This is a confusing time of year. It’s barely August, yet in most places, school is days away from starting. May I go on record for saying (along with many of you) that this phenomenon mucks up the natural progression of summer and her traditions?

That schools start at all in August is an abomination. School should start in September, either after Labor Day (following the US system, no matter what date), or on September 1 which marks the first month of fall as well as the start of the new church year in Orthodox Christian countries. In agrarian societies, the right time to start formal learning was even later—October. After all, kids would be in the fields in August and September harvesting the crops.

Modern kids need to be outside during August’s hot days, freed from the tyranny of air-conditioning that implants the idea life should always be “comfortable.” They need to hone their skills and creativity by being engaged in bike-riding, skating, toppling over wagons, chalking up the sidewalks, waving badminton rackets, fishing, splashing, and swimming. What a pity for kids to be dragged into bed at dusk when they need to be running around crazily in the yard, chasing lightning bugs and spooking each other from behind trees and bushes.

Now that the façade of public school’s inevitability has fallen due to the pandemic, a good many parents—in addition to questioning what goes on in classrooms—may be viewing the jarringly early school start as another reason to consider homeschooling. Time will tell.

Since I’m ranting about early school starts, I might as well get another rant off my chest: the loss of a ceremonial start to the school year. I shake my head in sadness remembering the simple, beautiful rituals we had in my school days. I also note the time-honored ceremonies that mark school’s beginning in many countries. In Russia, for example, there is a tradition where children bring flowers to the new teacher. Students bedecked with bouquets gather outside of school while the administrators give speeches and welcome everyone. Then, in various configurations, the children, radiating a cloud of floral scents, process into the classrooms.

Another meaningful (and fun) tradition exists in German-speaking lands where, on the first day of school, kids receive sturdy, colorful paper cones called Schultüten filled with goodies of various kinds, including small toys and school supplies. Children enjoy anticipating these Schultüten as a happy tradition marking the beginning of what, within their school system, will be a demanding academic year.

I’ve heard of notable traditions created by American homeschooling families to mark the beginning of school. Some are quite daring, like having the whole family go rock-climbing! In other families, complicated, favorite foods are cooked together the night before, allowing one last festive family dinner before the schedule gets complex. In still others, formal and silly photos are taken in spots like the city’s arboretum or a pretty garden area in the back yard.

We are emerging from a long period when normality was rocked, expectations dashed, and traditions toppled. The heartwarming signs of normalcy are returning, despite intervening currents that threaten. I am heartened. I confess to wondering whether things like folks holding doors for each other, or those spontaneous conversations that erupt in a cashier’s line, would be lost forever. At least in my experience, these things are coming back with a vengeance. In my perception (and perhaps in yours), it seems that people are being even more diligent with gestures of politeness.

Ever an optimist, I find myself thinking that people may develop a higher appreciation of the traditions and activities crushed so viciously by the rules imposed during the pandemic. For example, attendance at folk festivals and concerts could be undertaken more ardently; invitations to share family and social events may rise higher to the top of our “busy schedules.” I could list other possibilities, but you know the kinds of examples that would occur in your life.

So, let August take her lazy path. If it brings your children into a classroom early, perhaps you will find ways to extend the languid, discovery-filled spirit of summer during evenings and weekends. And if four weeks of summer’s joys still lie before you, drink them in, along with mountains of watermelons, zucchini, cantaloupes, and garden tomatoes.