Back to School

Well, it’s that time again.  The desk isn’t messy yet, but it’s on it’s way.

As long as I can remember, I’ve never had a year without ‘back to school’, and the feelings haven’t changed much.  Back to school means new school supplies.  New crayons, new markers, a new lunch box. When I was 5 and today.  Although I no longer sit at the kitchen table and practice pouring milk into my thermos. I’m actually quite good at pouring milk now.

Back to school means anxiety.  The same worries in 1959 and 2009.  Will my new teacher like me? (Will my new principal like me?)  Will I like my new teacher?  (my new principal?)  Will the kids like me?

Wednesday I meet my old and new kids, and Tuesday night, just like every night before the first day of school I can remember, I will be anxious and excited.  I will have trouble sleeping.  I will worry so much about oversleeping that I will wake up hours too early and be afraid to go back to sleep.  I will put on my school clothes, and put on my confident face, and pretend that I’m not as nervous about what this year will bring as my new-to-middle-school 6th graders.  At least I know where my class is, and I don’t have a locker to figure out how to open.  And, just like every year I can remember, if I fake competence and confidence the first few days, by next week I won’t be faking it any more.

And my desk will be suitably messy.

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