This post is a crossover with my other blogs, which you can find here at my teacher blog, The Bookish Classroom, and here at my writer blog on Substack. You can also check out my online store, The Bookish Classroom, here and my article on Education Week here.
August 1st was when the scaries set in. I would stare at the calendar, counting the days, trying to hold on to the feeling of July, but I felt September too acutely in the way the light shone through the leaves, felt autumn in the back-end chill of a breeze.
The last week of August brought anxiety and spiraling thoughts. That heavy feeling of the next 10 months looming. How am I going to do this again? How can I keep being who I was this summer? I was never able to keep being who I was in the summer. Too much happens in a school year that changes you. So, I’d mourn her before the first staff development, planting a seedling of hope that maybe I’d be able to hang on to a little piece of her and the peace she’d cultivated over June and July.
I’d talk myself through the days, taking each one one step at a time.
Day One: Staff development is easy. Just adults. No lesson plans. No prep. Nothing to worry about.
Day Two: You’ll be more in the swing of things. Today you ready your room. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Don’t drive yourself crazy.
Day Three: Today you put together your lessons for when the kids come. You’ve done this before. You know what works. Make it so that day one is easy for everyone.
Of course, there were more than just those things to do during those pre-kid days of school. But I found the best way to calm my anxious mind was to eat the elephant one bite at a time and to take it slowly.
The first official day of school was when the kids came.
The night before the first day of school with the kids is the worst night of sleep I’ve ever gotten. This assessment extends to every year I ever spent in a school, including when I was student. My body had to adjust to waking up early again, my eyes had to adjust to the fluorescent lighting of a school building. (It’s part of the reason why I never turned the overhead light on in my classroom. A detail I was admonished for by two admin. I continued to keep the lights off because the kids liked it, and my DC/VP didn’t mind.)
On the way to work: You don’t have to teach them anything today. This is the easiest day of teaching you’ll have all year. They’ll work together on an activity, and you’ll review the syllabus. That’s it. Easy.
One year my work pants didn’t fit, so I had to wear thick wool ones in the 100-degree early September heat in a fourth-floor classroom with no air conditioning. (The wool pants were the only ones in my drawer that fit.)
One year a student said she met her best friend at the beginning of the school year in my class because of the “getting to know you activity” I had them do on the first day.
One year I had students from the year before come visit me first thing in the morning to tell me all about their summer. (Well, every year, really.) These conversations were magic. My new class would filter in, watching me talk to my former students, and I’d think, Next year, it’s going to be you coming to visit. But for now, we were strangers.
Every year, the final bell for the day would ring. I’d gather my papers. The student letters and contact forms and what not. I’d get in my car and call someone. A teacher friend who was just ending their day. My mom. I was high on the adrenaline of a good first day. I’d made it.
Every year, I’d get home and turn on my air conditioner. Sit on the couch. Turn on a comfort show and fall asleep, exhausted by the heat of my classroom and the excitement of meeting all these new faces.
And every year, I’d wake up after a long nap and think, I can’t believe I did it. And I can’t believe I have to do it again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.
Happy back to school season, friends.
Robyn Neilsen 