September Start Over

I have always been excited about a new school year. Whether I was a student or a teacher, September was filled with promise and excited anticipation. That isn’t to say that I wasn’t tired, burned out, and grumpy by May. By the time spring rolled around, I’d be dreaming of a “Teachers Gone Wild” vacation package—complete with all-you-can-eat snacks and a strict “No Grading Papers” policy.

This excitement was especially strong when changing school levels. Transitioning from elementary school, middle school, high school, and college were times that I could recreate or reimagine the person I wanted to be. Or at least that’s what I told myself every August when I was in denial about the impending chaos.

I’ve already written recently about my wardrobe dreams when I moved from 6th grade at Washington Elementary to Beaver Dam Jr. High. I expected my new clothes to create a new person. Cool Levi’s corduroy pants and fresh shirts would wow my friends. Kids would be drawn to my aesthetic and want to be my friend. Little did I know that middle school was the time of life when girls would gossip all day and then go home and write “notes” in the evening. They would then pass them out the next day to recap and memorialize the previous day’s drama. Who knew that “Note-Passing 101” was a required middle school course?

Unfortunately, I found this activity without value and I couldn’t get myself to participate in this ritual. My middle school dreams of becoming the queen of cool were quickly replaced by a survival plan that involved a lot of eye-rolling and avoiding boys during passing periods.

The transition from 9th grade at Beaver Dam Jr. High to 10th grade at Beaver Dam High School was more successful. I looked forward to not only having different teachers for each subject but also having a say, some choice, in what classes I wanted to take. The day wasn’t long enough to take all the classes I was interested in. I ended up with band, chorus, and Spanish to complement the required math, English, science, and social studies. But I had to pass on Drafting (I was warned that I would be the only girl in the class if I decided to take it), Reasons & Revolution (cool teacher who played music in a dark room on Fridays), and Ceramics (throwing pots on a spinning wheel looked like so much fun). Who knew my high school experience would be marked by the tragic loss of future ceramics masterpieces?

I spent my entire Senior year of HS looking forward to college. On Friday nights, my friend Paula would come home from UW-LaCrosse and I would grill her about dorm life, food choices in the cafeteria, and university-level classes. Is it a lot harder than high school? What are weekends like? How is it having a roommate? Paula must have felt like she was being interrogated by the CIA, but she was patient with my endless questions.

I spent the summer choosing a quilt. I needed two towels to match my color theme. Students carried toiletries in an ice cream bucket to the bathroom—I’d need one of those. I bought a hot pot for making ramen noodles, dishes, and some silverware. I would need plants to make the space feel homey. I was prepared for anything—except maybe for going to class.

And then, I became a teacher and actually had to plan for the new school year. But it was a joy. I would recover, recuperate, and recover from the previous year and begin dreaming and planning for the next one. The excitement of a new school year was the perfect antidote to the previous year’s “I swear, next year I’m going to the Caribbean instead.”

And so, as September rolls around once again, I’m filled with that same sense of promise and anticipation. There’s nothing quite like the smell of freshly sharpened pencils, the feel of a brand-new planner (which I will inevitably abandon by October), and the thrill of wondering what this year will bring. Because, no matter what, I’m ready for it.

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