Twas the Night Before School

Posted on Sep 18 2009 at 9:19 AM

By Mollie Dickson

8:45PM: an optimistic bedtime for a first-year teacher the night before school. But having been in summer mode for the past two months, the thought of a 5:15AM alarm was, well, alarming. So I snuggled underneath my comforter, ignoring the light still seeping through my closed curtains, and hoped that the read-a-boring-book-before-bed trick would put me to sleep. No such luck. Forty-five pages later, I realized that sleeping was going to be my first challenge as a new teacher. So I tossed and turned. I pictured myself standing at the open door to my classroom, students streaming in; I played over in my mind all the details—how I would take attendance, the pros and cons of a first-day seating chart, if I’d have time to swing through Sharkie’s for a large coffee, and whether my black flats or heels better completed the outfit—by 11:00 I was certain there could not possibly be a moment in my day tomorrow that I had not already thought through. I was ready to go. No feelings of being unprepared. No nervous butterflies. No last minute panicking. So why was I still staring at those neon-green dashes that glared 1:04? The same reason I can never sleep on Christmas Eve. Sheer excitement.

* * *

6:40AM: lunch packed, bags in hand, hair up, heels on, and the finishing touch… a pair of pearls. I head for the door, beaming, and yet something feels off. Something’s missing. And suddenly, I can hear my mother’s voice in the back my head, “Ah ah ah. You hold it right there, little missy; no leaving this house just yet. Let me get my camera.” I pause, realizing this is my first first-day-of-school without the uncomfortable, whiney, standing by the door photo-shoot. And now, well, now I’m wishing she were here. To capture this moment. I smile, knowing I must figure out a way to take this awkward photo. It’s a first-day-of-school must. I pull out my Mac laptop, click Photo Booth, adjust the angle, press the button, and with three seconds, I run into place with my hand on the doorknob. Snap. Captured. Now it is the first-day-of-school.

* * *

2:50PM: I watch the last student fly out the door, and for the first time all day, I take a deep breath in and a long exhale. It is done. The first day—the day I’ve been anticipating, imagining, planning for, stressing over—has come and gone. I can’t recount the details, the names, the stories… it was a rush, a blur. But I can tell you this: my heart is happy. It wasn’t flawless; it wasn’t disastrous; it wasn’t monumental. But it was perfect. A perfect first-day-of-school. And now, I’m off to plan day two.

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