Today I had my thirty-ninth first day of school. I think--math is not my thing.
Thirty-nine years ago, I went to Kindergarten in Mrs. Sturm's class, and today, I welcomed the beautiful baby faces of the class of 2020. (PS--The class of 2020 is in seventh grade this year.)
The first day of school is so full of promise and hope. Lovely faces in new clothes and shoes carry new supplies into a classroom. They have visions of being a straight A kid. They all have visions of growing up and being whatever they want to be. They also have dreams of making such a difference in the world that one day their life story will become a block-buster movie. And on this day--the first day of school--I share that vision with them.
I know, realistically, that not every kid will have a block-buster life for any number of heart-breaking reasons. I know, realistically, that there will come a day--some sooner, some later--that we will no longer share a vision with each other. I'll want them to work, and they'll just want the attention of the cute co-ed sitting at the next table. They are seventh graders, of course, even the best of teachers just can't compete with hormones on those cold winter days between New Year's and Spring Break.
But, the beauty of the first day of school is that you get one every year. And that's a wonderfully hopeful thing. It's also the reason I have had thirty-nine first days of school to call my very own.
And now for the obligatory first day of school picture. The Daughters are in transitional years. Daughter 1 is in the eighth grade--the last year of middle school. Next year, she'll be in high school. HOLY COW! Daughter 2 is in the fifth grade--the last year of elementary. Next year, she'll be in middle school. God save the queen. With me being the queen, of course.
Aren't they the smartest, most beautiful creatures?