'Twas The Night Before Back To School

It’s the night before the first day back to school.  While many kids are tossing and turning with excitement and joy, while parents hold their breath for the maximum release that will come with having the kids back on schedule and in their learning environment tomorrow, I sit here typing this, and try not to barf.

I have always hated the night before back to school.  H-A-T-E it!  I’m a ball of nerves, I feel sad, I don’t want to go, I’m afraid.  I’m 41 years old, and I am still afraid to go back to school.  I used to lay awake until midnight or after, stirring and stewing about all things school.  The supplies, the clothes, the teachers, the bus driver, the students, the changes, the newness, the schedule, the work… I would play things over in my mind, tense with worry and unable to talk about it or change anything.  I felt so alone.

Guess what’s changed in thirty years?  Not much.  Only now, I have two kids I have to hide my feelings from.  Because I damn sure don’t want them ever feeling like this!  I want them to be excited to go, to be thinking about the fun of school, the wonderful and nice teacher, the colorful classroom, the new information, the materials, the facts, the friends, the independence.  I want them to face that first day of whatever grade, with determination and fervor.  I want them to love going back to school, because they love school.  I don’t want them to actually dread it, as I do.

As I posted on the Facebook page tonight, I feel like a ten year old again. While Beef laughed at that, I sat here, looking at other friend’s posts, and my eyes filled with tears.  I don’t want to celebrate my kids going back to school.  They are not something I look forward to freeing myself of.  I do not see school as my vacation.  Mainly because I work for the school.  And I love what I do.  I truly love my part in the great symphony of education.  But all that peripheral stuff?  I dread it.  I don’t want to think about plans and supplies, friends (or lack of) and disagreements.  I don’t want to have to defend myself or worry about how many wrongs I do a day.

Why would I think like that, you ask?  Well, when I went to school for my own education, I was “the bad kid”.  I didn’t have a great track record with teachers.  In fact, it wasn’t until 2nd or 3rd Grade that I really felt like teachers were loving people. And out of my entire education, I can only remember about five of them acting like they loved their profession or the students they taught.  It’s not that they didn’t.  I can’t say that, because I was a kid, and kids didn’t ask adults questions back then.  But I can tell you that it felt to me like they were there to do a job and they would do it regardless of whether I was happy or sad.

There was a little girl, a preteen, a young lady who sat upstairs in her room; every night before back to school, and she would fret and feel lonely.  If I could go back to her and tell her something, I could lie and say I’d tell her that everything will be fine, that it will all work out and be alright, and one day, it would all be over.  But I don’t want to lie to her.  So instead, I would tell her that no matter what happens, I’ll be waiting for her on this side of the door, to help her, to encourage her, and to believe that she can do it.  School isn’t over for her, and it isn’t over for me.

But now, my eyes are droopy, and I think I’m ready to go in and try to go to sleep.  Maybe that will be one more thing that’s different now.  Maybe I will actually be able to purge these feelings and sleep!

Happy Back To School Everyone!