When school ended, it seemed like the end of the world had arrived, because we had almost three months of vacation ahead of us. This meant that when we returned to school, we looked at our classmates as if we didn't know them, or had even stopped recognizing them, because with the passing of a hundred days, at those ages, everyone changed, a little or a lot. Summer was a time out of time, a true utopia.
We could even say it was the last possible utopia: childhood elevated to the status of "eternal," a time gifted and sustained, of games and leisure, reading, movies, and who knows if even a trip. It's also true that before, children went to the rain more, and that adults seemed to be less concerned; now there's a concern, perhaps exaggerated, about what they might do at any given moment, about the trouble they might get into, in addition to the screen addiction, which means that during the holidays, all they do is sit in front of a game console or phone, playing or searching for each other on the internet. Now, they seem to be going from frenzy to boredom.
And with their attention spans cut short, they lack the patience to read, often not even to watch a whole movie—even at the cinema. Screens have also become guardians, a way of keeping them under control and entertained. Families struggle to maintain disciplined limits on screen time, and vacation time seems like it can be used to connect with parents, with nature, or with the sea. There's a lot of talk about reducing this vacation time, now, to just six or seven weeks, as the English, Germans, and now it seems also in France do. It seems that when they return to school, they no longer know how to read or multiply; they've forgotten almost everything. It's also true that vacations make inequality more evident: some people can take advantage of extra classes and travel, and have parents who make them read, do math, or do homework with others. And others have none of these. Or, everything revolves around sports and sponsorships.
The holidays give some more momentum than others, and benefit those already favored. But if the school year is extended, classrooms must be air-conditioned, because by the end of June, people in certain schools in this Mediterranean environment can't breathe (some children have ended up in the emergency room). I don't know whether or not it's necessary to rethink the model, but families aren't what they were thirty years ago, nor are children, nor is the cultural climate, nor the economy, nor leisure activities. But the labor laws that govern parents' lives are, and often the incomes are the same—or lower—and that's what should enable families to enjoy decent and hopefully educational leisure time. The middle-class crisis is also a crisis of vacations, of the sense of that time outside of time, and of the possibilities for leisure, rest, and culture. As always, families will have to take care of everything; and if it's already heroic to work and survive, now it's vacation time and make it to September without having committed suicide.
