When your life is no longer governed by the academic calendar

The AI Blog Post Image Generator tried so hard.

Every weekday morning on my drive to the office, I pass an elementary school. Unless I'm especially early or late, or unless it happens to be a bank/government holiday, the 20mph school zone lights are always flashing as I approach.

Recently, though, for the first time in a while, the lights weren't on.

Initially I didn't understand why that would be. It was 7:45am, prime school arrival time. It was a Wednesday. I couldn't imagine why the kids might be off that day.

Then it hit me.

It was late May. School was out for the summer. The kids wouldn't be back for nearly three months.

It was the first time I realized that virtually every school district around me was on break. It just hadn't occurred to me before.

Not coincidentally, this past year was also the first time since 1998-99 that Terry and I had no kids in school.

For 25 years, we lived within the confines of the academic calendar. Our lives were directly affected by teachers workshops, spring breaks, band concerts, sporting events, and everything else you as a parent experience in the course of the school year.

And now, apart from my PA announcing gigs, that schedule means almost nothing to us. The last day of school – an annual milestone that would have been ingrained in my mind in years past – was irrelevant.

To the point that I didn't even know the kids were on break.

It was strangely disconcerting. Just another little thing to adjust to in our post-secondary parenting lives.

When you're raising kids, there are all kinds of "firsts" and "lasts." And when you have multiple children, the "lasts" aren't truly "last" until your last kid.

Then they go away forever. Just like my recognition of where we were in the year and how teachers and kids had already been set free for the next 11 weeks without me being the least bit aware.

Cut me a little slack. I'm still an empty nester in training.

The office dad joke calendar plays an important role in my life

 

Creature of habit that I am, I follow essentially the same routine every day when I arrive at my office.

Once I put down my stuff and fire up the laptop, I take the salad and anything else from my lunch that needs to be kept cold and haul them to the refrigerator in the nearby kitchen. There I also grab myself a cup of coffee (always black, always my second cup of the day).

Then I walk back to my office, open up OneNote and Outlook, and glance to the right at the bookcase where I keep a combination of knickknacks and business books. Resting on top is my 2023 Dad Joke Desk Calendar.

It is with no small degree of anticipation that I tear off the previous day's joke to see the hilarity awaiting me. Invariably I will read the latest quip, chuckle to myself, and say something like, "Well that's dumb...and funny."

And then I go about my business a little happier and, importantly, armed with yet another horrible joke to tell.

I don't have many bad days at work, so I usually arrive in a pretty good mood. Still, the Dad Joke Calendar always manages to lift that mood a notch or two, if only because they try so hard. As my former News-Herald colleague and longtime Facebook friend Darrell Dawson points out, they sometimes bold a key part of the punchline to make sure you get it.

This is either insulting or hilarious. I'm not sure which.

I've had many different types of desk calendars over the years. Once I had a Jeopardy calendar filled with daily trivia questions I always enjoyed. But I'm not sure I've derived more satisfaction from a time-keeping tool than I have from the Dad Joke Calendar.

I desperately hope they're planning a 2024 version.

I (still) don't like the 31st of almost any month

(NOTE: This post originally ran on July 31, 2015. I still feel this way, so I bring it back six years later)

This is going to sound strange (because it is), but I don't like the fact that today is July 31st.

Nor do I like January 31st, March 31st, May 31st or August 31st. (October 31st is exempt from my contempt because it's Halloween, and December 31st gets a pass because it's New Year's Eve.)

All of those 31s are superfluous, as far as I'm concerned, because they unnecessarily extend months that don't need extending.

Like January, for instance. I live in Cleveland. We don't need an extra day in January, a month filled with wind, snow, ice and general gloominess. January can end after 30 days.

And March? Same thing. The weather is getting better, but it's still cold and March tends to tease us with thoughts of spring, only to turn around and blast us with an unexpected blizzard. So it doesn't need to go the full 31, either.

May? I'm so anxious for June that May 31st is little more than annoying. Get rid of it.

As for August 31st, school has already started back up and yet we're still enjoying hot, summer-like temperatures. That mixture always throws me off. I'm already sufficiently confused in my life, so one less day of potential perplexity is gratefully received. August 31st has to go.

I realize we can't just arbitrarily lop days off the calendar, so I propose adding four make-up days to compensate:

June 31st: I love June. It needs to last a day longer.

September 31st: Northeast Ohio is awesome in late September, what with the leaves turning, high school football, and those increasingly cool mornings. Let's add to that (which I realize makes no sense at all, but please, work with me here).

October 32nd: I need a little buffer between Halloween and the start of November. Thus this.

December 32nd: Why not? Most people take vacation days between Christmas and New Year's anyway, so we'll just make this a mandatory day off and, voila, everyone wins.

You're welcome.

I don't like the 31st of any month

This is going to sound strange (because it is), but I don't like the fact that today is July 31st.

Nor do I like January 31st, March 31st, May 31st or August 31st. (October 31st is exempt from my contempt because it's Halloween, and December 31st gets a pass because it's New Year's Eve.)

All of those 31s are superfluous, as far as I'm concerned, because they unnecessarily extend months that don't need extending.

Like January, for instance. I live in Cleveland. We don't need an extra day in January, a month filled with wind, snow, ice and general gloominess. January can end after 30 days.

And March? Same thing. The weather is getting better, but it's still cold and March tends to tease us with thoughts of spring, only to turn around and blast us with an unexpected blizzard. So it doesn't need to go the full 31, either.

May? I'm so anxious for June that May 31st is little more than annoying. Get rid of it.

As for August 31st, school has already started back up and yet we're still enjoying hot, summer-like temperatures. That mixture always throws me off. I'm already sufficiently confused in my life, so one less day of potential perplexity is gratefully received. August 31st has to go.

I realize we can't just arbitrarily lop days off the calendar, so I propose adding four make-up days to compensate:

• June 31st: I love June. It needs to last a day longer.
• September 31st: Northeast Ohio is awesome in late September, what with the leaves turning, high school football, and those increasingly cool mornings. Let's add to that.
• October 32nd: I need a little buffer between Halloween and the start of November. Thus this.
• December 32nd: Why not? Most people take vacation days between Christmas and New Year's anyway, so we'll just make this a mandatory day off and, voila, everyone wins.

You're welcome.