I can't vouch for my friends, but for me the last day of school before summer vacation was a magical time.
The day dragged on. There's no denying it. The final hour or so before the last bell rang was quite possibly the longest hour of all time. By now the teachers had given up too. There was no studying or verbal interaction. Everybody.... students, teachers, the principal, the custodial workers, the truant officer.... everyone stared at the clock.
When 3 o'clock finally arrived, and that loud clanging bell sounded for the final time that year, we all jumped out of our chairs and ran for the doors.
Anything left behind, books, papers, pens, articles of clothing, stayed there. Once you were out the door there was no turning back.
I remember thinking that it was a wonder no one was killed in the ensuing stampede. I remember a year in junior high school where I slipped and fell within ten feet of the front door. I really thought it was the end. I could see the green grass and trees. I could smell the fresh summer air. Then strong arms grabbed me and lifted me up. It was my mechanical drawing class teacher who, caught up in the excitement of the exodus, was leaving the building also, even though he was required to stay until 4.
I nodded my thanks and shot out the door. I didn't look back then like I'm doing now. I just continued running, into the summer.