Sam’s last day of school is next Friday, June 20, but already his brain is on vacation. He got in trouble at school both Tuesday and Wednesday for cutting up and talking and giggling in class. The teacher moved him to a different seat, away from his main cohort, but still he acted up. This is, I suppose, an occupational hazard of class clownism, and made all the worse by the knowledge that there are only a few short days left in the school year (and half of those will consist of field trips).

As of the beginning of June, homework stopped. The weekly Friday spelling test stopped. And so, apparently, has Sam’s concentration and self-control. The teacher is all Fractions and centimeters and adjectives while Sam is all Stink bugs and soccer and the pool. (He has recently learned to swim, and while I can drag him out of the physical pool, he’s forever swimming in the pool in his head.)

Poor kid. When I was in high school, we used to call it senioritis (although I have a college degree, I was never a high school senior. Did you know that?). I don’t know what they call it in first grade, but Sam has it and he has it bad. All he has to do is make it another week without getting his sassy ass suspended, and it’s all sunshine and swimming for the next three months.