Back-to-school joys and nightmares
Updated: September 6, 2012 10:52AM
Last week we attended another open house at the high school.
It was our ninth consecutive year of open houses. It always reminds me of what I did and didn’t like about school.
I like the idea of starting fresh and having the “tabula rasa” of another year of learning before me. So far, every class is a potential “A.”
I also like blank sheets of paper, new pens and pencils, and clean crisp books that have yet to be opened. Secret knowledge is tucked away in those books.
I like meeting the teachers. Over the years, they’ve gotten younger and younger. I have to fight the urge to think that they can’t possibly know what they are talking about because they are so young.
When I was in high school a million years ago, my teachers seemed ancient. My son’s teachers are young and with it.
I see an advantage to that. Being young, they are still excited and energized about teaching. I like seeing the English teacher get all revved up about teaching “Romeo and Juliet” again.
Back in the day, my teachers seemed tired and disinterested. They’d done it a million times and it was rote by now.
So that’s a good change.
Of course, meeting the teacher also meant getting a copy of the course syllabus. It described the work to be done and how that work would be evaluated.
At first, it all looked great. But then I go to the second class, and the third class and fourth class and the syllabuses started piling up. One teacher talked about what her students needed to be successful, including 10 or so hours of sleep each night.
I started doing the calculations. We wake up the boy at 6:30 a.m. That means he has to get to bed by … what … 8:30 p.m.? He gets home at 3:30 p.m. What about all the homework and downtime and eating and washing dishes? Well, that’s not going to work.
You know that dream ...
So then I start thinking of that recurring nightmare. You know what I’m talking about.
My two nightmare scenarios involved me having a great year all the way to the end of the semester. And then a week before the end of school, I realize there is one class I forgot about all year. Either I didn’t go to any classes or I forgot to do the assignments.
Then the bell rang, and I saw some of my adult friends passing in the hallway. Perhaps I can get whatever notes I missed from them?~.