First Day

 My son was just a few months old when I went to my first day of school as a teacher. To say that we have both grown up a lot over the course of the past twenty-eight years would be a massive understatement. When I first reported to Horace Mann Elementary, I was a brand new hire. I had been assured a position through the internship program the district was running in concert with Cal State Hayward. As the summer turned into fall, I waited for word, and with just a week or two left before the new school year was going to begin, I got the notice: I would be the prep teacher at this year-round school in east Oakland. 

Oh, and didn't you say that you knew "a lot" about computers? 

Back in those days, I was going to school in the evenings to learn how to be a teacher and then trying things out the following day. Each morning was an opportunity to start fresh. It was terrifying. I was learning to be a father at the same time, and there were certainly moments when I thought that maybe I was taking on too much. There was not, however, a pause button on my life at that point. I was, to quote the song, running to stand still. 

That was back in the twentieth century. Before the shootings at Columbine. Before 9/11. Before COVID. Before I had fully surrendered to the idea that this would be my career, my calling. Over the past three decades, there have been times when I thought there might be a place for me somewhere else. I considered becoming a middle school math teacher. At least the kids might get a few more of my very funny jokes. This was after I had sampled teaching a fourth grade class of my own for a few years. I liked the mildly autonomous feeling, but I missed being connected to every kid in the school. 

Now I've been doing this job for (checks watch) ever. I am headed in for the warmup week during which we all get together to talk about how we're going to do many things new, but some of them just the same. I get anxious around this time, just like I used to when I was a student. What fresh challenges await me when that front gate opens up for real a week from today? 

Will I be ready?

Well, it just so happens that I know the answer to that one: It doesn't matter. The gate will open and we will start this new year with the same mix of excitement and dread that we have all those years prior. My son will most likely reach out, having left behind those first day jitters once he graduated from college. He'll aske me how it went. And I'll tell him a story about how this year started.