As the semester winds down and the promise of summer draws nearer, I’ve been thinking a lot about the role of summer vacation in a student’s life.

What practical purpose is served by letting kids out of the classroom for months at a time?

As a child, I was taught that summer vacation stemmed from a bygone era when children were needed to work on the family farm.

I think it’s safe to say that months of child labor aren’t quite as necessary to make it by today, though.

So, the question remains: Why let kids out of school at all? Why give them time to screw around, get into trouble and forget the lessons they learned in class?

That seems to be the line of thinking that prompts school administrators to push for both shorter summer breaks and additional summer school programs that keep students in the classroom practically year-round.

This reflects the way most “grown-ups” see summer – a time that doesn’t benefit children; a time better spent learning in the classroom than out causing trouble, raising mischief and generally running amuck.

But if the summers of my childhood were any indication, then these education mongers and vacation haters couldn’t be more wrong.

As a child, though, my summers were filled less with mayhem than mild boredom.

However, the boredom of my summers prompted me to learn many things I wouldn’t have learned in class.

Would I have learned of the beautiful colors one can make when stomping a lightning bug on the concrete if I’d been made to do homework on July evenings? I doubt it.

Would I have learned to climb on the roof of my garage in gym class? A rope, maybe, but a garage roof, most certainly not.

Would I have learned of gravity’s force and the tremendous, unavoidable pain of falling off said garage into the gravel-filled alley in grade school physics class? No, sir!

Lessons like these do not seem important to a “suit” making a curriculum, but lessons like those above have done more for me than the year I spent being taught how to write in cursive or memorizing my multiplication tables.

And I assure you, dear reader, I never would have contemplated anything existential while sitting in a classroom.

The first time I thought about my mortality was in the summer after second grade.

With no school to attend and Pokémon still months away from popularity, I decided to climb on my swing set to check on the birds I’d seen nesting there. As quietly as I could, I crept up the ladder and saw that mama bird was sleeping on her belly next to her empty nest. Only after crawling to within a foot of the bird did I realize she was not going to wake up.

Looking at this dead bird that had been so alive just the previous day showed me the absolution of death. When I asked my father about it later that day he said, “The only sure thing about life is death.”

Perhaps this wasn’t the happiest of childhood memories but these are the moments that we remember best. And moments like those form the foundation of the summer vacations America’s youth loves, and needs, so dearly. After all, some lessons simply can’t be taught in a classroom.

Doug T. Graham is a sophomore journalism major and can be reached at 581-7942 or [email protected]