Anyway, I was beyond thrilled when the school announced that the wearing of shorts was finally acceptable. Woo hoo! Woo... uhhh... oh, crud! This wasn't going to help me at all. I had only one pair of shorts I could wear to school that still fit OK. (I had grown a few inches since last summer, and we hadn't gone shopping for new summer clothes, yet.) Though they were super cool, faded denim, short-but-not-too-short cut-offs with a far-out, frayed hem, I knew I had a problem. I couldn't be caught wearing the same pair of shorts more than once a week - and even that was a borderline fashion "don't." I was certainly no fashion plate, but I at least knew the basic rules of the game. What would people think?
Having no other shorts that were acceptable - even in the era of short-shorts - I made my decision. I would tough it out, endure the unbearable heat of our non-air-conditioned classrooms, and not wear those shorts until the very last day of school. I marked it on my calendar at home, and counted down each day. The closer we got to early June, the more excited I became. I couldn't wait to unveil my most favorite (and indeed, only) piece of summer attire.
Seven weeks, four days, and 14 hours later, The Day had finally arrived! I eagerly got up for school that morning, climbed into those cut-offs that I had laid out so carefully the night before, and bounded down to breakfast. I couldn't wait to finally be comfy at school, and looked forward to getting home a whole half day early, and not even having to change before I went out to play. I bounced in my bus seat all the way there, and dashed into my classroom.
But, what was this? Where were the report cards? Where were the fun activities we always did on the last day of school? And why were we going to lunch? Flustered and totally disoriented, I asked the teacher why we were still there. And that is when I found out the awful truth...
"Sorry, Kim. The last day of school isn't until tomorrow."