Back to school, be like…

Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… realizing that your few purchases of clothing for your Fashionable Teacher Wardrobe, of which you were wildly proud, are woefully inadequate. The five wool sweaters you bought at Frenchy’s just don’t cut it thanks to Global Warming. Likewise the cute fur-lined slipper boots. And the brand new sweater-blanket. But, since all you own are flip-flops or fur-lined slipper boots, you are forced to wear flip-flops with every outfit. Even with that one nice dress that makes you look like Angelina Jolie. Twenty years and twenty pounds from now. That Angelina.

Counting the days to wearing the sweater blanket.

Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… realizing that your determination to ignore the siren call of Tim Horton’s as you drive past the drive-through every morning at 6:45 may be misguided. Sure, spending $20 a week on coffee is extravagant. Sure, Tim Horton’s coffee tears through your digestive system like a teen driver skipping class. Sure, you haven’t had Tim Horton’s coffee all summer, and lived to tell the tale.


Coffee… goooood.

Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… getting home at 4pm on a Friday afternoon and lying on the floor in the hallway because that’s where you were when you stopped moving, midway between your intention to throw in some laundry, walk the dogs, make supper, vacuum and empty the compost… and your intention to prepare your lessons for Monday… before you got too tired…

But there’s the floor.

Ahhh… sweet floor, how I have longed to lie on you, since recess. On Monday. And here we are, together again.

Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… sitting at supper while your food goes cold and your Love’s eyes glaze over because you are telling him about Jeffery and Shannon and John and Lydia, and how you just know tomorrow’s lesson is going to Blow Their Minds, and how the new policies aren’t helping anyone, and how you ran out of glue sticks and it was mayhem, and how the entire hallway smelled of fish but there were no fish to be seen, and…

And the lesson doesn’t Blow Their Minds, but its ok, because you can discuss that with your Love later, and who wants to eat a hot supper anyway?


Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… making energy balls of oatmeal and peanut butter and chia seeds faithfully on Sunday night for the first two weeks, and then, at recess on Monday of the third week, wishing someone would magically appear in your classroom, bearing energy balls. And maybe a Tim Horton’s coffee. Because there’s nothing wrong with TWO Timmie’s a day.

Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… losing your giant desk calendar on which you lovingly wrote your plans and meetings, in multi colored pens the week before school started. Losing it under the essays, photocopies, lists, forms, books, pens, folders and, mysteriously, a perfectly folded paper airplane you don’t remember confiscating.

Bye-bye giant calendar. See you in June.

Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… blinking in surprise as you realize, once again, how incredibly boring you are. No one can make an individual feel more boring than a bored teen. I’m boring myself, just thinking about how bored they look. You forget that, every summer. At the end of summer, you enter the school, confident that you are, like, the most exciting teacher ever, because, like, you have rubrics. And new multi-colored pens. And a giant desk calendar. And a nice dress that makes you look like a sixty-year old, fat Angelina Jolie. You’re not. You’re boring.

Just sayin’.

Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… saying yes to all the things you swore you would say no to.

… leaving all of your coffee travel mugs at school after the first three days. Enter: Timmies.

… trying, and failing, to retrain yourself to use PowerTeacher, and feeling stupid because you can’t remember your password from last year. Staff email? Same. Tienet? Samesies.

… pondering, at 3am, when you woke up from a weird teacher-dream and can’t get back to sleep, why so many of the kids in the grade ten year are named Garrett and Logan and Austin, and whether or not Austin will be emotionally crippled if you keep calling him Logan, and vice versa, but dammit, they keep switching chairs and how are you supposed to remember?

… realizing, yet again, that the photocopier is the most important machine in your world, ten minutes before class, when you NEED 30 copies, and it jams… like Satan himself is in the gears…

Being a teacher in the early weeks of September means…

… worrying about That Kid. Times ten. Because they are hungry, sad, lonely, tired, bored, beautiful, smelly, dirty, clean, worried, intense, scary, thoughtful, clever, rude, foul, hilarious… That Kid.

They are all… That Kid.

And that’s why we do it.

Happy Back to School, teaching brethren!

PicMonkey Collage

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