The advertisements and paperwork and emails are already starting to arrive, midway through July. Specials on notebook paper and teaching supplies. Financial statements for the fall semester. Summer band schedule to learn the fall marching show.
And then there's the desktop widget telling me I have 21 days left of summer break.
There's more significance to the coming school year for our family. "Dear Senior Parent(s)" one letter began, a save-the-date and book-your-hotel-room-now announcement for commencement next May. (Yes, I booked the hotel room.) I'm already sending positive vibes to the Universe on college daughter's behalf for job opportunities upon graduation. Like her, though, I'm trying not to think too much about post-grad employment, as she will be studying abroad in Tokyo this fall, and we need to focus on those details. She's busy brushing up on her Japanese vocabulary while interning for a production company three days a week; she doesn't even want to talk about graduation right now.
Thinking out loud with teenboy in the car this past week, I said, "You're a junior. A JUNIOR." He just laughed, as if to say, "No duh, Mom, where have you been?". Obviously not in the same time-space continuum, because the enormity of it hadn't hit me until that moment. Junior means scrutinizing credits to make sure we're headed down the slippery slope to graduating high school without any glitches. Junior means really paying attention to those college flyers that have been arriving since PSAT scores came out. Junior means talking about the colleges he got to visit with big sister not so long ago, and planning other visits over breaks and next summer. Junior means he and dad need to be a little more active in getting his driver's license.
It's getting real in our house.