes, this is a complaint. That's the problem, it's catching.