Like the majority of students, I’ll be returning to the university come fall. In the meantime, however, I’ll be forced to live at home for a few months during summer vacation. I have friends who like going home, and I respect their opinions – as stupid as they are – but it’s safe to say there are many things in this world I would rather do than spend the summer with my family.
The first day back won’t be so bad. I’ll spend most of that time moving back in, so interaction with the other Radermans will be kept to a minimum. The second day will probably go smoothly as well, since I haven’t had the time to remember how badly I get along with everyone.
On the third day, though, the shit hits the fan. It’ll start out innocently enough, probably with a snide comment or double-edged compliment that might be ignored were I a more composed individual, but I’m not, so I’ll return the insult in kind, and within five minutes, the scene will have degenerated into a shouting match or a melee. I mean melee in the literal sense. The last one ended with my brother brandishing a knife.
That sounds worse than it is, I guess. I don’t think he intended to use the knife, and even if he did, he’s still my brother, so the next day we laughed about it until someone made another snide or double-edged compliment and I tried to gouge out his eyes. Then we laughed some more. We’re actually pretty close.
Usually the hassles of summer vacation are a bit less dramatic. This year, I’ll be returning to a local pool to coach a swim team. The coaching itself isn’t so bad. I like children well enough, and I’m actually a good enough coach that I can make them better swimmers. The problem is always the parents. No matter how I coach, there will always be at least two or three adults who think I’m doing it wrong, and when I ignore them, they tell other parents that I’m a terrible person. The worst part is the names. I’ve had three months to remember the names of the six or seven people teaching me this semester, and I think I have four of them down. Over the summer, I have 98 children whose parents expect me to know them by name. Every time I make a mistake or forgo names altogether in favor of the more universal designation “you,” I get the stink eye, and parents start calling me a terrible person again.
At least there are my pets. A dog or a cat will always make you feel better because, to them, you are the greatest being to ever exist. And you have food. That’s important too. A pet would never purposefully make my situation worse, but purpose doesn’t matter, because I’m allergic to all five animals in my house. In one of the great ironies of my life, my mother – a veterinarian – has filled her house with cats and dogs since before I was born. There was even an orangutan. But that’s another story for another column. The point is that even when every other human is out of the house, I’ll still be surrounded by irritants.
I’m the first to admit that finals aren’t fun. Nobody likes studying for a class they haven’t attended for a month, but after five tests during ten days, I’m burnt out. The last thing I need is to go home and deal with more drama in a week than I’ve had over the last semester. I need to find a way to stay in school year-round. No classes would be nice, too. College without classes amounts to nothing, and nothing sounds like a perfect vacation.
John Raderman is a sophomore journalism major. He can be reached at raderman@umd.edu.
