Brown: School time was my 'summer break'

Summer is not a vacation when you live on a farm. Growing up, I didn’t go to school, but I had heard of this mysterious thing known as summer break. Despite a couple of obvious interpretations, it was clear that this term was intended to denote some sort of reprieve, rather than what sort of plow you would be using. Eventually, I began college, my first experience with the semester system of scheduling — and low and behold, I thought it would be my chance to understand that great vacation I’d heard of known as the summer.

Audra Brown

Down on the Farm

Alas, it was not to be. After one go around the school-year, the hopeful anticipation that my peers shared regarding that central semester, was not reciprocated by me. In fact, I was in many ways the opposite. I enjoyed the freest time when school was in session. The 20-30 hours a week that class-attendance and homework required was a fine vacation.

There were many isolated hours in between class times that were truly free. No time to go home and do any work, but a sweet span of minutes that could be dedicated to sipping a glass of iced tea and perusing a good book. Even working on homework in those breaks was quite a pleasant and painless way to spend the time.

Algebra problems may need to be solved, but they require no parts or grease to fix. Your iced-tea class does not run near the risk of getting knocked over and spilled due to the rough terrain while your turn the tractor and have no extra hands to keep it contained. Homework rarely necessitates the focused attention of both hands.

In my day, far gone, a paperback book, a palm pilot, an early iPod touch, a printed puzzle, or a my fancy-smancy graphing calculator — got the attention of that free hand and the many open multi-tasking spots.

School was a vacation, or the closest I’ve ever really come. I looked forward to when it was in session and raced back to its slow-paced world after every so-called “vacation” when I was at home, getting the farm work done.

Summer was the worst; weeks of plowing, planting, and cutting wheat to get done. Spring break was a mixed blessing, with less farm work, but sound and rehearsal for the Floyd Jamboree took up those days. Thanksgiving break, no matter how short or long, seemed to be reserved for cattle work that my family had conveniently postponed until I could come.

Audra Brown write only fiction when she writes about a real summer vacation. Contact her at [email protected]. Find her and her books on the web at audra-brown.com.