We Don't Want To Go Home

When I worked in a college dorm, I used to tell the students at Christmas break that they would wish they were back in school about January 2.

They laughed me to scorn. “Ha, ha,” they laughed in scorn. “We are so out of here and so not wanting to come back you wouldn’t believe it.” I said, “You wait. Just remember what I said, laugh all you want and circle January 2 on your calendars because that’s the day you will wish you were back.” Scorn, scorn, they laughed.

A month later, they returned with smiles of relief on their collective faces. “It’s really nice to be back,” they said in a chorus of unison. “So nice to be back, really.” I smiled, the smug smile of someone who has been there and also has seen it all before. “Do any of you recall what I told you before the break, huh? Huh?

“Let’s compare and contrast. Do your parents allow you to keep girls in your room with the door closed until two in the morning? Anyone? Nobody is raising their hand. Ok; how about sneaking alcohol into your room? Can you get away with that? I take your silence as meaning ‘no.’ Sleep till noon? Guess not.

“How about staying out all night without telling them where you are going? I guess you find this place a lot more liberal than living at home. Next time you complain about all the rules the college imposes on you, we will gladly give you a couple of weeks off to contemplate the wonders of freedom living with your parents.”