Back to School VI, The Saga Continues

So school is starting next Monday. In 1, 2, count 'em, 3 days. I should be terrified, I've never been less prepared for school. On Wednesday, I even forgot about Back to School Night---in between meetings I cleaned my room in 20 minutes and sped over to Target to buy a responsible looking outfit that said "Trust your children with me." And the night went without a hitch. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, in fact. I don't remember ever having seen such precious seventh graders. Although I really shouldn't get ahead of myself here---everyone knows that the kids flipping you the bird or fighting in the halls don't do Back to School Night. Even though they sometimes frequent choir concerts (really, I'm not just exaggerating for comic effect).

So, in the midst of my personal dysfunction and chaos, why have I never felt so excited to go back? This is Back to School #6. I distinctly remember greeting numbers 1 and 3 with adrenaline and a healthy helping of trepidation; #1 for obvious reasons, and #3 because it was starting over again at a new school, and replacing a beloved teacher to boot (you know it's bad when parents tell you that they feel sorry for you because you have to follow such a legend). I think I could have been reasonably happy about Back to School #2, but it came on the heels of a rather indelicate breaking, nay, stomping of my heart. Thank you J. K. Rowling: reading Harry Potter 5 really got me through Back to School #2. Since I created my own legend (ha!) at Orem Junior High and silenced the naysayers of BTS #3, you would think that Back to Schools #4 & #5 would have been a regular barrel of monkeys, but I remember more a sense of dragging my feet. Not utter loathing and dread, but maybe not turning cartwheels. (Let me pause while I do a back handspring right. . . now.) Not until I actually started the actual teaching. Don't get me wrong, once the year is operational and I'm over the inertia of summer irresponsibility, I LOVE the kids---a few exceptions notwithstanding---and I LOVE the teaching.

I'm still left to wonder what exactly has made the difference now. Why the genuine elation? I mean, my bulletin boards aren't even done (gasp)---no butcher paper slapped up there even. Cardinal sin #1. (I think I heard it's like a class C felony for elementary teachers for that kind of delinquency.) Not to mention the "important" stuff: no disclosure documents, no programmed music, no lesson plans. So, even at my most desperate, why should I be wasting the time to question my inexplicable carefreeness? (And to be writing this down?) I'm feeling good, I should just go with it, right?

But I think I'm gradually starting to learn (actually, I'll probably have to travel down this avenue of self discovery about 4 more times before I can technically say that I've learned this lesson)---after a lifetime of worrying about how everything needs to perfect all the time---that the teachers that have the most beautiful bulletin boards don't necessarily change the most lives. Nor are these teachers probably the most emotionally stable. And my boards will be looking plenty beautiful in about a week anyway. . . after I manipulate some kids into doing them for me. But is it the bulletin boards that really make me happy? Thankfully, no. In fact, let me amend that to a NO! In the fifth grade---when I lived for doing that kind of thing for my teachers---I might have found this a more than sufficient reason to get out of bed in the morning. Now I'd rather sleep an extra 15 minutes (Truth be told, I could probably be coerced to sign over many a valuable item in the morning for an extra 15 minutes of sleep; I'd better not marry a very opportunistic guy.). The reason I get up in the morning now is ____________ . Though teaching junior high choir means walking a fine line between heaven and hell (you'd be amazed to know how close they are to each other!), I'm sure you could fill in the blank with the cheesiest answer you can think of and it'd probably be spot on.