Oh no, summer's here

The excitement of sailors on nearing land after days out at sea can be compared to the joy of anticipation among children in the hot season. The cries of 'land ahoy' and 'last day of school' are symbolic of the exultation one feels at the nearing of an event waited for with bated breath for months on end.

However, most parents view with dread the beginning of long school vacations. A working mother reveals to me in a hushed whisper that she wishes schools would only close for two weeks in a year and not for months at a time. She says this with a smile tinged with guilt. Encouraged by the look on my face, she decides to opt for frankness. She recounts with horror other long holidays when normally well-behaved siblings, at least during the academic year, went berserk during the endless days of liberty from a demanding routine, of having to quell arguments and squabbles that threatened to endanger life and limb. This is when she is grateful for having a job that helps her maintain her sanity, merely by getting away from it all.

As the litany of summer woes continues, my sympathies go out to all of her ilk who have a similar cross to bear. Parents awaken to the realisation of the awesome responsibility shouldered by academic institutions in keeping their children occupied for the better part of the day. Now is the time when you hear them whisper about having to deal with their offspring 24/7 for months at a stretch. In their mind's eye they can see the havoc that will be wrought in homes once boredom sets in.

With the rise in temperature, there simply isn't the option of asking them to go out and play. So, mothers start planning ahead. They convince themselves that their children will continue to have their every waking hour structured as in school. Through rose-tinted spectacles, they envisage their children sitting down with a book, so absorbed in the vicarious experience that they do not hear the phone or doorbell ring. But that's all right, they tell themselves, as long as the sagging bookshelves are relieved of their weight and the reading habit is inculcated.

There is another dream scenario, one in which siblings while away the hours playing board games in perfect amity. Carried away by this picture of the young ones in perfect harmony with one another, the dreamers find themselves lost in thought after delicious thought of their children indulging in activities that will make them even smarter than they already are.

Then the advertisements start& Summer camps that promise to roll out well-rounded personalities, boost concentration and brain power, equip children to become seasoned debaters, instil self-confidence and help make them future Einsteins. These are obviously aimed at the more academically inclined parents. The physical fitness programmes appeal to those who envisage their wards blossoming into miniature versions of their heroes with six-pack abs. The ones that advertise endless fun and games are obviously targeted at the young ones, who know fully well that what they want they will get, albeit after a concentrated guilt-inducing campaign where they remind parents of all their friends who will be attending the camp and having fun while they sit at home. This works especially well with working mothers. Unless of course she happens to be a teacher, in which case that's sheer bad luck. Her holidays coincide with those of her children. And she is already equipped to keep young minds gainfully occupied.

But the reality is far removed from reverie. Adults wilt under the stress of making their children stick to a daily routine. After a few days, they cave in out of sheer exhaustion. Soon, the children can be seen growing roots in front of the TV or computer while parents take to heart the advice of the three monkeys: see no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil.