Gap, schmap, I need a rest

Carol in Cairns reports that her son, who is finishing what we call high school this year, is thinking of “taking a gap year” before starting university.

I’d like to take a “gap year” too, or a gap month or even a gap week.

Mama used to say, “There’s no rest for the wicked.” Or was it “There’s no rest for the weary”? Oh, well, I know she said something I was supposed to remember.

A gap year is meant to be temporary, a respite, a time to reflect on what one has accomplished and a chance to catch one’s breath before continuing with the next step of a previously established plan. Sometimes, though, plans can change. Gap years can become permanent. Gap years can even become dead ends.

Someone once said that a grave is a rut with the ends knocked out.

I don’t know how that relates to the concept of a “gap year” but it came to mind just now.

It took my son five years to finish university because his major required more courses and hours than he could fit into four.
But he did it, and went on to get his masters degree as well.

It took my daughter seven years to get her undergraduate degree, but she did finish finally, and married her college sweetheart, with whom she is raising two sons.

There were times during those seven years when she was in the midst of earning her baccalaureate degree that Mrs. RWP and I wondered if she would finish. At one point she moved out of the dorm and into a house along with a couple of her friends, sharing the rent. Later, she decided not to take any courses one semester (a “gap” semester, maybe?) and talked of moving back home. Mrs. RWP and I talked it over, and decided it might be better if she stayed there. “If she comes back home,” I said, “she may never return to college.” So I called her and said we would pay her living expenses to stay in that college town in that house with her friends.

It turned out well, and the following semester she re-enrolled.

Last fall, at the beginning of her 17th year of teaching, she began working on her masters degree, attending classes one night a week. Currently she is about halfway through the required courses.

There are eight million “gap stories” in the naked city. This has been one of them.

I think what I’ve been trying to say in this post is simply this:

Some gaps turn out to be longer than others.

[Editor’s note: This post has generated more comments than I usually receive. They are (a) longer than average and (b) quite interesting. I must have struck a nerve. Please don’t go away without checking them out. --RWP]