School officially begins a week from tomorrow, August 22nd. On that day, my second crop of first graders will arrive with nervous smiles, loaded backpacks, and teary-eyed mothers who are sure their baby cannot survive this cruel world without them. I know this, because I have been one of those teary-eyed, panicked mothers four times. Four children, four launches into the unknown world of formal schooling. I am confident that I will be ready to receive those children with a wide smile and open arms. I am the first grade teacher. I have to be ready.
And while it is true that this is my second first grade class, it is also true that this is my first FIRST day of school (are you dizzy yet?) Let me explain…
As most of you know, I went back to college at the tender age of 47 in order to achieve a second college degree, this time in elementary education. During those months of schooling, I had my eye on the job I currently possess. I wanted to teach first grade in my daughter’s school. I knew the first grade teacher was close to retiring and I hoped against hope that the timing would work in my favor. This is how it went in my Dream World; former first grade teacher exits, and new teacher (me), enters. No running all over the state searching for a job (they are hard to come by in our low population state). I also knew it would take just the perfect alignment of circumstances, planets, and whatever else was needed to fall into place. It was kind of a long shot. I knew that. But I am The Eternal Optimist. It’s a little sickening (even for me) how blissfully sunny I am about how things will work out. They don’t always, of course. Nobody lives in a fairy tale. But I not only see my glass as perpetually half full, I fully believe there is a waiter standing just behind me ready to refill said glass as soon as I take a sip.
So as I wound down my course work and prepared for student teaching (joyfully granted in the same school I wanted to be hired in), I got the word that the standing teacher was, indeed, going to retire at the end of the school year. Now I held my breath. The school board decided to combine first and second grade for the fall. Well, that was good news for me. At least they hadn’t hired a new teacher to replace the former. I still had a shot. Still holding my breath. The fall semester wound down to December and no word on whether I would be hired or not. Still holding my breath. Turning a beautiful shade of blue about now…. Still waiting, still hoping, still optimistic. The December board meeting came and with it my last hope of securing the first grade position for the spring term. By now my lungs were screaming. That meeting was the longest night of my life. FINALLY, the principle stopped by on his way home. I had the job. BIG exhale. Now I could start planning (well, if you know me at all, you know I had been planning all along. Actually getting hired was merely the last piece of the puzzle).
And so, on January 18th, 2011, I experienced MY first day of school. Some of you joined me on that day when I posted my first blog entry. My first graders had been first graders for four months already. They were old hands at it. It was an exciting day, yes, and I tried to make it new and fresh. But it wasn’t the same as that magical autumn first day of school. I felt just a little jilted. Kinda’ like spending big bucks for a concert ticket and excitedly arriving only to discover that some minor band would be playing instead. It just isn’t the same.
So when the last day of the 2010-2011 school year arrived, I began immediately making plans for the fall. Not that I haven’t enjoyed summer. Ohmygoodness, have I ever! For the first time in two years, I was able to do something besides study incessantly. I feel rested and renewed. I have loved this summer. If you are a Facebook friend, you also know how much I have enjoyed having all four of my children home for the summer as well. My husband and I had to sell our wedding rings in order to buy enough food for this hungry and mostly male crew, but we have had a blast. I’m kidding, of course, about the wedding rings.
But even in the throes of enjoying summer, I have also spent a great deal of time back in The Magic Tree House, preparing for the 22nd. We have a new superintendant this year. He asked me one day with a completely straight face, “Do you live here?” Well…. technically, no…..
My husband keeps giving me funny looks every time I head out the door for yet another summer vacation day spent at school. And I know what question is coming out of his mouth next, ”Are you getting paid for this day?” Paid in personal satisfaction, My Luv. I know it’s kooky and over-the-top to give it so much effort. But truthfully, (and I am not making this up), I LIKE to be in my classroom. I feels like home to me. What do I do in all those summer hours spent there? Well, lets see… I never had the luxury of fully cleaning out and going through all the supplies left by the former teacher (thirty-nine years in that classroom. There was lots of stuff to go through). And then there are all the projects I want to undertake; thematic units and such. And I wanted to save myself some of the immense and overwhelming weekend work that I did during my first semester. To that end, I sent the copier into spasms trying to organize and fill tidy folders with handouts for the semester. The fun part is, when I would get sick of being there, I could simply go home. This is puttering at its very finest. Work as much or as little as I like.
As so, as I enter the last week of summer vacation and have one teacher in-service day under my belt already, I am calmly confident that my second first day will be a rousing success. I have put thought and effort into that day, the first weeks, and the entire year as a whole. I will still find myself burning the midnight oil at times, and weekends won’t be void of preparation. But I dearly hope that I FEEL more in control and less hanging-on-for-dear-life than I did my first dive into teaching. Last year I had seven first graders in my care. Up until last week I thought I would have six this year. Now that number is back up to seven. Seven is the biblical number of perfection.
I think I’m ready…
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